Milky

By Surtea.     2009.     surtea@live.co.uk

Acknowledgement: I liked Rachael Ross’ 2003 story ‘Turning Japanese’.  My starts in the same place but after a while the story heads off in a somewhat different direction.

Story codes: M/F, M+/F, F/F, humil, blckml

Summary: A pretty American woman gets transferred to the Tokyo office. There she finds some of the customs very different.

Chapter 1 - Graduate

As I had majored in Japanese at college it made perfect sense that when I got my MBA I would join a Japanese firm here in New York.  They wanted my skills and I would get to improve my Japanese.  The pay was good too for a freshly minted Business School graduate.

Several friends told me that I was crazy to join a Japanese firm; that they were misogynistic and that only Japanese men got anywhere. I said that we were in New York, that US law applied and that only half the staff in their US office were Japanese. If there turned out to be a problem I could just quit.

And there was no problem.  It was the trading and brokerage arm of a major Japanese conglomerate.  I ended up working for the commodities trading group, which was perfect for me.  I didn’t do trading, that really wouldn’t suit me: I am not the loud, brash type that succeeds on the floor.  I specialized in the analysis of the trades the team was doing and analyzing how the team did compared to the market.  I looked for trends in the market we could exploit and anomalies that the traders could make money from.  My analysis was prompt and insightful and I quickly settled into the group.  My Japanese boss was pleased and complimentary.

The group was 90% male and of these two-thirds were Japanese, but there were Americans there and some women and they did just as well as their Asian counterparts.  There weren’t any Japanese women working there, even the Head of Trading’s secretary was an American. While we all socialized together it was clear that at times the Japanese guys would all go off and do stuff together: drinking, karaoke and the like.  My Japanese improved to almost complete fluency and I felt like a valued member of the team.

One or two of the women would complain that sometimes the Japanese men would hit on them, especially after a few drinks but I never had any bad experiences.  I wondered why; I am pretty enough, brunette, good figure, not so tall that I would tower over shorter Japanese men.  I assumed that I was left alone because I spoke excellent Japanese and that made me more accepted and less of an easy target for a pass.

Then at the appraisal marking the end of my first year a bombshell dropped: the company wanted me to transfer to Tokyo.  It seemed my analysis had been used on the much bigger trading floor in the head office and had been commented on favorably.  They offered me more money, help finding somewhere to live and even a little office of my own (I was then sharing with the man in charge of settlements).  It was all really tempting and definitely a step up the ladder.  I may not be loud but I am ambitious. So after a weekend’s thought I said yes to leaving in two weeks time.  I was single and although I’d had a boyfriend at Business School it hadn’t lasted and in the last year I had been focused on work, not play.  At 25, I had lots of time to worry about that later.  So I had no real commitments and I felt the chance might never come again.

Chapter 2 - Tokyo

I landed at Narita on a Sunday morning and was met by my flat mate. Head office had arranged for me to share an apartment with another woman my age as it would make settling in easier and I was grateful for the support and the company.  I was nervous though as to how we would get along.

“Su-sa-na Ta-lo?” She said as I came through, looking somewhat lost.

“Yes, I’m Suzanne Tailor.”  I had got used to Japanese people with less good English mangling my name and had got used to shortening it.  “Call me Suzi, it’s easier.”

“Thank you, I am Reika Kato.  I am so pleased to meet you Suzi.”

Reika was a typically (to me) beautiful Japanese girl.  I say girl because she looked so young though in fact she was a year older than me. She wore her hair in a lovely bob and every bit of her was perfectly in place: hair, make-up and clothes.  I felt like a slob in my comfortable flying outfit.  It turned out she was the PA for the Head of Commodities Trading: my new boss.  Perfect: she could tell me how to get along in the department.

The apartment was small even by New York standards but not too bad for Tokyo apparently.  With all the commuting and the long hours Japanese don’t spend that much time at home apparently.

Reika helped me get ready on Monday.  I wore my smartest outfit and did my hair and make-up perfectly. Reika told me that in a Japanese office women are always expected to dress smartly and men always wear suits.

The subway was a shock as it was crowded even by New York standards. And somewhere between the second and third stop I felt someone’s hand rubbing over my ass.  In shock I whispered to Reika.  To my surprise she whispered to me to ignore it and not to make a fuss.  Making a scene would mean that I lost face and Reika too by association.  So I let the anonymous hand fondle my rear.  I felt disgusted and I could not even tell which of the men packed in around me was doing it. Encountering no resistance the wandering hand even moved to my front and massaged my pussy through my skirt. I felt myself blushing crimson and felt hot tears of humiliation in my eyes.  Fortunately the journey ended soon after.

“Does that happen often?” I was in shock and still crying a little.

“Sometimes,” said Reika with a little shrug, “maybe it will happen more for you than me as you are a foreigner. Do nothing. If you say something you will look stupid. Not that many men do it.”

At the office I went through all the formalities before joining my team.  Here the commodities trading group occupied an entire floor of the tall building that was the corporate head office. My little office was on one side with a view of the main road, but at least it was mine.  There must have been nearly 50 men on the floor alone: all male and all Japanese.  The noise of the trading was different too: not so loud but very firm and if anything even more arrogant than in New York. Around the outside were the offices of the dozen managers, most of whom had a PA outside.  All the PAs were women and all were immaculately dressed. While the men were all ages, the women were between 20 and 40, though it was difficult to estimate as Japanese all looked young to me.

I was introduced to everyone but remembered only a few of the names. Soon I had settled down to work, which besides being in Japanese was not that different from back in NYC.  In what seemed like a short while Reika came and took me home.

During the rest of the week I was groped twice more on the subway. The first time I just managed to hold back the tears.  The second time I wasn’t even shocked. And when the man pushed my legs slightly apart I just complied.  With the skirt I was wearing it couldn’t be very much.  I even got a little thrill as his hand squeezed by behind and reached round to rub my mound. I talked it over with Reika, she had only had one little squeeze all week.  It must have been because I was non-Japanese.

The following Monday I guessed that there was just the one man and that he was probably waiting at my stop for me to get on so that he could push in next to me. The groping began almost as soon as the train moved off. Soon he was pushing my thighs apart. I let him, by now I was complicit in this silly game and even found it a little exciting.  After all it couldn’t go any further.  Till it did… I felt him undoing the waist band of my skirt and sliding down the zipper.  In panic I looked at Reika, but she only stared back quizzically; she knew I’d been enjoying it a minute earlier.

I felt the questing fingers slipping into my skirt and pantyhose and down into my panties. Soon he had pushed through my curls and was fondling my labia.  To my shame I was a little wet which only made his task easier. I couldn’t help give a little gasp as one of his fingers slipped inside me. Reika giggled and held a finger to her lips to shush me. All the way to our stop I was fingerfucked.  I could not help or resist and I very nearly came; it had been a long time since a man touched me there.  Gripping my clothes I stumbled from the train at our stop.

“You liked it,” Reika was laughing, “and last week you were complaining!”

“I couldn’t help it,” I mumbled, “I didn’t mean to…”

My feeling of being stalked only intensified the next day as my anonymous admirer was back.  I tried to stay as close as possible to Reika, hoping that her presence would deter him, but that only made things worse as she was now pressed up against me and able to see the reactions on my face in every detail.  The fingers undid my skirt and pushed my thighs apart. The fingers searched through the folds of my pussy finding my dampness immediately.  I actually slumped forward against Reika as I felt his two middle fingers slide into my pussy.  I realized I actually wanted to come, but not there in public. Once again Reika giggled as she saw me panic.  She did not know why: my tormentors other hand had slipped round the back and I suddenly felt those fingers sliding down the crack in my ass as the finger fucking in front continued.  By the time we got to our stop I had two fingers sunk to the knuckles in my vagina while the tip of another had wormed its way into my anus.  I staggered from the train blindly, trying to keep my clothes in place. 

Reika just giggled and even said ‘dirty girl’ when I told her what had happened.  The next day I insisted on taking a different route and Reika reluctantly agreed though it would take longer. “But on Mondays we will take this route,” she insisted.  I submitted thinking that once a week I could probably cope with.

That Monday turned out to be even worse.  It was as if the man was making up for lost time. He completely undid my skirt at the side so that I had to hold it up with one hand. Not only did his fingers seek out my pussy as before, he grabbed my free hand and stuffed it into the pocket of his overcoat. I was in for another shock: the pocket had been completely cut away and his hand led mine till I felt his erect penis sticking out of his trousers. I tried to pull away but he just held it there while fingerfucking me. I gave in and began to rub his cock at which point his hand left me and hunted out my pussy were it found my juices and, having lubricated itself went round to my ass.  With this lubrication he managed to get the digit entirely into my behind. Wide-eyed I slumped against Reika in the train and just before our stop I felt my tormentor come.  His climax triggered mine and I whimpered as I tried to hide my own orgasm. I dragged myself from the train with his sperm on the fingers of one hand while the other did up my clothes.

Reika saw the white sticky mess on my fingers. “You are a dirty girl, very dirty.”  She was laughing.

“I’m not. You were the one that told me not to make a fuss.”

“Yes, but I did not say to let the man do that to you.  You did that by yourself.”

Chapter 3 - Lunch

That week some of the men started asking me to go with them at lunchtime.  From the way they asked it I realized that they did not mean to eat but to have sex at a nearby hotel which existed for just that purpose.  I refused out of hand; I had a rule about not getting my personal and work lives confused.  It also dawned on me that I had seen most of the PAs going off at lunchtimes occasionally.

“But some of them are married,” I said to Reika, “why to they go?”

“It is good for the team,” she replied, “and the men give you money.”

“They do?  That’s prostitution.” I was shocked. “How much do they pay? Do you do it?”

“About 15,000 Yen.  And sometimes I go, maybe once every two weeks, it is good for morale and then I can but a nice scarf or a pair of designer shoes.”

“Well, I won’t!” It did explain how a PA like Reika had designer bags and the like.

“They are betting as to who you will go with first!” Reika was giggling again.

I went and complained to my boss, but he just shrugged it off. Mr. Takashita was an older man, very patrician and had always been scrupulously polite to me. I was sure he would take my side and tell them to stop pestering me. He just calmly explained to me that I should not say no to my colleagues as it was bad for team spirit and company morale.  Part of my job was to deliver superior analysis and part was to help keep up the morale by being part of the team in his department.  I was horrified: he was asking me to prostitute myself, for the good of the trading team.

“And Miss Sato tells me you like Japanese men,” he continued, “so I do not see a problem.  I do not want to discuss this again. That is all.”

It was ludicrous.  I went back to my office in tears.  Reika had told him something. For the rest of the day everyone left me alone, I was so ashamed. How could they humiliate me like this?

I was furious with Reika on the way home. “What did you say to Mr. Takashita? He thinks I would to this kind of thing.” I started crying again.

“Suzi, I just told him that I did not think you had anything against Japanese men.  You clearly don’t.” Reika put her hand round me to comfort me. Despite my anger I was grateful for a human touch.

“You must not fight it,” she continued, “you cannot win. You will be shut out from the team and will receive bad appraisals. It will not be good.”

Bad appraisals? I was being blackmailed: prostitute yourself or watch your career disappear. I realized I did not understand the Japanese at all.  Even though I was now near fluent in the language I was nowhere in understanding the culture. I wanted to run away but there was no place to hide.

For three more days I held out. I concentrated on my work and ignored the men asking me to go with them. I looked in vain for any kind of sexual harassment policy: the company did not even acknowledge the concept. But my three month appraisal was due in four week’s time and I was still ambitious enough to want a good one.  Perhaps if I could finish the year and transfer home with good reports then I could get a job at another firm: a non-Japanese one.  Maybe an American company with dealings in Japan so that my language skills, developed at such personal cost, could still be useful.

I finally accepted an offer from a trader about my own age.  He was good-looking in a Japanese way and had always spoken to me in a reasonably polite way. So many of them just spoke to you as if being a woman and a foreigner made you beneath contempt. We went to the nearby establishment which had the mawkish name of Peach Blossom Hotel. The room was bare and functional with a wash area and a futon style bed and a couple of chairs near a tiny table.

