Erotic, Highly Charged Tale

THE BREAKING OF MISS CHOU

One

I was never naive, nor did I lack sexual desire. I was raised by a strict Buddhist mother Ami in Sedona to believe in purity and self-respect. My schooling was largely uneventful; a small school house outside of our village in the red rock background of Sedona. Mother ran a shop selling trinkets for the tourists, father descended from the Apache tribe and as tourism developed business flourished. They were respected people and I was their only child. I attended school, studied, worked in the shop and studied in the evening. My friends would spend their evenings with local boys, but Mother said that was not respectable behaviour.

My school predicted excellent grades and at seventeen I sent my application to Princeton to study Japanese and English. My awakening began during the stresses of my final exams. Our wooden house sat behind our wooden shop. The excess of work and the echoing clang of the wind chimes caused fatigue to resonate through my veins. Mother told me to return to the house and sleep. The heat was not as profound as the previous weeks and with my window ajar a breeze floated across my pink sheets. I was soon asleep, and the dream came, the dream that was to change the course of my summer.

Drifting, floating, and then darkness. My eyes opened to a brilliant light and then I was present and aware of my surroundings. My chest was tight and my arms unable to move. Slowly I cast my glance down to my body and found a thick rope clasping me to the rough bark of a sequoia. A sheer white gown hung ripped from my smooth shoulders and caressed my thighs. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. I struggled against my bonds, but they were too tight and then he appeared. An ancestor of my father’s tribe, youthful with swarthy skin and a perfectly sculpted body strode towards me.

He halted abruptly in front of me and spoke in a dialect beyond my linguistic capacity. I did not answer, could not answer, so I shook my head and pleaded for my release. He spoke again, his voice grew louder, but again I could only shake my head. I felt tears prick my eyes. This was a new situation for me, I did not realize that I was dreaming I just knew that I was in an unusual situation, one alien to my mundane, innocent life. As he spoke again the aggression in his tone pierced my soul, I shuddered and in response he drew a crudely crafted, but large and savage knife.

Cool steel stroked my neck, the threat of death combined with helplessness tore through me. The blade massaged my throat and moved slowly from side to side, the point tickled my heart and rose again. The soft gliding motion abruptly changed as did the look on my nemesis face. He sneered cruelly as the hilt was ripped upwards and the left sleeve of my gown ripped and floated down my shoulder and then with the same rapid motion the right sleeve fell pulling the bustier section of my dress down revealing my naked, vulnerable flesh.

Darkened nipples, hardened by gentle winds, pointed imploringly at my attacker. I realized that I was no longer afraid, I was aroused. I had felt attracted to others before, but never fully aroused. This was different, this was a growing desperation. He sheathed his knife and stepped forward glaring at me with a cruel smirk. A large hand cupped my right breast and his fingers curved around my nipple tugging gently. I heard my breathing deepen and almost instinctively slightly opened my legs to relieve the rising ache that was pulsating though my dampening snatch.

It was impossible to hide my lust and in response he took my nipple in between his teeth using his tongue to circle the end. My eyes closed, I could not resist. His left hand lowered, reaching for the hem of my dress. I felt his rough hand stroke my thigh, pulling my dress roughly upwards. I accommodated by opening further for him. The knuckle of his thumb caught between my legs as his fingers clasped urgently at my inner thigh. His sucking grew deeper as his long fingers explored higher stroking me over my panties. I knew what I wanted. I wanted to be fucked there and then. It didn’t matter that he was a stranger, or that it would be shameful. All that mattered was my own release.

Teasing, teasing for so long! His fingers stroked me over my panties backwards and forwards, forcing the arousal to plateau making me want to beg for more. He lifted his head and roughly grabbed my neck forcing my head backwards. His lower hand withdrew, and the knife was drawn again, dragged excruciatingly up my leg and wiped backwards and forwards then the metal split my panties and the weapon was twisted. With the leather hilt he encircled my clit, then caressed towards my dampness, pressing gently and raising again to the clit. I was passing the plateau. As my excitement grew so too did his rhythm and strokes. His hand still pressured my neck, his eyes still bore into my soul.