We each folded our clothes on a chair.  I was hideously embarrassed as I took off my pantyhose, bra and panties. When I turned to face him my hands were over my bush and my breasts. He was already erect. His penis was not particularly small either: as big or bigger than most of the guys I’ve known. I turns out that the myth of Japanese men having smaller cocks is not entirely true.  It is more the case that there are fewer really long ones, but there are a considerable number of really thick ones.

The sex was rough and functional.  I had never been with a man who was less than gentle. He grabbed for my breast and really mauled them. While my boobs are not particularly big they are quite a lot larger than those of most Japanese women; that stereotype does seem to hold.  He even pinched my nipples till I squealed out loud.

He pushed me to my knees and shoved his prick in my face. I began to kiss it, trying to be cooperative so that he would be less forceful.  Soon though he pushed it into my open mouth and holding my head started to facefuck me till the head of his cock banged into my throat and I began to gag.  This didn’t stop him though he just kept slamming it into my poor mouth; my jaw ached in no time.  I was crying and my make-up was running down my face.  I wanted to die.  He kept calling me a ‘whore’ (Saseko!) in Japanese, over and over.

Soon he had me on my back on the futon and was fucking me while gripping my already aching breasts painfully hard. I had no lubrication and my pussy was soon very sore.  I made to mental notes: 1) I hoped his dick was sore too and 2) next time bring lubrication.  At no time was contraception even discussed, he just assumed I was safe to fuck.  Fortunately I was still on the pill, having been too indecisive to stop taking it when I left college. Thank God he came pretty fast.  He rolled off me and stood up staring down at where I was lying, now curled up on the bed, and sobbing quietly.

“Next time I will want more,” he said brusquely, taking cash from his jacket pocket and tossing it on the bed.  I went to the wash area and while I washed myself he dressed and left without another word.  I sobbed as I held myself open and tried to sponge his sperm out of my bruised vagina. I dressed and picked up the money from the soiled bed, feeling more humiliated and debased than I had thought humanly possible.

When I got back to the trading floor there were several traders gathered round the young man who was clearly bragging.  Everyone seemed to stare at me as I made my way to my little office.  Reika came in with a cup of hot green tea. I was pathetically grateful. At least someone was on my side.

“Are you OK?” she asked solicitously.

“Not really,” I replied and weeping recounted a brief summary of the encounter.  “At least he had to give me 15,000 yen,” I finished with.

“I don’t think he cares,” Reika responded, “he just got 300,000 yen.”

“Three hundred thousand?” I did not understand.

“That is what the pool stood at for who would get you first: five thousand yen each from every man in the trading group.” Reika seemed genuinely sorry for me.

“Everyone?” I was shocked. “Even Mr. Takashita?”

“Every single one,” my friend replied, “Japanese do everything as a group.”

I spent the rest of the day in a state, unable to come to terms with being the subject of an obscene office pool bet.  At least that was over for a fortnight, or so I thought.

When the next day I was propositioned by another man I batted it away with as much grace as I could muster: him and the next three guys. Reika had said once every two weeks and that was enough for her.  Fortunately the weekend followed and Reika and I went off and spent my illicit earnings (and some more besides).

On the Monday more guys hit on me and I declined less politely.  I’d already been groped by my subway admirer and did not need to get any closer to Japanese men, thank you very much.  Even the Monday morning manager’s meeting had been an ordeal.  Although I could see no sign of my colleagues treating me differently, though I was sure they all knew.

A little later Reika appeared in my office. “You must accept: they expect it.”

“But you said every two weeks…” I did not understand.

“I do it every two weeks or even less because I am Mr. Takashita’s PA. I am protected by him.  The other women are expected to do it when they are asked, unless their boss specifies otherwise.  When a new woman comes she is always more popular.  It stops after a while; even traders cannot spend 15,000 yen every day. You must accept, it is good for the team.”

“But I can’t. No. So many have asked. It isn’t right.” I was babbling.

“You do not have to do more than one per lunchtime,” Reika said as if it would reassure me, “unless you want to.” I stared at her as if she were insane.

Still stunned, I accepted the next man through the office door: Mr. Minamoro.  Thankfully he was Mr. Takashita’s deputy and so older.  He was gentle with me and spent a long time exploring every inch of my body. I think I was the first Western woman he had been with. He was fascinated with my heavier breasts and my very curly pubes: apparently Japanese women mainly have straighter hair down there. When we lay on the futon he went down on me and licked my still slightly sore vagina.  I had never been sucked by a man so skillfully and soon was overcome by an unexpected and intense orgasm, much to my embarrassment and his amusement. Mr. Minamoro just continued sucking, licking and fingering until I had a second climax.  I had a third while I was fucking him, which he wanted with me riding on top of him, upright and facing him. He was staring fixedly at my bouncing breasts.

Afterwards I was not sure which had been more humiliating: being raped by the first man or being putty in the hands of a fellow, if more senior, manager.  Either way, I bought a whole box of condoms and a big tube of lubricant on the way home. The chemist smiled knowingly; I suppose to him all Western women are sluts.

The next morning as I was dressing, Reika stood in the doorway to my room. “Don’t wear the pantyhose, wear stockings instead.”

“But I am already wearing them,” I said stupidly.  “Stockings are more work.”

“But they will look better on you,” Reika persisted, “and you should wear thong panties too, not those big things.”

Suddenly it dawned on me: Reika was not there just to be a flat mate, she was there to represent the company, to encourage me to behave.

“Reika,” I said slowly still holding my nearly-on pantyhose, “who lived here with you before I came?”

“Why no one,” she replied as if it meant nothing, “Mr. Takashita arranged the apartment.  The company owns the lease and I pay rent to the company. Your rent is part of your overseas allowance I believe.  I used to live with my parents.”

“Oh, I understand now.”

“Understand what?  And hurry up and change or we’ll be late for work.”

Obediently I put on a garter belt and stockings and slipped on one of my two thongs. It wasn’t worth fighting. Thank goodness it was a Tuesday; I’d hate to think what the subway groper would have made of this underwear.

By Friday I had been to the Peach Blossom with five different men and had earned 75,000yen, which was more than $800; and it was all tax-free. But I really had earned it. The manager from Monday was an exception: most of the men liked to be forceful and some were just plain rough.

Tuesday’s trader wanted to fuck me in every position he could think of: missionary, doggy, me on top, spoons; you name it or imagine it and he wanted it. I got tired just from all the permutations.

Wednesday’s wanted to fuck my ass.  The Japanese seem to have an obsession with bodily functions and anal sex is just something they almost all want. Later I realized what a miracle it had been that none of my first three guys had wanted me that way. I don’t think I ever had three guys again in a row who didn’t demand it at least once. Fortunately I had tried it a couple of times back in college and I did have my lubrication.  Even so it was agonizingly painful as my partner was not at all gentle. By the time he had finished I felt as if I were torn back there. I walked slowly and gingerly back to the office.

Thursday and the trader wanted me to deepthroat him. I had never managed this and did not really want to try but my partner was determined and kept facefucking me and banging his quite long 7” cock into the back of my mouth. I kept gagging. I think I would’ve thrown up except that I have never found that easy, even when I am quite unwell. Then suddenly, as I swallowed to keep the contents of my stomach down, his cock hit the back of my mouth and suddenly it was in my throat. I’d swallowed him. Perversely I felt a twinge of pride as I realized I’d achieved it. Having managed it once I realized how it worked and managed it again and again. But it made me really sore: my throat was raw, my jaws ached, my lips were puffy and my face felt bruised from where he kept slamming into me. He came twice in my mouth before he was satisfied both times watching to see that I swallowed his goo. I had only swallowed the stuff once before in my life when a boy in college came in my mouth in like three seconds flat. I can’t say I liked the taste much and the texture is pretty gross. By the time I got to the office he must have told quite a few as they were staring at me to see if I looked different. Apart from the puffy lips I thought I had repaired the damage pretty well. That evening I was so hoarse I could barely speak. Reika bought me ice-cream and I swallowed it painfully but thankfully.

Friday’s guy wanted deepthroat followed by anal. Despite the fact that both these poor orifices were still sore from the previous days I managed. I even felt proud I could keep it up even though I was humiliated and constantly on the verge of tears. At last it was the weekend.

Reika and I went out and blew all my earnings. I bought us both a pair of designer shoes. I realized I really wanted her to be my friend: to be on my side and not the company’s. The rest, at Reika’s suggestion, went on high-end underwear: garter belts, stockings, bras, thongs and even a couple of g-strings.  I did not resist: I needed her approval; and besides I could not go on with just two thongs.

I knew what was happening to me was wrong.  But it seemed normal to everyone I knew in Tokyo. And I could see no way to escape without losing my career. I could only endure it.

Chapter 4 - After Work

The next week began as I expected. My subway groper must have thought it was bonus day at work: my new underwear and lack of pantyhose made it so much easier to finger me. As before, I jerked him off inside his coat. I had the sudden irrational thought that I had got better at this having touched five different penises since we last met. Not that we had ever met as such, I still did not really know what he looked like as he was always behind and a little to one side of me. Despite his easier access to me I resisted coming: my self-control was stronger too. I left the train feeling like I was more on top of things: humiliated, yes, but also less vulnerable.

Work was a bit better too. I was trying to teach myself to compartmentalize.  Maybe this was the Japanese way: work is work, sex is just sex.  If I could just not take things personally it would all be OK. But it is hard to keep telling yourself this when you know five different men from your department are going to pay money to have sex with you in the coming week. Still I focused on my analytical reports with a will: these were still getting lots of good feedback and my appraisal was in just two more weeks.  Our department was certainly getting superior results.

But there was no way of rationalizing the lunchtimes when they were happening: hard sex on my partners’ terms. Although each time I got better at deepthroating or anal or just regular fucking it did not disguise the fact that it was often uncomfortable and always heavy exercise. I most certainly did not need to join a gym! And I would never get over the way the traders would gather in huddles with whoever I had just been with to discuss what they had made me do.

Then on Thursday morning Reika said that I was invited to go out in the evening to a club. Apparently Mr. Takashita and five other managers were taking their PAs out for a private party. I was included even though as a junior manager I did not have a PA. I quizzed my friend as to what would be happening, worried that I would once again be humiliated.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured me, “I will be there. Just do what you are asked and enjoy it.  The food will be very good.”

That evening we all went out as a big, cheerful group.  I was walking a trifle uncomfortably: my lunchtime partner had wanted anal sex and he had a short but very thick cock; I was still feeling somewhat stretched back there.

The private club was very nice: elegant, beautifully furnished with discreet dining rooms in traditional Japanese style. Pretty girls in expensive cocktail dresses flitted everywhere: taking coats, bringing drinks and food, fawning on and flirting with the men. We had a dining room to ourselves with a plate glass window covering one whole side of the room and looking out over downtown Tokyo. Each PA sat close to her boss and paid him serious attention. I felt a little left out but nonetheless they made sure I was included in all the conversations.

The meal really was excellent: the very best of Japanese cuisine, though I noticed that we women were expected only to eat very small quantities and only when invited to by the men. The men drank beer and sake. I tried a little of the latter and found it was by far the smoothest I had ever had, it must have been extremely expensive. I was careful not to get drunk though, I did not want to make a fool of myself.

After the meal ended the chatting continued and more drinks were served. Then, at a signal from Mr. Takashita, each of the PAs slid to her knees before her boss. Trousers were unzipped and each of the women fished out a cock and proceeded to begin to fellate it.  I just stared, not knowing what to do.

To my left, my friend Reika was sucking on Mr. Takashita’s surprisingly large prick.  She looked like a teenager and our boss was clearly old enough to be either of our fathers. In fact I knew that he had a daughter less than a year younger than his PA. I noticed that Reika’s technique was not at all aggressive; she certainly wasn’t trying to get him to climax fast.

Across from me I could see the oldest of the PAs, Natsuki, performing the same service on her boss. This calm, elegant woman was 38 years old and had two young teenage children. Her boss, in whose lap her head was buried, was only 36. I’d asked why the manager had not taken a younger PA and Reika had giggled and informed me that this was the boss’ choice. He liked having the older woman at his beck and call and treated her almost as a slave. She’d actually asked to be transferred to another department but he had insisted she stayed in Commodities Trading as his PA. It turned out he liked showing his dominance over an older, married woman.  He always had her dress as if she were much younger than she really was.

After a little while the secretary to my right picked up an empty beer glass and brought Mr. Minamoro to a climax, removing his cock from her mouth at the last moment and holding the glass so that he shot off into it. Then she passed the glass to the woman next to her and then proceeded to dry her boss’ prick before zipping it away. One by one the women coaxed their bosses to shoot into the glass, finishing with Reika. I stared while she held Mr. Takashita’s large organ as it came into the glass, which then contained the sperm of six men. To my surprise Reika passed me the glass. I had no idea what to do with it; I had no man to fellate. Everyone was watching me.

“Drink it, Suzichan,” said Mr. Takashita. “Drink it all.”

I was horrified.  First by the name: he had always called me Miss Tailor (though he pronounced it Tay-low). You don’t use the ‘–chan’ diminutive unless you are speaking to a child, or at least someone you have known since they were a toddler. From a man this was appropriate only for a little girl under ten years old or a lover. Secondly he wanted me to drink the contents. I looked in the glass; there was the comingled sperm of six men: my senior managers. I could make out the different colors ranging from whitish to semi-clear to creamy yellow and I could feel the residual body warmth through the glass. It was impossible, truly revolting.

“Drink it, Suzichan,” he repeated. “Now!”

I looked up to see all twelve people watching me. What choice did I have? I felt under a sea of pressure. I slowly raised the glass to my lips and began to take a sip. It smelt so strong.  I was sure I would vomit there and then. But somehow I didn’t; as I said, my gag reflex isn’t that strong. It took ten little mouthfuls till the glass was empty. As I finished there was polite applause from my audience, which I suddenly realized included the two girls who had been serving us and were standing behind me. My humiliation reached new depths, even the waitresses had watched me swallow the sperm.

“You see, Miss Kato, Suzichan is a milky girl,” said my smiling boss, “I thought she would be. Excellent gokkun, Suzichan.”

Reika just nodded and smiled at him, while her eyes teased me.

After that more drinks were had and the conversation veered from discussing what I had just done to gossip about the office. I was expected to sit there as if nothing had happened. At least I managed to drink a big cup of sake which helped to wash some of the taste of sperm from my mouth and lit a fire in my stomach where I could imagine the men’s spunk floating about.

Reika and I went home in a taxi called by Mr. Takashita. I felt as if I could barely speak, I was in the depths of despair and quietly crying.

“What… what is a milky girl?” I finally choked out, whispering so the driver would not hear. “And what does ‘gokkun’ mean?” (I knew it meant ‘gulp’ in Japanese but that was clearly not what my boss had meant.)

Reika giggled in that little girl way she has. “A milky girl is a woman that likes sperm. And gokkun is when she drinks the sperm.”

“But I don’t like it!” I wailed.

“But you drank the glass,” Reika pointed out, “and it was not that hard for you.”

“It was horrible. I feel sick.” But I hadn’t been, my body had betrayed me.

*****

At work the next day it was as if nothing had happened.  No one said a word, nothing had changed. Sure I got fucked at lunchtime but that was now part of my routine, as was the shopping that Reika and I would do the next day with my extra cash. My boss called me Miss Tailor again, and the PAs showed no wish to discuss anything.  Truly these people could compartmentalize.

I wondered when the press of men asking for lunch-dates would slacken, but my rough calculations showed that even at best it would be at least three months. Three very long months. I just wanted a lunch time when I could go out with Reika for noodles rather than having some man’s cock in my mouth.

*****

The following week Reika informed me that from now on Thursday evenings were set aside for going out with the team. I shuddered; I really did not want to drink any more sperm. But, as a concession, I could decline all invitations to lunch on that day. (Yay – we could go for noodles).

It was the same group that went out that Thursday and to the same club. The food was different but good and as before we women got very little of it. We sat around decoratively and chatted to the men while they ate and drank their fill. Then it was time for Mr. Takashita’s signal.  I thought it would be the same as the last time and dreaded it.  But they had clearly agreed on a different variation and each PA slid onto the floor, unzipped their boss’ trousers and began to give him a slow handjob. I sat and stared and waited. Then, at a wave from my boss, one of the waitresses put a fresh glass in my hand. Suddenly I realized what they wanted me to do: I was to suck the managers’ cocks and fill the glass.

“Please, Takashita-sama,” I begged. “I do not want to. Please do not make me. Please?”

“Suzichan, you will,” he replied firmly but gently, “it will be good for you.”

Good for me? I had no idea whether he was referring to my appraisal, due on Monday, or something else. As far as I could see it would only be good for my cocksucking skills. I had no choice, further resistance would lead to loss of face for him and hence anger at me. I slid down in front of Mr. Minamoro and took his erect cock from the secretary’s hands. I sucked. Not wanting it to go on too long I did my best. To make it even more debasing I could here him telling the others what a good job I was doing. As I felt he was about to come I brought the glass up and aimed his prick into it while it shot jet after jet of fresh sperm. I proceeded to the next man, and the next, in each case taking the prick from his PA before fellating it. It was tiring and I just wanted it to end. The fourth man surprised me by coming almost the moment I put him into my mouth. I had no time to get him to the glass and ended up with a mouthful of cum. I was about to swallow it when I heard my boss.

“Spit it into the glass, Suzichan.”

There was something even more disgusting about them all watching me as I spat the mixture of sperm and saliva into the glass. Then it was on to the fifth and after him my boss. As I took his big cock in my hands from Reika’s more dainty ones he once more spoke to me.

“Ask my permission, Suzichan.”

I choked; he really wanted to humiliate me completely. “Please… please Takashita-sama, may I suck on your penis?”

“Yes Suzichan, you may, but do not spill a drop.”

His cock really was large, certainly the biggest I had ever had in my mouth, and thickish too. When he came it was powerfully, after all he had been holding it back for a good long time. His jets joined the five previous ones. I knelt before him holding the glass.

“Go sit in the middle and swallow your milk, Suzichan.  Show us a good gokkun,” he ordered.

I did as I was told and sat in the ring of them while they observed me. I wanted it over and decided it would be faster if I took it all in one big swallow.  That was a big mistake. I tipped the whole contents of the glass into my mouth. Suddenly it was completely full of six men’s slimy cum. It was so appallingly gross that I couldn’t swallow. I sat there with my mouth full, my cheeks bulging with spunk.  I did not know if I was allowed to spit it back into the glass. One of the PAs started giggling, I couldn’t tell who as my eyes were screwed tight shut. Eventually, after what seemed like forever, I controlled myself and managed to swallow. The huge, warm, greasy mass slid down my throat. Reflexively I swallowed over and over trying to rid myself of the taste. Then I burst into tears as they broke into applause. I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me. Reika brought me a cup of sake.

“Please ask Takashita-sama not to make me do this again,” I whispered to her humbly. I was desperate for release from my position.

*****

That Monday I received my three month appraisal from Mr. Takashita. It was excellent: my analysis was outstanding, leading to superior performance on the trading floor and I had shown myself to be an enthusiastic and willing team member. My score put me at the top of my level of manager and guaranteed promotion at the end of the year. This was what I had prostituted myself for, what I had let myself be blackmailed for. I somehow doubted it was worth it.

But in the evening I went out with all the women from the department to celebrate. We all got discreetly drunk and had girly fun. Natsuki, the older PA, seemed particularly pleased for me. Perhaps by giving up all pride and resistance I had become one of the team.  I wanted to ask the women what they thought of me but knew it would break the mood and also result in no answer I could understand.

In some subtle way I had lost by position in the apartment too. Reika now made all the decisions. She chose what we ate and where we went shopping. She laid out which clothes I was to wear; it was not that she would chose something very different, it was just that she made the choice, right down to my underwear. One new thing she had me get were self-supporting stockings which she now had me wear as a change from garter belts. I did not argue, I had lost the will to fight. My effort was going into keeping myself together: into surviving.

This Thursday we all went as before to the same place and club. After dinner I waited, submissively and with eyes downcast for Mr. Takashita’s instructions.

“Suzichan, please take off your clothes. You may leave on your shoes and the stockings Miss Kano tells me you are wearing.  Nothing else please.”

For a few seconds I could not move.  Surely not in front of all these people. Admittedly two of the managers had taken me over to the Cherry Blossom at lunch time, but then they had been naked too.  But now they wanted me to be naked in a room with a dozen clothed colleagues and with waitresses too. It was too much to ask.

Mr. Takashita signaled and the two waitresses came over and gently lifted me to my feet. They stripped me of my business suit and blouse, folding them neatly for later. My bra and the tiny G-string followed. I knew then why Reika had chosen that ridiculous item for me to wear today: it was a tiny triangle of cloth that did not even cover all my dark bush and the string kept slipping in between my labia.

“Suzichan, walk around the room and let us admire you.”

Helplessly I complied watching them as they stared at my displayed breasts, pussy and ass. I flushed as red as a woman could flush.

“You will begin sucking now, guujin.” A waitress was pressing a glass into my hands. “You will ask each of your fellow manager’s permission first and you will crawl, not walk.”

I burst out crying but on all fours made my way to the first. “Minamoro-sama, may I please suck your penis?”

Once again I went round the room sucking my colleagues and emptying their spunk into the glass. Once again I knelt in the centre of the room and swallowed it all in a series of little gulps. But this time I was required to remain naked afterwards as everyone chattered away, mainly discussing my body.  I was only allowed to dress at the end of the evening just before Reika took me home.

*****

On the Monday, Reika put out my clothes for work: blouse, skirt & jacket and hold-up stockings.

“Reika, what bra and panties do you want me to wear?” I called to her in the other room.

“Don’t worry about those,” she shouted back, “I’ll bring them in my handbag, and you can put them on when you get to work.”

“But… but why?” Though I already knew the answer to that question.

“So you can do more with your admirer.  It’ll be fun! And make sure you put some of that lubrication you carry around in your bottom.”

The journey was hellish.  Reika pressed up close to my front. I could feel her tight little breasts in their bra pushing into the undersides of my softer, braless ones. She kept giggling at my predicament and whispering ‘dirty girl’ in my ear. Meanwhile my molester pushed one, two and finally three fingers into my lubricated anus while I jerked him off. At least Reika kept her word and allowed me my underwear as soon as we got to the office. I don’t suppose that it would look right with a braless American manager bouncing around: not proper office etiquette.

*****

Chapter 5 - Slippery

The next evening out confirmed that Mr. Takashita definitely had some sort of evolving plan for my gradual degradation. Each week he had pushed me further down a slippery slope, but this week he must have sensed that I was unable to resist anymore: I was in a foreign country bereft of support and my only real friend was his personal secretary.  I was trying to survive by complying, unable to even search for a way out.  In this sense sharing with Reika was fatal, I liked her and she was my friend but it did mean I was never free from the company’s supervision. I never had the time to think for myself. And by giving me the route of working hard on my job they gave me something escapist to focus my mind on.  It was too late to run, maybe it always had been.

We were at a different club that week with a bigger room, brightly lit, finely furnished but not quite so up-market. This time all the eleven managers in Commodities Trading were there, the six I knew well by now and the five others on my grade who did not have PAs yet.  The six secretaries were of course there too together with a number of hostesses from the club, one for each male manager present without a pliant secretary. The format was as before, food & alcohol followed by the entertainment: me. I was between Mr. Takashita and Mr. Minamoro and expected to pay attention and compliments to both.

I was dreading the end of the meal and when the waitresses started clearing away I was already close to tears from the coming humiliation.  I didn’t know if I could suck off eleven men.

“Suzichan, undress and show everyone how different your American body is from Japanese women: long legs, wide hips, curly pubic hair and big breasts.  Walk around and give all your fellow managers a good look.”  Mr. Takashita sounded as if he were giving instructions in an office meeting.

In tears I stripped and went around displaying myself trying to keep the barest modicum of decency by at least keeping my legs close together.  Everywhere were the grins and leers of the men and the giggles of the women as they commented on my ass, my tits, my legs, my pussy, my mouth, etc and all in the crudest Japanese terms.  Humiliating and degrading as it was I did not want it to end but all too soon the glass was put in my hands.

“Gentlemen,” said my boss proudly, “for those of you who have not seen Suzichan in action before I present you: our Milky Girl!”  There was a round of applause from all the men.