With one quick motion he released his prick, dropped the blade and stabbed deep into me. His body pushed my wetness against my clit and he pushed so deeply and slowly in, retracted slightly and pushed deeper. His cock was rigid, his body just as hard. He pushed in deeper and deeper and…..

I awoke, the night was upon me. The breeze delicate and only the sounds of crickets could be heard. I was wet all over, urgent, I found my hand wedged crudely between my own legs and as shameful as it may seem I could not stop. I could not stop imagining being fucked, being the willing victim. Enjoying the experience in the absence of shame, under the pretence that I had no choice.

My hand hardened, the wrist pressing against my clit as the fingers entered my cunny and I pushed against it, rode it. Imagined my body being used, imagined indulging myself in wanton lust, allowing myself to be licked. One man, two men…. In that moment I decided I would find a way… One fucking me, one sucking my tits, raising my legs, both coming all over me, then I felt the pulses growing, I could not stop and in one moment I exploded. The relief was unbearably painful and perfect. My plan was unstoppable.

Two

Once my exams were over, I had several months free before commencing university. I could not bring shame to my family locally, if I was going to exploit my innocence then it would have to be in another world, I would follow my roots to Japan. I told Mother and Father that I wanted to practice my Japanese prior to attending university and learn more of my cultural heritage. Of course, I had another, deeper agenda. I had read in a recent article that additional carriages were being added to Japanese trains to prevent sexual activity. The additional carriages would be for women only. Further research indicated that numerous incidents of sexual impropriety occurred daily on mixed sex carriages. I had found my training ground.

Inner city trains seemed grubby and overcrowded, I wanted some level of beauty surrounding my first experiences. In addition to my flights I booked transfers to Hakone, land of the Hot Springs and a trip on the Odakyu express from Hakone to Shinjuku at the bottom of Mount Fuji. The train would take me through the cherry blossoms littering the countryside to the golden leaved, majestic trees leading to the mountain. I hoped to leave my chrysalis and blossom into a golden butterfly. It was ideal.

I had saved enough from working in the shop to fund the trip, but I don’t feel it necessary to discuss the details of my trip and transfers. Suffice it to say I slept for most of the journey so that I would wake fresh and prepared. I arrived in Hakone on an early summer’s evening, took a delightful sushi meal in my room and prepared myself for the endeavours of the next day. A hot bath, flavoured with cherry blossom salts provided a matrix in which I could scrub every inch of my body and remove every hair, whilst enjoying a luxurious deep cleansing face mask. I rested in the waters for some time, before vacating the tub and rubbing lavender oil into my soft skin.

Underwear should be just as enticing as clothes. I had made a purchase in Tokyo and laid my particulars on the dressing table. I wanted to appear sexually attractive, whilst reinforcing the notion of my innocence. I chose a silky white bra and thong, laced and ribboned, a pair of white hold ups, slightly netted with ribbons that cling about three inches above the knees. My outer garments also needed to attract, so I selected a black skirt that just about revealed a hint of skin between stocking top and hem and a white blouse, thin enough to reveal the contours of my bra and breasts and black shoes with a slight heel to emphasize the shape of my legs.

I waited until my freshly washed, long, black hair was merely damp and brushed it, twisted it and wrapped each twist with ribbons, so that my look would be completed with thick, flowing ringlets. I then reclined on the bed and slept deeply, anticipating my forthcoming debauchery with the trepidation of innocence and the excitement built up from unresolved lust.

Three

Time slowed waiting for the train to arrive. I had concerns, worries that my plan would not work, that no one would want to take advantage of me, and worries that my plan would work, and I would do something wrong or feel ashamed. No one was talking on the platform, the air was heavy, filled with the sound of an old ticking clock. I felt self-conscious, exposed in my scanty clothes. I had never worn a thong before and I could feel the pressure scratching my backside and rubbing my clit. I couldn’t wait, but I waited, nervous, desperate, and ambivalent. I waited.