“Suzichan, as last week.” Slowly I slid to my knees and crawled to Mr. Minamoro before asking his permission to suck him.  And so on from man to man. Somehow the new, younger managers were worse than the older ones, perhaps because they were on my grade or maybe because they kept commenting on the way my breasts swayed as I crawled or how good my throat felt as I swallowed their entire length.  One came in my mouth and I spat his goo into the growing mess in the glass. One tried to facefuck me until Mr.Takashita told him to relax and let me do the work.

Finally there were eleven doses of sperm in the glass and I crawled to the centre of the room and knelt on knees while I swallowed the whole load. I was managing bigger swallows and managed the sticky, slimy mess in just six mouthfuls.

“Sake for the milky girl!” Mr. Takashita was obviously delighted with my performance.  Even so I was required to remain naked till the evening ended.

*****

That weekend brought yet another shock. Reika and I’d spent a lovely Saturday: shopping, eating and a walk in a park.  It was so nice I did not mind that she had made all the decisions.  Sunday was to be our lazy day: sleeping in, a little housework and a DVD in the afternoon. Perfect for someone who did not want to think too much about the coming week.

We settled in to the sofa and Reika switched on the DVD player. I assumed it would be a chick-flick dubbed into Japanese. Suddenly on the screen were all of us from Thursday evening, eating and finishing our dinner.  I stared in horror as I heard Mr. Takashita order me to undress.

“No Reika, switch it off!”  She didn’t but she paused it, ironically at a frame that showed Mr. Takashita with Reika kneeling at his side looking at him admiringly. I realized that the evening had been filmed.  I had given the two small blank windows at either end of the room no mind at all.  Or rather I’d had more pressing things to worry about.  And it explained the brighter lighting. I was unable to speak for a minute. “Why?” I gasped.

“As a souvenir. All the managers got one yesterday and I was given one to watch and give to you.”

“It’s for blackmail, isn’t it?” I began crying again.

“No, don’t be silly.  Look you can see all our faces. It’s just for fun.  Let’s watch!” Reika appeared not to realize how upsetting I found this.

“I don’t want to, Reika.  Please?” I was trying not to completely break down.

“I think we should watch it.  Mr. Takashita gave it to us,” my friend said quietly, trying to comfort me, “he will be expecting me to have shown it to you.”

And so we sat there on the sofa together and watched it. It turned out there was a third camera in the ceiling too, which they used when I was crawling from cock to cock or to show my face buried in someone’s lap. I was pleasantly surprised how good my body looked as I stripped and paraded. But my face and make-up was a mess from all the weeping. And I looked like a complete slut moving from man to man on all fours. And wherever possible the camera would zoom in on my sucking and deepthroating.  No one watching this would think I was much better than a whore. And the last shot where the camera was glued to my face as I drank the nearly half-full glass of congealing spunk was awful. You could even see my throat working as each big mouthful slid down it.  It caught my woebegone look perfectly with screwed shut eyes still leaking tears down my face.  The whole disc lasted about 45 minutes. And, yes, all faces were recognizable: maybe it wasn’t intended as blackmail but if they wanted to it would serve that purpose: I never wanted anyone back home to see this home video.

As I sat stunned on our sofa, Reika popped the DVD out of the machine, put it in its box and placed it on the shelf next to the TV in our little collection of more regular films and a box set of ‘Friends’.

“May I see it?” I whispered to my friend.

Reika passed me the box and I burst into sobs. On the front was a close-up frame of me raising the glass to my lips for the first time a look of barely suppressed disgust on my clearly recognizable face. Above it was the title ‘Suzichan: Milky Girl 1’ and Thursday’s date. On the back were four more stills: me full-length parading naked, deepthroating a cock with my face in a man’s pubes, holding a prick as it shot into the glass and lastly taking the final mouthful from the now empty glass. I couldn’t believe how well done the production was.

“Who made it?” I choked between sobs.

A professional company that specializes in this sort of film.  They are very good and work for all the big companies when they need it.”

*****

This time when I got to work on Monday (having travelled knickerless on the subway again) I noticed a distinct change amongst the traders. They knew for sure. I could tell by the whispers and the stares. I tried to brazen it out as I went straight to my office and got to work. As soon as I went for a coffee an hour later three men asked to go with me at lunch: all traders.  I accepted one as quick as I could just to get it over with.

Sure enough, once we had got to the little room at the Cherry Blossom and stripped he wanted me to suck him, deepthroat him and finally just as he came he pulled from my mouth and shot off all over my face. This had never happened to me in my life; it was unspeakably disgusting. It was on my eyelids, my nose, my lips, my cheeks and even my eyebrows.

“Lick it off, milky girl!”

“What?”

Lick it off! And use your fingers to clean yourself.”

I knelt there, in tears, using my fingers to get the sperm off my face and then licking them clean, while the trader watched me intently.  If I missed a bit he pointed it out.  When I was sufficiently clean he paid me and left.  It had only taken ten minutes, a new record, and he could easily have asked for some other service. Still I spent the next half hour vigorously scrubbing my face with soap and reapplying my make-up. I was completely debased.

*****

That Thursday was really a straight repeat of the previous one with the whole management team present. The two differences were that the two cameramen did not bother to remain hidden behind their windows and that they put on a couple of Britney Spears’ songs for me to strip to.  Indeed the windows they had filmed through were now covered by pictures in the Japanese style.  Instead the cameramen moved freely around the room picking up the best possible angles and coming in for close-ups.  It was excruciating for me. Every time I looked up there was a camera catching me.  And everything was on film: stripping, sucking, deepthroating, milking into the glass and finally swallowing.  It even caught me sitting there afterwards naked with everyone else dressed and chatting about my performance.

Friday lunchtime Reika bounced into my office just after I came back from the Cherry Blossom (another facial cumshot, this time after some rough anal) and put a copy of the new DVD on the desk. There I was on the cover, under the title ‘Suzichan: Milky Girl 2’, close-up in a deepthroat with my lips around the very root of an anonymous penis; I couldn’t even tell whose.  A tear was rolling down my cheek; it was impossible to tell whether it was from the discomfort of the cock in my gullet or the humiliation of being forced to do perform this service. As I sat there staring at it I realized that my face, though distorted, was recognizable and that the bulging throat indicated where the tip of the prick had to be.  It was so utterly obscene as to take one’s breath away.

Watching it on Sunday was another horrible ordeal made all the worse by Reika’s off-the-cuff commentary. “You’re stripping needs some work!” as she watched me trying to keep time to Britney’s ‘Baby, One More Time’.  “Wow, that is so deep, where does it all go?” as I deepthroated Mr. Takashita’s prick. “I wonder how many calories that is?” as I swallowed mouthful after mouthful of jism.

The next couple of weeks were in much the same format except without new DVDs, for which I was grateful. The cameramen were still there but more in the background so I could easily pretend they were absent. I was however introduced to another Japanese fetish: dressing up.

The first week I was taken aside by Reika as we reached the club and led into a side room.  There she told me to strip so I could dress up.

“As what?” I asked, worried that it might be some sort of French maid costume.

“As Britney. From the video.” Reika giggled.  She was already helping me off with my suit. From a bag she took my new clothes: black sports bra, white blouse which she tied off beneath my breasts, grey cardigan, pleated navy sports skirt, white schoolgirl knickers, long socks that finished above the knee and navy school-type shoes. My hair was put into two pigtails finished with little pink ties.  When I looked in the mirror I saw a hot schoolgirl except that I am a chestnut brunette, not a blonde like Britney.

“Just finish it of with this,” said Reika, applying a little pink lipstick. I couldn’t recall that from the video but couldn’t argue as I was led by the hand into the room.  There were wolf whistles and compliments from all the men.  Later on I had to strip to the song which was strange 9but a little exciting).

The second week my outfit was that of Sailor Mercury from the Sailor Moon cartoon series. I wore a tight dress which consisted of a white bodice with a tiny blue skirt and a sailor type top. It had a huge bow in the small of my back and a merely large one over my breasts. To complete the outfit I had matching elbow length gloves, knee-high blue boots and a yellow V-shaped band on my forehead.  If you have never seen the outfit it is hard to describe.

One benefit of this outfit was that it was so formfitting that there was no easy way to strip out of it.  So I got to keep my clothes on (just as well as it was that time of the month).  I still had to perform as the milky girl but for the first time in a month I wasn’t stark naked in a room full of people as I was doing it.

*****

Chapter 6 – Birthday Party

The following week was my 26th birthday on the Wednesday.  Reika told me that there would be no Thursday session but that Mr. Takashita wanted to have a party for me on the day itself. And as it was my birthday I could skip the Cherry Blossom and head out to lunch with the girls.  I asked Reika what kind of party the evening would bring; would it be like the Thursdays?  I wasn’t sure I could cope with being humiliated on my birthday; that would be too horrible.  But Reika said that the evening would be ‘something quite different’ and I had to leave it at that.

They had a really big room booked at a local club.  The whole Commodities Trading department was invited and had turned up to a man.  The only women were me, the six PAs and the hostesses from the club: cute young girls serving drinks and light food. It turned out to be fun. The cameramen were there but I paid them no mind after the first few minutes. I particularly liked the karaoke and even allowed myself to be dragged up to sing “Hit me baby one more time”, hamming it up Britney-style for the cameras.  Irrationally I thought to myself that it would’ve worked better had I been wearing the outfit from two weeks back instead of my smart business suit. Mr. Minamoro followed me and belted out ‘My Way’ as only an intoxicated Japanese man who believes he is Sinatra can. We all loved it and cheered loudly. There was a cake with 26 candles and they all sang ‘Happy Birthday’. I was happy to be one of the team. I really did feel accepted despite the fact that I had by now been to the Cherry Blossom Hotel with maybe twenty of the sixty men present.

Then after about three hours of partying, Reika came and took my hand and let me to a little stage at one end of the hall with a thin floor to ceiling pole on it. In my slightly woozy state I thought there was going to be some kind of presentation. Gently she pressed my back against the pole and pulled off the silly birthday hat some one had put on my head earlier.  Then she caught my hands behind me and with two ‘clicks’ she’d fastened them together behind the pole using something like handcuffs.  Suddenly I was horribly apprehensive.

“Kneel,” she whispered gently in my ear.  Pushing down on my shoulders she got me into the position, not easy when your hands are out of action and you are wearing a business suit. Looking out at the room from my lowered viewpoint I saw dozens of trousers being unzipped. No, they couldn’t want me to suck that many dicks, it was impossible. Tears sprang to my eyes.

They didn’t. The plan was for them to masturbate on to me. All I had to do was kneel there and, as my hands were fixed behind the pole, I had no say in the matter. I lowered my eyes to my lap and kept still. In what seemed like seconds the first hot spurts of cum landed on my cheek: hot, greasy and degrading. The camera man knelt down so he could shoot up into my face catching the sperm running down my cheeks mixing with my tears. I didn’t have to wait long for the second trader, who came all over my forehead. I felt it running down my nose. I began sobbing but had to be careful not to open my mouth. I didn’t want them aiming in there.

Soon there were two or three men cumming on me at a time. One of the hostess girls had clearly been told to stand next to me and call out the total count, which made it unspeakably worse if that were possible. Every time another multiple of ten was reached there was a little cheer. I could feel it dripping from my face onto my expensive business suit.  It would be ruined, no way could I get it cleaned (actually Reika made me take it to the drycleaners that weekend – excruciating humiliation). I could feel the spunk running in my hair, how would I ever wash it out? Eyes tight shut, I tried to think of something else, anything else, but when you feel someone’s sperm hitting your eyelids it is hard not to know how degraded you really are.

On and on it went till there was not the tiniest patch of my face uncovered. It was like I was wearing a mask. Huge globs of congealing sperm dripped onto my clothes, I could feel it even inside my lace bra.

“Look up Suzichan” I tried to, but even though I opened my eyes a little I couldn’t really see anything through the sperm.  I blinked my eyes several times till I could just about see Mr. Takashita before me, his cock at my eye level and being enthusiastically manipulated by Reika. It went off all over me, the first shot hitting me right between the eyes. Moaning I lowered my head again. I felt lower than a worm.

“Seventy-two!” called out the hostess-girl as the last man released himself onto me.  Dully I realized that some of the men must have cum twice on me.  I had long since retreated into a shell, trying to pretend this wasn’t happening to me, even though it clearly was.

The whole department gathered round and sang ‘Happy Birthday’ once again, this time with a heavy layer of irony. Then I was released and one of the hostesses took me away to a washroom. She helped me strip wordlessly, I was still crying and got into a very hot shower. I shampooed my hair twice and would have stayed in much longer except she switched off the water and pulled me out. As I toweled myself dry I saw that my clothes were in a large transparent plastic bag. They looked awful. But Reika had brought the Sailor Moon outfit along and I was quickly dressed like the sexy cartoon character.

They applauded as I came back in and I spent another hour wandering around the party.  I would’ve stayed put but Reika came and taking my hand kept me moving. With the high-heeled boots I towered over most of them and my every inch of my legs was on display. Several of the traders openly ran their hands along my exposed thighs. Everyone called me ‘Suzichan’ or ‘Milky Girl’ as if I were some kind of walking sex-toy, which I supposed I was.

I cried on Reika’s shoulder all the way home and she ended up putting me to bed. I was exhausted: physically, mentally and emotionally. Some birthday party that was.

The next day at work was appalling. It would have been worse except that Mr. Takashita sent out a memo first thing reminding everyone of the need to be polite at all times.  I was not mentioned by name but he had made a point of greeting me as I came in as Miss Tailor and giving me the correct bow for a more junior manager. I returned the bow, holding it a little longer than necessary to show my appreciation, hands on thighs with fingers touching.  This way no one would dare be disrespectful to me. And the traders bowed correctly as if to show they’d understood the message.

After my lunchtime excursion (oral & straight sex, for a change) I worked till Reika came in with the new DVD.  I’d been dreading it and it did not disappoint. There on the front it said ‘Suzichan: Milky Girl 3’ above a picture of me slumped against the pole, dripping with cum. In the bottom left corner it said ‘Birthday Bukkake!’ and in the bottom right ‘72’. It took me a moment to realize that was the number of times I had been climaxed on. Bukkake, it turned out, is the Japanese sex game of lots of men dumping their sperm onto a woman.  It translates as ‘splash’ somewhat appropriately.

“Do… do they all have one?” I whispered as I felt tears start in my eyes.

“All the men who came,” Reika was grinning at my discomfort. And when I looked out the office door I could see the DVD cases being discreetly slid into jackets, desk drawers and briefcases.  No one would dare watch it while they were supposed to be working. But later they all would.

In fact as we were all heading home I heard one group of traders calling to another, “Hey, were all going to the club to watch a film, you coming?”

*****

I supposed that nothing could possibly be worse than my birthday, but over time I came to understand that there was always something more that could be done to you: some new kink or degradation.  I think over time they tried them all on me, usually more than once. But as the frog never jumps out of the steadily heating water so us humans will remain in ridiculous situations as long as they develop slowly enough for us to reason them away.

*****

The following week I was back in the group with just the Senior Managers. I wondered what was going to happen.  They hadn’t dressed me up but the presence of the cameramen in the background convinced me that something different would happen.  After my birthday I would never be fooled again: the presence of the cameras was always bad news.

When the meal finished Mr. Takashita as ever signaled the waitress forward and she began to help me to undress: no striptease this week. But when I glanced up I was surprised to see all the PAs were helping their bosses undress.  Surely not.

Soon I was naked in a group with the six men.  It was pretty clear what was going to happen now. I was going to be gangbanged. First they made me kneel in a circle of their pricks sucking each one in turn. By now cocksucking was second nature to me. Don’t let anyone tell you it doesn’t require real effort, but after several months I just happened to have learnt a lot of little tricks and techniques.  And I knew these six dicks intimately.

Soon I was on all fours with one man in my mouth and another fucking me: spit-roasting they called it, using the English word.  And I understood the analogy immediately: I was the pig being roasted on a spit formed of their two cocks. This was the first time I had ever been taken by two men at once. It isn’t easy unless they get the rhythm right. After a bit I learnt you either have to suck hard or just leave your mouth wide open while your partner fucks your face. If you try to do too much the thrusting from behind shoves your teeth into the other guy’s cock, which he tends not to like. They kept changing over every minute or two to prolong things. I slipped away into a dream-world where I ignored what was happening to me by focusing on the mechanics of fucking and sucking. Then suddenly I felt Mr. Takashita’s larger cock pushing into my pussy. He knew what he was doing and from behind he went so deep and filled me so much.  I could not help it: I came. There were cheers and applause; I had proved what a slut I was.

At one point I looked up and saw that Natsuki had been given the glass this week, I was clearly too busy. The older woman was hovering and judging by the contents a couple of the men had already climaxed. But as they were all still surrounding me the men were clearly going for seconds. I had learnt from Reika that the managers had tried to turn Natsuki into a milky girl ten years earlier but that she kept vomiting. I wondered how she felt kneeling there with the glass; she had a far away look in her eyes.

Some time later they had me sit on one man’s cock and lie forward with my breasts squashed against his chest while a second man mounted me from behind in my bottom.  I felt ludicrously stretched and the feeling of being so stuffed brought on a second climax, leaving me gasping on my lover’s chest.  This was so amusing they all wanted a turn and I kept having to sit myself down on one man after another. When Mr. Takashita took my ass it was way beyond pleasure and over into the pain zone. I was sure a penis that big was not designed to fit in my tight sphincter.  Except that by that stage it wasn’t so tight.  It really did hurt though.

As apparent recompense for my suffering my boss later put me in a ‘frog shape’ (as he called it) which involved me lying back with my legs folded right up so that my knees were near my armpits. In this way my swollen, sticky pussy gaped open and he proceeded to stuff me full, very full. His cock was banging on my most sensitive spot and suddenly I was out of control, having the biggest orgasm of the evening. I literally squealed with pleasure (didn’t find that out until watching the whole thing over on Sunday afternoon).

“Our milky girl is a size queen! Suzichan, you like big cocks,” he teased me.

‘Not in my ass,’ I thought, but he was right: being really full did turn me on. Pain and being gangbanged didn’t, but the intense stimulation did; it was like being caught between fire and ice.  When I got too close to the fire I got hot and came.

The evening ended with me sitting in a circle of naked men swallowing my glass of sperm. Judging by the volume of goo they mostly must have come twice, it was as if the other five managers had been there too. I felt exhausted after nearly two hours of non-stop sex, humiliated by having them watch me climax three times in a gangbang and a little sick from the pool of sperm in my stomach. I’m sure sex is not supposed to be like this, I told myself as I fell asleep on Reika’s shoulder in the cab.

Chapter 7 – Yasuko

For a month or more there was no real change to my routine, as I now thought of it: my hard work gathering praise and recognition, prostitution at lunchtimes, groping on Monday mornings and performing on Thursday evenings.  That is how I thought of those evenings: as a performance.  Sometimes it was a gangbang with the senior managers, other times it was stripping and sucking with all the managers and once it was being dressed as a policewoman and kneeling while the entire Commodities Trading team came all over me.  This last was horrendously humiliating but being dressed in uniform meant I could sort of pretend it was not happening to me.

But I was surviving and my half-year appraisal was less than a month away.  My work was better than ever and this outlet gave me the life-ring I could cling to so as to stop from drowning in my degradation. I gave it my all as intense mental exercise seemed to give me a kind of endorphin rush that blocked out what a nightmare the rest of my life had become.  Or not all: lunch with the other women was fun on Thursdays as were the weekends with Reika when she wasn’t in one of her dominant moods or making me watch my own sex videos.

Then one Thursday evening we went to another club and things felt quite different. The managers were all there as were maybe twenty of the traders as well as the cameramen. I knew immediately that I was in for some new ordeal and began trembling.  Nervously I looked to Reika, but she was hanging on Mr. Takashita’s arm and only briefly returned my questioning look with an ironic smile. My dependence on her had grown to be entirely unhealthy, but I seemed completely unable to break away.  She was my only friend in Tokyo and I needed her.

I was wearing what Reika had chosen for me to wear: the same office suit I had worn for my first bukkake.  I wondered if that was deliberate or not.  It was hard to tell, after the humiliation of making me take it down to the drycleaners that first time she had selected it often for me to wear to the office. The traders, to a man, would be able to recognize that they had climaxed over it and me.

There was food laid out in a buffet style and we all ate even the PAs and me.  Since there was a chance I would end up performing a gokkun at the end I was glad to get something in my stomach. I had a few of cups of sake as well which had they the effect of dulling my nerves a little, though I was still as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof.  I felt like I would start crying at any moment.

Eventually the room quieted as a young girl entered.  After a moment I realized that she probably wasn’t that young it was just that she was dressed as a sexy Japanese-style schoolgirl.  As she went to talk to Mr. Takashita I realized she was dressed as the character Gogo Yubari, the schoolgirl gang member and assassin from the ‘Kill Bill’ movie.  She had on white sneakers and knee-socks, a plaid skirt ending half way up her thighs, a school blazer with a white blouse and red tie on underneath.  She had her hair straight like a schoolgirl and because she was Japanese and not more than an inch over five foot she could easily have passed for a teenager. But there was a real confidence in the way she walked as Mr. Takashita brought her over to me. With Reika on his other side he looked every inch a powerful man.

“May I introduce Miss Yasuko?” I towered over the girl/woman. I was wearing heals and am five or six inches taller anyway. I bowed the correct bow for someone you don’t know.  Her bow in response was much curter, the bow to someone who is your subordinate.

“You will do whatever Miss Yasuko tells you to from now on,” I heard my boss saying. What did he mean? “As if it were myself giving you the order.”

“Yes, Takashita-sama,” I managed to choke out.  Mr. Takashita was withdrawing a little leaving me facing the newcomer. I realized that everyone in the room was watching me.

She put her head to one side coquettishly and looked up at me, for the entire world like a schoolgirl: a very sexy schoolgirl. “You will call me Miss Yasuko at all times. Do you understand?”

“Yes… yes Miss Yasuko.” I felt myself blushing.

“Good girl, Suzichan,” she continued in a sweet sing-song voice as if she were talking to a toddler. “Takashita-sama has kindly let me watch your films.  You have the potential to be a talented milky girl, with training. I will train you.  Is that clear?”

“Yerrsss… Yes Miss Yasuko.”  I was beginning to cry. She’d watched my DVDs: seen me gangbanged, covered in sperm and swallowing glasses of jism. And this schoolgirl was going to train me?

“Tonight we begin with a proper bukkake.  Come sit here.” She led me to a little plastic child’s chair in the centre of the room and had me sit on it.  It had the effect of bringing my knees up towards my breasts. I kept them firmly pressed together. What did she mean proper bukkake? I’d already been through two of them, I had the DVDs to prove it.

“You will open your mouth, Suzichan.  Wide open.”  Oh God, please not that!

“Your colleagues will now perform the bukkake. You will at all times keep your mouth open so that those gentlemen who wish may come inside. You will not swallow at all. When your mouth becomes too full you may let the ejaculations out into this.” She handed me a glass bowl, a bit like a medium sized cooking bowl.

“Hold it in your lap, under your chin. Everything that leaves your mouth must fall into the bowl. Do you understand what I want, milky girl?” She was still using that sing-song voice as if to a baby: so humiliating.

“Yes, Miss Yasuko,” I was now crying openly. I felt lower than a worm.

As in my two previous bukakkes the first shots of sperm landed almost as soon as she stepped to one side; they had all been masturbating as they listened to her giving me the instructions. One man came all over my face, while the man next to him came into my open mouth. I could feel his warm, sticky cum landing on my tongue and bouncing to the back of my throat. I nearly swallowed until I remembered my instructions. It was so hard not to gag and I made to spit the stuff in the bowl.

“No, Suzichan,” said my tormentress, “keep it in your mouth. And keep your mouth open.” Again that calm young voice and I realized I had involuntarily shut my mouth.  I opened it again just as the third man emptied the contents of his balls onto my tongue.  It was simply appalling, having to hold your mouth open so that a work colleague can deposit his sperm into it. I was sobbing now which only made the task worse.

After the fifth man my mouth felt impossibly full.  I could feel this pool of sperm sloshing about inside. It was threatening to overflow.  I would have to spit or swallow.

“Let it out slowly Suzichan,” said Yasuko. “Let it flow out of your mouth, over your chin and into the bowl. Slowly.”

Almost gratefully I did as commanded feeling the gross contents of my mouth dribbling slowly over my lips and sliding down my face to drip from my chin.  I could see the cameras catching it in close-up. I felt both humiliated as well as being inwardly appalled that I wasn’t rebelling.

The men approached quicker now.  A few of them missed my mouth and ended up all over my face or hair. Once I thought it was deliberate but others just came too fast to aim straight.

Five more times I had to empty my mouth on Yasuko’s order.  Then the line of men was done and I sat there, dazed and desperately wondering what was next.

“Very good, milky girl, now sit still,” said the faux-schoolgirl beside me. She took a plastic spoon and began to scrape up the sperm that had missed my mouth and to deposit it in the bowl. Some was on my face, some in my hair and there were a few spurts and drops on my clothes.

“Please put the bowl down, Suzichan.” Yasuko had place a low table on the floor before me.  Unable to help myself I stared at the contents: colors ranged from nearly colorless to white or creamy yellow. The volume must have been three times as much as I had ever had to swallow before and must have included a fair amount of my own saliva.  I desperately did not want Yasuko to ask me to do a gokkun. I was sure that amount would make me vomit.  Perhaps if I did throw up they would let me go, like they had let Natsuki go.

“Take this, milky girl,” said Yasuko handing me a toothbrush.  I was so grateful: she was going to let me brush my teeth to get rid of the taste. I sat there holding the brush and waiting for the toothpaste.

“Dip the brush in the bowl, Suzichan and brush your teeth.” That sweet sing-song voice telling me, no: ordering me, to do something so awful. Surely she could not want that. I burst out sobbing again. “Now, milky girl, obey me!”

Slowly I put the brush into the bowl of sperm and lifting it watched as big globs of spunk dropped back into the bowl.  But a lot remained on the bristles and reluctantly I put the brush into my mouth.

“Brush vigorously, little girl. Pretend you are brushing your teeth before you go to bed.”

I began to do as my instructor demanded. It was so completely disgusting.  She was making me do something I did every day but in a utterly degraded way.  It felt as if I were brushing the essence of all those men right into my gums.  I wondered if the taste would ever leave me. Not to mention how hard it is to brush your teeth while you are crying.

“Spit!”

I spat into the bowl, seeing the now foamy mass of sperm land on top of the rest.

“Again, milky girl.” Three times Yasuko made me dip the brush and begin again. As I was now methodically scrubbing my teeth she leant close and whispered in my ear: “Beg me politely for permission to drink the bowl and I will let you stop brushing.”

I was so desperate I gave in immediately. “Please Miss Yasuko; may I drink the bowl now?”  There was a little cheer from circle of men, now almost all dressed once more, who were watching me perform.  Not to mention the ever present cameras.

“Yes, Suzichan, you may drink. From the bowl and drink it all. Then you will thank the men humbly for your bukkake.”

What could I do but get it over with? It took for what seemed like forever to down the contents of the bowl, sperm and saliva both. I kept being sure I would chuck it all back up, but no, it stayed stubbornly in my stomach. Finally the bowl was empty, Yasuko used the spoon to make sure the last bits got to my mouth.

“Thank you all, gentlemen, for my bukkake,” I said in a low voice.

“Very humble, Suzichan, but say it louder,” said the schoolgirl-woman.

I repeated the phrase more clearly and she passed me a wet cloth with which to wash my face. However for the rest of the evening I had to remain in the stained suit and with drying globs of spunk in my hair. Perversely the men kept wanting to pat my tummy as if to convince themselves I really had swallowed all that sperm. I of course knew I had: it was as if I could feel it swilling around inside me.

*****

I was determined to rebel after that, to show my independence in some little way and so prove I was not completely in their power. I spent the weekend wondering what I could do to reassert myself without making my boss lose face and so risk my appraisal, which had reached extraordinary significance for me as the rest of my life blew apart. I considered moving out and into my own apartment. I could afford a studio to myself but this would mean being all alone and I did not want to lose Reika.  I need the companionship even at the cost of her dominance.  Even being forced to watch the ghastly DVD together on Sunday did not change my mind.

After debating all weekend with myself I decided I would rebel and assert myself by deliberately confronting my anonymous Subway groper.  He would lose face, as would I, but I was determined. So there I was on Monday morning, minus underwear as usual at Reika’s command, at the stop where we changed lines. I felt his familiar presence behind me and a little to my left; as normal Reika was facing me.  As I felt his fingers undoing my skirt and reaching inside to cup my pussy I wheeled around to confront him, holding my skirt to make sure it did not end up round my ankles.

I do not know what I expected, some dirty old man I suppose.  But it wasn’t: it was Mr Kurokawi, one of the six senior managers in Commodities Trading. I stood there shocked. He grinned and put his fingers back inside my skirt. I could do nothing but stand there as his digits forced their way into me.  As always at Reika’s say-so I had added lubrication before leaving home. Now I could hear her giggling behind me as she whispered in my ear.

“You are a naughty girl, Suzi. And so dirty. Dirty American girl!” I could feel her body pressed hard against my back.  By facing Mr. Kurokawi I made it much easier for him and soon he had two fingers buried to the knuckles in my vagina. He guided my free hand to his cock and I jerked him off. I suppose I should have recognized his penis, I had sucked it often enough on Thursdays, not to mention being fucked by it in a number of gangbangs.

As he came all over the inside of his coat and suit trousers I realized it had all been a set-up from the start and that Reika had been in on it. I felt further humiliated and hopeless: some rebellion! Then it got worse.

“Lick your fingers, Milky Girl.” This wasn’t from the manager but from my friend behind me. Helplessly I complied, there in the middle of a crowded subway train, tears running down my face.

I was wondering how Mr. Kurokawi got away with sperm stained trousers and coat. Later Reika told me that he just gave them to his PA and told her to get them drycleaned. He kept spare pairs in the office.

Why bother fighting it? They were always one step ahead of me.

*****

That Thursday as work was finishing Yasuko appeared in the office and had a private meeting with Mr. Takashita.  I assumed they were discussing what would be done to me that evening.  Evidently it required more preparation than usual.  I quaked at the thought.

At the club the half of the traders who had missed out the previous week was there together with the managers.  Mr. Kurokawi in particular gave me a big grin. The thought of what was inevitably to come made me so nervous I could barely eat. I forced myself to eat some plain rice though: a bowlful of sperm on an empty stomach did not bear thinking about. Yasuko was continuously at my side and was both encouraging and complimenting me.

“You look very beautiful tonight, Suzichan, so elegant.” “I believe you can be outstanding this evening.” And more such. The compliments made me feel good, the encouragement apprehensive, what did she have planned for me?

Eventually it was time. Yasuko asked for my cell phone.  It was in my bag over on one side where al the women had left theirs. I fetched it and offered it to Yasuko. She smiled and declined, leading me to the plastic chair in the centre of the room.

“You will now call Reika,” she said sweetly.  I looked around to see where my friend was but she had left the room, evidently so that I could call her. I pushed her number on speed-dial.

“Hiya Suzi,” came Reika’s voice.

“Put Reika on hold,” said Yasuko.  I complied. “Now, I expect you to talk to your friend during the bukkake. You will at all times keep your mouth open and your head tilted slightly back.” She took hold of my head and showed me the position she wanted me to hold. “Talk to your friend now!”

“Yes, Miss Yasuko.”

I took the phone off hold and heard Reika say, “I wish I was there but Yasuko said I had to be the one on the phone. I suppose we can watch it together on Sunday.”

As she was saying that the first of the traders shot off all over my face, some in my mouth but most on my forehead and nose. A second man followed, this timing seemingly aiming at my cell phone and ear, at least that is where it ended up. I was openly crying now.

“Oh, have they started?” Reika’s bright voice came down the line.

“Yeagh,” I replied, finding it hard to pronounce while trying to keep my mouth open as Yasuko carefully appraised my behavior. It was just as well as the next cock exploded voluminously into my mouth. As my head was tilted back a bit it all ran down toward my throat.  I guessed I was not supposed to swallow, but that was so hard. How could they expect me to do this, it was too horrible.

It continued in this vein for a while: guys coming over me, the cameras zooming in for close-ups and Yasuko giving me little instructions. I wondered if I would ever be able to make a phone call again without recalling this scene. Reika kept asking me questions that required a response and I had to reply by trying to form words. This became increasingly difficult as my mouth began to fill with sperm. Just trying to say something meant that inevitably some of the semen slipped down my throat while more of it overflowed and ran down my chin to drip onto my suit.

But only about half of the men seemed to be aiming at my open mouth, the rest were pointing their dicks at my phone and ear.  Soon it was all just one sticky mess.  I could still hear Reika chatting away (she was talking about where we should eat on Saturday now) but that was because the phone was pressed to my ear and nothing much could seep in there.  The microphone and key pad were completely coated in jizz as was my hand, ear and hair on the cell phone side. I doubt if Reika could understand a word I said: I was slurring with a mouthful of cum and the phone was coated in more of it.

Finally the parade of cocks slowed and then finished. I was left sitting on my little plastic chair with my phone stuck to my ear in a sea of spunk. My mouth was literally full and a little flow of it still dripped from my chin.

“Swallow, Milky Girl,” said Yasuko sweetly, “in one big mouthful.”

I did, feeling the huge mass of sperm sliding down my throat in a slippery lump. Gross,but by now quite manageable.

Thank God this week they let me go and shower. I could actually feel where the cum had leaked from chin to chest to bra and then all the way down to my waistband. After the quick hair wash I returned once more as Sailor Mercury. Miss Yasuko caught me by the arm and led me to where my cell lay on the table, completely drenched in goo.  Reika was there too and bounced up to give me a kiss on the cheeks, having to stand on tiptoes as I towered over her in my cartoon outfit.

“Do you think your phone still works, Suzichan?”

“I don’t know, Miss Yasuko.” I wondered what they wanted from me, was there more humiliation to come?

“As you have been a good milky girl today I think we should give you a present.” She slipped me a little packet, wrapped exquisitely in Japanese style.

I opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a new cell phone, the latest model and very expensive. It was the hard-to-get, must-have one that was a serious status symbol. I almost giggled inwardly as I thought that all you had to do to get one was get drenched in sperm by your colleagues.

“Put your SIM card in please, Milky Girl”

I had to disassemble the slippery, disgusting old phone and fish out the little chip. It and my fingers ended up covered in sperm.

“Lick it clean, Suzichan”

And I did, licking the chip and my fingers spotlessly free of spunk, then drying them on a napkin before putting the card into my new phone. Reika rang me immediately and everyone laughed as the heard her voice down the line again.

The party went on for quite a while and as Reika and I were preparing to leave I overheard Miss Yasuko (I had started to think of her as having the title attached to her name) talking to Mr. Takashita.

“I think she is ready Takashita-sama.  Not perfect yet, but ready.”

Ready for what I wondered. What more could they expect me to do?

Chapter Eight - Management Weekend

It didn’t take me that long to find out.  The following week an e-mail arrived requiring my attendance at a weekend away for the company’s most senior management.  I knew immediately that I was not being invited for my work: Mr. Takashita and other department heads were the lowest rung on the guest list apart from the four women.  I recognized only one of the names.  Mrs. Antaro was a finance manager in Corporate Finance on a grade above mine, in her mid-thirties and very competent.  I had to look up who the other two were: one was a PA and the other an analyst in Investments.

The weekend was scheduled for three days before my half-year appraisal, so I knew the pressure was on me not to screw up in front of the company’s most senior men. But what could they want with us?  There were twenty men and only four of us. Actually five women as Miss Yasuko appeared in my office to tell me she would be there and to inform me of what clothes to bring: Business suits, swimwear for the spa, exercise outfits for the gym.  She cheerily informed me that she would bring the ‘rest’.  I asked her humbly if she could tell me what was expected of me at the weekend.

“You’re best, Suzichan, you’re very best.”

I could get nothing more from her and Mr. Takashita was equally short when I approached him.  I was becoming increasingly nervous. Reika was no help as just the mention of the top management in the company made her nervous.

I threw myself into my work to take my mind off it. Even the usual weekly things seemed almost familiar and normal: groped on the train, lunchtimes at the Peach Blossom, Thursdays after work at the club.

*****

The Thursday evening before the weekend was cancelled and I spent the evening with Reika carefully packing my clothes and toiletries.  The e-mail specified that the other women and I would set off early on Friday to reach the resort by mid-afternoon.  The men would be flying later by helicopter when the day’s work was done.

As work began on Friday I stood outside the office with the other three women as a Lexus van pulled up and Miss Yasuko stepped out of the front passenger side.  The driver loaded our suitcases as she inspected us.  We were all done up in suits and perfect make-up.  I knew from the taut looks the others had that they too knew Yasuko. My apprehension leapt up another notch if that were possible: they must all be in the same position as me.

The drive was long and for the most part passed in silence: we were all lost in our own thoughts.  We stopped for lunch and made a somewhat feeble attempt at conversation but it soon tailed off.  I was grateful when the resort finally appeared. It was gorgeous and well worth the drive: beautiful Japanese buildings set in manicured parkland surrounded by forests and mountains. Our rooms weren’t large but were absolutely luxurious.  We all bathed and napped and then dressed for dinner with the senior executives who had flown in moments before. 

As there were no cameras at the dinner I relaxed and even enjoyed the attention of being one of five women in a room with twenty men.  And, as the only foreigner there and being dressed and made-up to the nines, I certainly got my fair share of attention. By the end of the meal I was fairly woozy from all the sake. The chairman started talking about the plan for the weekend, mostly to do with the annual budget for the company.  But at the end came the kicker:

“Over the weekend we will also hold the competition to find the best milky girl in the company. The first round will be tomorrow after work finishes.  Two girls will qualify for Sunday, two will go home.  The losers will be punished. On Sunday afternoon we will have the final.  The winner will be the champion and the loser of that round will be punished too, this time more severely. Sleep well gentlemen, I will see you at 8.00am tomorrow. Ladies: you are free till the evening.”

*****

We spent Saturday as a group in the spa being pampered.  And no one does pampering like the Japanese.  Hot pools, facials, massages, manicures, we tried them all.  Funnily enough I managed to relax and enjoy myself.  Even Yasuko was approachable and girly as she joined in the fun. Only Norika Antaro, the finance manager, wasn’t completely relaxed.  She never lost fully her air of tense nervousness, but then she had been there last year.  Yasuko let slip that Norika had been the winner.  Apparently this had been going on for years: winners came back to defend their title, losers only by invitation. Apparently the girl who came second last year had left the company and the other two had not been asked back.

Then suddenly it was late afternoon, time had flown past. Yasuko returned to her dominant role and sent us to change into swimwear (one piece suits – no bikinis). We came down in big fluffy spa dressing gowns to the room where the men were waiting, but shed the robes when we were inside.  I was trembling with nervousness now; funnily Norika finally seemed relaxed, as if starting had calmed her. The two younger girls were changed too: one was nearly in tears and the other had a completely blank look.

From a beam hung four ropes each with a pair of leather cuffs.  Miss Yasuko told us to kneel beneath a rope each. We did so meekly and she fixed our wrists into the cuffs.  This held our hands above our heads but wasn’t otherwise particularly uncomfortable. Meanwhile the men split into four ‘teams’ of five, standing in a line in front of us. Miss Yasuko, back in her schoolgirl dominatrix mode, explained the rules:

“You will suck your men one after the other. The men are not allowed to touch themselves. After each man has come in your mouth you will spit the sperm into the team bowl.  The winner is the girl and the team that finish first. A set of golf clubs is the prize for each man in the winning team. Girls, for you this is the first of two competitions this evening.  Points will be carried forward. But first let’s make you a little more exciting for your men.”

With this she picked up a pair of scissors, grabbed the front of Norika’s swimsuit right above her left nipple, pulled it out and cut the fabric away. When she let it go the finance manager’s nipple stuck out of the ragged hole. Seven more cuts, each to cheers from the men, and all our nipples were out in the open.  My suit had not been cheap and was now ruined. I wondered idiotically if I could put it on my expenses. I briefly contemplated refusing to take part, to just hang there and let it happen but not participate.  But I knew Mr. Takashita would lose face and I would get a poor appraisal after all that I had undergone.

“Go!”

The first man, from HR I think, approached me and I opened my mouth. He was already more than half-hard and I instinctively sucked as vigorously as I could. I could hear him groan and felt him holding the back of my head. Then he began sawing back and forth, fucking my face. I tried to keep my teeth out of the way, while sucking and trying to breathe. Believe me it is not easy. Fortunately he didn’t last too long; I suppose he wanted those golf clubs. He held the bowl to my mouth so I could spit out the big mass of spit and sperm.

I noticed that Norika and the PA were already on their second as I opened my mouth for the next urgent cock. My sense of competition must have taken over, I worked like a demon: a cocksucking machine on overdrive. By the time my last, Mr. Takashita stepped up I had caught up with Norika and left the others behind. I knew this prick so well by now, knew exactly what turned it on, exactly how to play it.  He came in less than a minute and I finished just ahead of Norika. We hung there in our bonds gasping as the other two finished their last men. My jaw and tongue muscles were in cramp. Meanwhile there was a lot of cheering from my team with all the men congratulating Mr. Takashita. I realized that as far as the company was concerned I was his protégé. If I did well it reflected on him, my position was irrelevant. My arms were aching by now and Miss Yazuko came along and undid the cuffs.

“Clean your bowls girls!”

With that we lifted the glass bowls, tilted our heads back and poured the contents into our open mouths. From the corner of my eyes I noticed that Norika did it with no effort at all, she didn’t even seem to be swallowing, just pouring it down her throat. Beyond her I saw that the analyst girl was struggling to get it all down.

“Go and change for dinner, girls,” said Miss Yazuko, not unkindly.  Clearly our performance had not upset her.

*****

We showered quickly, put on make-up and dressed in formal business attire before joining the men for dinner.  They meanwhile had changed out of business suits into more casual clothes, or at least as casual as a Japanese manager ever gets.

Dinner was served by beautiful women in expensive kimonos and the food was without a doubt the best I had ever had in Japan.  There was plenty of sake too and while I had a couple of little cups I mostly abstained.  I knew there was a second round tonight.  I did notice that the analyst from Investments was drinking quite a bit, probably to calm her nerves.

The men on my table were all from my ‘team’ and were scrupulously polite and courteous.  It was strange to remember that only an hour ago they had all enthusiastically fucked my face.  Mr. Takashita was visibly proud of me and this made me feel good.  It was like I had turned into an approval addict.

As the meal finished two serving girls entered. The first was carrying a tray with three very expensive bottles of brandy. The second had a similar tray but with four large liter-sized measuring beakers.  Each beaker was full of sperm to the 500ml. mark.  I had no idea where it must all have come from, I supposed it had been kept in a fridge till needed but now it was at room temperature.  I wondered how many men it took to get that volume, maybe a hundred.  This was a simply enormous quantity, more than a full pint back home, and more than I’d ever managed to ingest.

I glanced at my fellow contestants: Norika had a blank look, the PA had tears rolling down her cheeks and the analyst was as white as Japanese can go.

“Girls, you will now gokkun,” said Miss Yazuko.  “The winner will be the one who finishes their portion first.  Of course, as good milky girls, you are expected to keep your entire offering in your stomachs.  You may start now.”

I noticed that Norika picked up the beaker immediately while the rest of us hesitated.  If she could do that throat trick again she was bound to win. I couldn’t help but look: she tipped her head back and slowly began to pour the steady stream of spunk into her mouth. Her throat muscles were working reflexively as if accepting and aiding the flow into her stomach rather than just swallowing.

I tore myself away and realized I would have to try the same if I were to have any chance of keeping up. Tipping the beaker up, I let a dribble of sperm into my mouth.  It was warm and slimy as always with that powerful bleachy, male smell. I let it slide to the back of my mouth and tried to swallow reflexively. I worked!  If I kept the flow slow and steady and just relaxed my throat then the peristalsis just kicked in by itself and did its job.  I had to stop once to take a deep breath before restarting but soon it was all gone.  My poor stomach felt outrageously full and I knew that if I so much as burped I would lose it all.  I sat there concentrating on not vomiting.

Norika had clearly finished long before me.  I imagined that she did not even have to stop for the breath the way I had.  The other girls were using the traditional technique of pouring in a mouthful and then swallowing. This was both slower and meant you had the sperm in your mouth for longer and so tasted it so much more. The PA finished first and sat there breathing deeply and desperately while weeping a little.  The poor analyst girl seemed to continue forever. Finally she swallowed the last but one mouthful and then helplessly vomited the entire contents of her stomach up and all over herself. She did not even bend over as I would have; she just lowered her head a little while wave after wave poured from her mouth.  The poor thing kept apologizing over and over: ‘gomen nasai, gomen nasai’ as she stared at her lap which now contained her dinner, copious sake and a sea of sperm. She wouldn’t even look up, her humiliation was too complete.

The sight of this almost made me lose it too and I noticed Norika and the PA struggling too.  Miss Yazuko stood up.

“The winner tonight is Mrs. Norika. Suzichan won earlier.  These girls will stay for tomorrow while the other two will go back to Tokyo. But first your punishment: you will each receive five strokes of the cane from your boss. Miss Anna will go first, while Miss Yumi removes all her messy clothes.”

Miss Yasuko let the poor PA over to one of the low tables and pushed her over it. She made the woman grip the far corners in her hands.  She pulled up her skirt revealing smooth buttocks, bisected by the gusset of her little panties and framed by the garter-straps holding up her stockings.

“For each stroke that you make a noise with or release your grip another will be added.  Do not disappoint me further.”

The poor woman did not make a sound or move a muscle, except for the frantic clenching and reclenching of her bottom muscles.  Soon there were five nasty-looking wheals across her behind. She was helped to rise and allowed to leave the room.

The analyst stood there stark naked in a room where everyone else was dressed.  I knew how humiliating that felt and I hadn’t failed in a task when it had happened to me.  She was weeping quietly as Miss Yazuko arranged her on the table.

I was passed a glass of brandy by Mr. Takashita who stood next to me with a hand gently on my shoulder.  I basked in his approval, pathetic as it may seem.  I needed someone there to like me.

It did not go well for the unfortunate girl. It took twelve vicious strokes before Miss Yazuko allowed that five had been acceptable.  Her poor backside was crisscrossed with angry red stripes.  I thought they would take weeks to fade.

As she was allowed to leave, still completely nude, Miss Yazuko addressed Norika and me.

“You may leave now and have your rest.  Tomorrow afternoon we will find out who is the best milky girl. For the loser the punishment will be worse than tonight.  For the winner there will be a suitable reward.”

Quickly Norika and I fled the room.

Chapter Nine – Winning and Losing

I skipped breakfast, figuring that I had swallowed enough calories last night to last me for a while. I met a tense Norika in the spa. After a little while I tried quizzing her about this afternoon and about what the worse punishment might be.  She was very evasive.

“I cannot tell you, Suzi, it is forbidden.  I would get in so much trouble.  And they would know if I told you, they just would.”

Instead we ended up chatting about work and family.  She was married and her husband had worked in the car industry.  He’d been hurt in an accident and now he was at home with their son.  They got some disability payout from his former firm but they needed her income and so there was no chance of her giving up her job.  And after gentle probing from me she told me he had no idea of her other activities at work.  It was clear that she was even more effectively trapped than I was.  I felt a wave of sympathy.

Yazuko joined us in the pool and for a light lunch.  Then it was time to dress to join the men. Poor Norika and I were back in our formal business attire while the men were as before in more relaxed outfits.  It hardly seemed fair but then nothing about this was remotely fair.  Miss Yazuko insisted that our hair be tied at the back in a single braid.

*****

Miss Yazuko, in her schoolgirl outfit, led us to a table in the middle of the room.  Two chairs were on either side and soon Norika and I were sat facing each other. I stared at her hoping for a sign of our shared ordeal and growing friendship, but I saw nothing except grim determination.  She was clearly focusing on not losing this contest, which only served to make me even more nervous than before.  It must be really bad to make her so unfeeling.

A girl in a kimono brought in two noodle bowls and two straws on an elegant lacquered tray. The bowls were the most elegant Japanese chinaware but predictably were half-full of sperm. My first thought was that this wouldn’t be too bad: the volume was nowhere near as much as last night, maybe one fifth of the volume.  And if we had to suck it up through a straw then Norika’s throat trick wouldn’t work. The straws were glass and maybe half the length of a normal drinking version.

“Now, milky girls,” said our instructor in her sing-song voice, “the first task today is to empty your bowls. In order to make the contest more interesting you will not use your mouths. You will instead snort the entire contents into your pretty noses using the straw provided.  I expect you to use both nostrils: no cheating by using just one side. You may begin: now!”

For a moment I sat there stunned.  Surely not! But Norika had already picked up the straw and was leaning over her bowl. She plunged the end into the slimy goo and put her nose to the other.

I grabbed my straw and followed suit. It turned out that you had to use one hand to maneuver the straw while a finger of the other hand had to keep the unused nostril closed. I imagine snorting cocaine must be similar except that is a small quantity of dry white powder as opposed to a sizable amount of viscous white slime. As soon as it hit my nostrils my whole body seemed suffused with the smell.  I could feel the slipperiness of it sliding down the back of my poor throat and into my mouth. And the effort of snorting something so sticky was almost impossible.

I glanced up at Norika to check her progress and saw the trick to doing it. She was keeping the straw at the surface of the liquid so that she was sucking up air as well as sperm. This made it much easier. Soon I was racing to catch up, changing nostrils at Miss Yazuko’s instruction. My whole head felt as if it were clogged with spunk.  I was sure my sinuses would be leaking this goo for weeks.

Inevitably Norika finished before me.  I could hear the sound of her straw moving round the nearly empty bowl catching the last drops while I still had a pool in the bottom of mine. I finished minutes after her.  If I were to win I would have to trounce her in the other task.  I sat there panting miserably as I tried to get my breath back.

I had hoped there would be a break between the trials, but there was none. We looked fine from the outside: there was need to tidy ourselves up as far as the managers were concerned.

*****

“Very good, milky girls!  Mrs Norika wins the round. Suzichan will have to work very hard to have any chance. Gentlemen, would you please go into your teams.” Miss Yazuko chivvied them into two groups.

“Now Mrs. Norika, as the winner you get to choose your team.” Norika nodded to the group of ten men that had her manager in it.  I was left with the group containing Mr. Takashita.

“Girls, you will now have one hour. You may do whatever you please but the milky girl who makes her team climax the most times wins.  Gentlemen, please do not hold back: join in with whatever your girl wants.  Please do not make yourselves come though, that is your girl’s task.  Start: now!”

Basically she had given us a gangbang race.  I was terrified but even worse was the thought of the nameless punishment. I jumped up and began removing my skirt, jacket, blouse, bra and panties, leaving only my stockings on.

“Please Gentlemen, would you mind undressing?” I asked politely as I furiously divested my clothes.

As soon as I was naked I pushed Mr Takashita onto a futon couch over by the windows and straddled him. Just looking at the size of his cock made me wet enough. I grunted as I forced myself down onto him, feeling him fill my pussy so entirely. Looking over I could see that Norika was on her knees with one man in her mouth while she used her hands on two others; she was still fully dressed. I grabbed a second man and pulled him towards my mouth as I rode my manager deliberately rubbing my breasts against his hairy chest.

I don’t know how hot it looked but it certainly worked for the man in my mouth. He came within a minute. I spat out the mixture of sperm and saliva into my hand and reaching back shoved two fingers forcefully deep into my bottom to lubricate it. There was no difficulty persuading one of the guys to fill my behind while I guided another into my mouth. That fantastic feeling of fullness made me climax; I can’t help it, it seems to work every time. My team cheered as they watched me come. Mr Takashita followed as did the man in my backside.

And so it went for a crazy hour. I was fucking them two or three at a time. Once I even had four on the go: I sat in someone’s lap with their cock in my anus, a second fucked me, a third was in my mouth while I gave a handjob to a fourth.  I came again while on all fours with Mr. T in my pussy while two other men were shoving themselves in my face.

A couple of times I glanced over at Norika. She was still on her knees with three men on her at all times. She was obviously spitting out the men’s sperm as the whole front of her suit and blouse were matted with the mess. At one point I actually saw arcs of sperm jetting from a man in her left hand through the air and onto her face and into her hair. Surely her way was less efficient than mine?  But then I knew how well bukkakes worked. I had just made another mistake, hadn’t I?

When Miss Yazuko called time I didn’t even hear her. I was kneeling in front of a sitting man with my head in his lap and his cock in my throat while arching my back so another man could fuck my bottom.  Eventually the laughter brought me back.

“You can keep on sucking and fucking all afternoon Suzichan,” laughed Miss Yazuko, “but it won’t count towards your score from now on!”

I slumped over to my side, half lying on the futon and half on the floor, feeling the man slipping wetly from my behind. I was dazed from the effort of fucking so hard.  It was as if I had run a half-marathon. I was too exhausted to even arrange myself better: my legs sagged apart and I could feel the vast quantity of sperm inside me slowly oozing itself out.

“Sake?” A serving girl in a kimono was offering me a glass. I could see by the look in her eyes that she thought I was an utter slut.  I couldn’t really argue, every senior manager in the company had seen me climax in a public gangbang, more than once and now I was lying there oozing spunk from every orifice.  Gratefully I took the little glass and gulped it down.

“Gentlemen: the result,” intoned Miss Yazuko in the tones of a sports commentator.  “Mrs. Norika has managed eighteen men. As you all know she is really a superior milky girl. Mr. Hashimoto even managed it three times!”  There was a cheer and back-slapping from his friends.

“Suzichan went for her more Western approach.  And we all saw how much she enjoys it! Mr. Takashita demonstrated to us how he gets the very best out of his junior managers!” This occasioned more guffawing and general male bonding.

“But it has to be admitted that this time we failed to see a triumph for Japanese techniques. Suzichan managed twenty-nine climaxes, not including her own two.  That is nearly one every three minutes.  Mr. Ogoni even managed it four times in the hour: In her mouth, in her cunt and twice in her all-American asshole.”  There was a cheer and the man who had come in my mouth in that first minute took a bow.

“I declare that over the two tasks Suzichan is the champion!”

I had won! I could hardly believe it. I glanced over at Norika who was still kneeling where she had been sucking.  She was crying, the first time I had seen this. I mouthed ‘sorry’ at her but she showed no sign of seeing me.

I was helped to my feet and someone helped me on with a big fluffy bathrobe. The doors to the terrace were being opened and we all went out onto the terrace overlooking a wooded mountain valley.  It was breathtakingly beautiful and another glass of sake was passed to me by Mr Takashita who was visibly beaming at me. The senior managers all sat in armchairs as girls brought out refreshments. I perched on my boss’ chair’s arm at his side and at his command. He tugged my robe half-open so that my breasts were visible. I didn’t even think of resisting.

“A present for the winner!” Miss Yasuko passed me an embroidered jewel box that was a work of art in its own right. Inside nestled a gorgeous piece of jade in the shape of a flying crane on a gold chain. It was fastened and the cool stone nestled between my breasts. I understood now why they had to be on display.  It must have been worth a fortune: thousands of dollars at least.

“And punishment for the loser!” Poor Norika was led from the room onto the terrace, still dressed in her destroyed suit and weeping openly.  She was muttering ‘no,no’ over and over again. She was pushed over a sort of hassock and her hands were bound to the legs at the far side.  This seemed strange to me as usually part of the fun for the men seemed to be forcing you to submit without constraints.

Then the reason became suddenly clear. From round the corner of the building three big Japanese Tosa dogs were brought forth.  If you haven’t seen one of these they are something like a mastiff except a bit taller. Surely they weren’t going to?

But they were. The dog handler was a woman dressed in Japanese peasant style.  Horrified I watched as she knelt and manipulated the first animal’s penis with grease while Miss Yazuko pulled up Norika’s skirt and tugged down her panties.  I wanted to go help my friend, to shout ‘stop’, instead I just sat there frozen on the arm of chair.

I looked at my boss hoping that I could see something I could do, but he seemed as avid as the rest in watching the coming show. The animal’s cock was red and swollen by now, as big as a large man’s but with a visible knot the size of a tennis ball near the base. At a command from his owner he jumped up so his paws were on the hassock either side of the poor victim’s shoulders. A wail came from Norika’s throat as the beast’s well-greased organ slid into her pussy.

I couldn’t stand it and looked away, focusing instead on my boss as if to pay him the proper attention.  He was staring at the dog furiously fucking my friend and did not notice my distress.  That was so nearly me there over that hassock.  Part of me even wished it had been me so that Norika could have been spared.

Nothing shut out the sound of the animalistic coupling though: the sobbing of poor Norika, the slapping of each in-stroke, the squelching sounds of the out-strokes.  I couldn’t bear it but had no choice. Three times the poor woman was fucked by the dogs.  Occasionally Miss Yazuko would approach me and force me to watch for a few moments.

And so I saw the first beast withdrawing from my companion with a flood of dog sperm gushing from her slit. I saw as her ponytail was tugged back so that her head was raised and the second dog’s penis slipped into her sobbing mouth. I saw our instructor girlishly ordering her to swallow the copious flood of canine sperm after she had sucked the beast to a climax. 

Finally I saw how the third animal’s organ was presented to her backside and forced into her anus.  At this Norika completely broke down, begging and sobbing and screeching.  It seemed an endless litany of ‘no’, ‘please’ and ‘stop’ repeated over and over again.

When it was over we were allowed to leave: two of the serving girls half carrying Norika as she stumbled away while Miss Yazuko led me behind. Norika’s skirt had been pulled back into place but I could see the vast stream of sperm running down her legs and leaving little footprints at each step.

An hour later we had showered and packed and met outside for the drive back to Tokyo.  It was a big Lexus this time and Miss Yazuko sat in the front next to the silent chauffeur while Norika and I were in the back. While my friend had showered and changed the poor thing was still in shock, apparently the serving girls had done everything for her.

We sat silently for a few minutes till I could stand it no longer. I shoved up the armrest and reached for her. With a sob she collapsed into my lap and seemed to cry all the way back to the city.  I stroked her hair and made wordless sympathetic sounds, relieved and guilty that I had survived and she had suffered.

Chapter Ten – Epilogue

It is now a little over six months later.

My six month and annual appraisals were impressive and when my year was up I was promoted and given a much wider role in analysis across the company.  I moved to a corner office and was entitled to my own PA.  I chose the older secretary, Natsuki, to get her away from her younger boss who was still tormenting her. He didn’t resist too hard and gave in after I let him take my bottom one last time.

Because now I no longer have to go to lunch at the Peach Blossom Hotel, at least not with staff or managers on my grade.  Only senior managers can insist on my presence and that happens only once a week or so.  Mr Ogoni who had taken such a shine to me at the gangbang is my most frequent partner.  And as senior managers they would lose face if they did not pay well.

I am still in my flat with Reika, but she no longer has to report on me to Mr Takashita.  I am now one of his direct reports and my bond to the company is now so solid that even if I wanted to I could never leave.

Thursday nights are now spent in the company of groups of senior managers at some exclusive club or another.  Occasionally Miss Yazuko will take me to another department in the company and make me show off my milky girl skills. She is always looking for some new way of tormenting me: bukkakes in my armpits or across my breasts, making me wear a modified snorkeling mask that allows my whole face to swim in a sea of sperm, drying a mask of sperm onto my face with a hair dryer and then pealing it off before making me eat it, wearing nose hooks to hold my nostrils open, eating dinner swimming in sperm and so many other weird ideas.  My DVD collection keeps growing.

But as my lunchtimes are now usually my own I can spend them at the noodle bar with other women from the office.  It is my favorite time of the day. Most often this includes Norika. She seems to have recovered well and I think being with me makes her feel less isolated.  She can talk to someone who knows what she has gone through.  I love being with her.

In fact, I love her.  And that is a whole new problem.

The End.

*********************************

Thank you for reading this and apologies for my errors of grammar and spelling.  Feel free to send your comments to surtea@live.co.uk. I am writing another story, but not set in Japan.

Surtea