Eventually the train arrived. I had kept my eyes cast down the whole time that I was waiting. Perhaps it was because I wanted others to perceive me as innocent or perhaps, I was scared to see my potential sexual assailants. The train squealed to a halt and I stepped into the bar carriage and ordered a double whiskey. I do not care for the drink but needed additional courage. The glass was empty by the time the train heaved itself out of the station. I did not know exactly how to captivate my nemesis but knew that standing in the bar would not assist my cause. I decided to walk slowly through the train and hope that opportunity would present itself.

The first passenger carriage was barren, just a few tourists staring in awe out of the grubby windows. The next carriage was upper class, small self-contained booths. Two men sat reading papers in the first booth, clearly Japanese in both appearance and literature.

Businessmen with briefcases, wearing suits. Neither looked up. I stopped and peered in, considering my options. My thoughts were interrupted by a guard who had appeared at the far end of the corridor, ‘Madam,’ he called in his native language ‘I am required to see your ticket.’ An opportunity! As if on autopilot I lowered my head and walked very slowly towards him until we were both standing in the cove between carriages.

A tall man, tanned skin, small moustache and welcoming eyes. He seemed alert and clean with a strong scent of aftershave echoing from him. I stopped directly in front of him, widened my eyes and stared into his before glancing away,

‘Ticket?’ he repeated. I always carry a small black, leather bag for money and cards. This day was no different. Instead of opening it however, I removed it from my shoulder and dropped it to the floor bending forward so that he could see partially up my skirt. I pretended to rummage for some time and then surreptitiously glanced over my shoulder. He had stepped back and was clearly admiring the view.

My fumbling stopped, and I rose to once again meet his stare, for an awkward moment nothing was done or said. I lowered my eyelids again, but his hand lifted my chin and raised my head to meet him. A hand gripped mine and I was roughly dragged into the guard’s car. The door was locked as the scenery whizzed by. We were alone. The space was small, claustrophobic, containing a few controls, an ebony leather chair and a window filled with images of ripening blossoms. The guard released his harsh grip and eased me into the seat, his mahogany eyes still fixated on mine.

This was what I had wanted, what I had waited for. It was truly happening. He was clearly confident, experienced and determined. I had to let him take control. As soon as I relaxed his hands clasped my waist and moved upwards towards the buttons on my chemise. With one flick a middle button was popped open and four fingers slid in to feel my breasts through the laciness of my tight bra. He leaned in and his lips gently kissed mine, I found myself kissing back. Softly at first just lips to lips, but then his lips parted, and his tongue entered my mouth, massaging my tongue. Another button popped undone, then another as he kissed me deeper. I had never been kissed, and although awkward at first, it made me feel sexual. The more he kissed, the deeper his tongue went, the more at ease I felt.

With growing confidence, I touched his chest, rubbed, felt his nipples, his abdomen and as his hands pulled down the cups of my bra and pleasured my nipples my hands lowered with ease to feel his hardness. He gasped and pulled away taking my top down and pulling my bra down, but not taking it off. He sat slightly backwards and raised the hem of my skirt up slightly giving a greater flash of thigh. Anxious hands gripped my knees and parted my legs and his head dropped kissing each of my inner thighs in turn with a furious passion. I stroked his jet-black hair and sighed deeply. Hands groped my thong and it was steadily drawn down my legs and dropped to the floor.

I lay back across his chair. Breasts revealed, skirt lifted, stockings rubbing against his mouth and his hands fingering and circling my clit. He licked my thighs, up my legs and around my clit. His fingers lowered and lowered as I ached for him to be inside me. Knuckles pushed against my opening, sore, pain with pleasure. The knuckle unfolded, and a thumb filled me.

With shock he abruptly ceased, ‘Virgin?’

To continue reading (free) please go to http://duchessofdarkness.com/erotic-tales/ 

Please follow me

Please follow and like us:

Leave a Reply

Enjoy this blog? Please spread the word :)

%d bloggers like this: