Steve sat alone in a booth near the front of the main room, watching a gorgeous young Asian woman setting up the bar. He was curious how Carol managed to get such attractive women to work for her. He hadn't seen her here before, but he hadn't been there in almost two weeks.
She had the most lovely eyes, a terrific figure, and wore her hair midway down her back, permed with tiny waves. It was pulled tight around her head, held in back with a black velvet ribbon, then fanned out as it fell past her shoulders. She wore a black velvet choker with a large jade and diamond cluster in front, which made him think of an S&M collar.
He had a hard time guessing her age. She was dressed so elegantly and seemed so sophisticated that he thought that she was in her late twenties, but there was a babyish look to her face that made her look much younger, perhaps as young as eighteen.
Like all the women who worked there, she was dressed to the hilt in sexy evening clothes. They all wore dresses of silk, satin, or his favorite, that new nylon jersey that flowed like water over their bodies. The dress she wore was black nylon, with black lace panels along both sides that showed nothing but skin peaking through. Her tiny platform shoes had heels at least five or six inches high, which made her legs look a mile long. Altogether the look was both soft and wicked, and he longed for the chance to play with her.
The place was empty, having just opened, and he rapped out a fancy rhythm on the table top in accompaniment to the jukebox. Then, to his surprise, the lovely thing he had been gazing at came over and sat down beside him.
"Hi Steve. You going meet Carol here?"
"Darn!" he thought to himself. "Nothing worse than being the boss's boyfriend in a situation like this!"
"Yeah, she said she would come by after work. Not for a while, I think."
"Carol like you a lot. She always talking about you, you know. She a good lady."
"Yes, she is. How do you like working for her?"
"Oh, it's all right, I guess. I like this place, real classy. Nice guys come, not like some places."
"You all look so good, I think that's why. Your dress is super!"
"Carol picked it out for me. You like?"
Steve reached out and ran his finger over her thigh, just above her kneecap.
"Gee, this is nice. It feels really good," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Mmm, yes, I like it too."
Steve kept drawing little circles just above her kneecap, waiting to see how ticklish she was. "It's so smooth and soft, like a slip. It must feel great to wear."
The young woman let out a little squeal and pushed his hand away. "Ohhhh, stop, please! That tickles! You do that too much and I'll get in trouble."
"Get in trouble?" Steve asked, thankful that she was not one of those cold women who refuse to enjoy his favorite foreplay.
"I wear this dress, with nothing underneath, it feel so good I almost cannot stand it. Like tickling all the time. I very ticklish. You do like that, it drive me crazy."
"You call that trouble? Sounds like a good way to spend an evening."
Steve placed his hand back on her thigh, a little higher this time, and started brushing with his fingertips as lightly as he could. Her flesh was soft and warm, and the feeling of the smooth nylon running across his fingertips brought back memories of many pleasant evenings.
This time she did not pull his hand away, instead sitting up and almost imperceptibly arching her back, pushing her firm, round tits out, her nipples making nice bumps through the thin black nylon. As she spoke her words sounded strained.
"Oh, you like tickle girls? Some girls no like, but I do. Ah. Oh, feels so good! You going make me all wet! Ah! Ah!"
By now her body was moving in little fidgety twists and turns, building in frequency as the seconds passed. He gradually let his fingers run farther up and down her thigh, coming down to circle her kneecap, then up to her hip.
He shifted from fingertips to nails, using a little more pressure.
"Ahh! Oh, you wicked! You torture me like this. Ahh! Ooooh!"
He looked around and noticed that the other two girls in the place were paying them no attention. He decided to run with this as long as he could. He reached out his other arm and grasped her around the waist, so that his hand came around and cupped her breast. He started to run his fingernails across her nipple, while keeping up the action on her thigh with the other hand. She squirmed harder, but he held her tight.
"Oh, oh! Aee, that tickles so much! Please! Oh! Aaaah! Please, we go in back, no bother anybody."
Steve couldn't believe his ears. She was referring to one of the three special party rooms in the back of the club. Two of them were done in Japanese style, complete with tatami mat floors and beautifully worked wooden pillars and carved panels. Each room was separated from the main room by sliding doors that were quite robust, so that a party could be isolated from the noise of the main room.
The privacy of those rooms allowed the club to throw some pretty wild parties for distinguished men. Judges, politicians, big name businessmen, the sort of clientele that normally had to shun a night of hostess bar carousing. Carol prided herself in allowing such men to partake of bawdy celebrations of human sexuality in all its varied forms.
Often Carol would arrange to bring in girls that did sex shows at some of the more wild clubs. There was nothing so unnerving to a man than to watch a young lady doing impossible stunts with her cunt, like shooting ping pong balls, playing a flute, or picking up lose change off of the floor inches from where they sat.
Then there were the S&M parties. Steve still didn't know how they were arranged, but somehow a small group of men could arrange to have two or three girls to act out S&M scenes with. One night, after a relaxing dinner and before sex, Carol had told him about some of the things they did.
Rule number one was that actual sexual contact was forbidden. Later she admitted that some of the regulars had arrangements with the girls, but that was off the record. First time customers had to sit and watch, but after that they were allowed to participate. This was very popular with Japanese tourists, and for them they relaxed the rules a bit.
The customers were asked what kinds of things they liked, and the girls would do their best to provide it. Lots of bondage, the girls trussed up with ropes in all sorts of poses. The heavy, exposed wooden framing was perfect for that. Carol had gone into great detail describing such scenes, pointing out the difference between open bondage, where the victim is tied up hanging by her wrists or spread-eagled, all her erogenous zones readily accessible and defenseless, and tight bondage, with the victim's arms tied behind her back and her legs tied together or drawn up into a ball.
She made a special point to describe the different ways that a rope could be pulled tight between the victim's legs, so that it pulled up into the lips of her vagina. Her favorite pose involved two women, standing face to face a few feet apart, each with their ankles tied to spreader bars of bamboo and their wrists tied together and pulled straight up over their heads. The rope from each woman's wrists ran up to a pulley hung from a heavy rafter, then down and between the legs of the other, then up behind her where it was tied to the rafter. With this arrangement, when one pulled down on her arms it pulled the rope tighter into the crotch of the other. The victims were either spanked or tickled to get them to jump around. Steve had gotten the impression that she really wanted to participate in that scene, but he wasn't sure which role she wanted to play.
Costumes were popular. School girl uniforms, cheer leaders, stewardesses, nurses. Sometimes they used expensive leather harnesses, with straps that could be pulled tight into the vagina or across the breasts.
Steve had been very turned on by her story, and since that first time never more than a week went by without Carol telling him a new one, always as a prelude to sex. She had also promised to get him into a party, but the times an opportunity had presented itself he had been busy with a gig.
Now, this sweet, lovely Asian doll wanted him to go with her into one of those rooms and play. Not just any game, his favorite. Nothing turned him on more than to tickle a girl to orgasm, unless of course she was wearing a slinky gown at the time. That was the best. He really regretted that Carol, who enjoyed as much as any woman could the touch of silky clothes, found full on tickling such a turn off.
"Sounds good to me!" he said, his voice not quite hiding his excitement.
His new playmate called out something to the others in what he thought was Korean, then pulled him, literally dragged him, to the best tatami room. She kicked off her shoes and placed them in a geta bako just outside the door, then helped him with his. As soon as he was inside she slid the door shut and slipped the locking pin into the frame. They were quite alone.
They sat facing each other on zabuton pillows on the floor, he sitting cross-legged and she on her legs with her feet poking out the side. He reached out to embrace her, and was surprised when she pulled him close and kissed him, long and hard. He responded in kind at once, deeply moved by her sudden display of affection, yet troubled in that it felt like the act of a young girl. As their tongues met he started to run his fingers along her sides and across the tops of her thighs, stroking the smooth nylon with his nails. She started to buck, and finally pulled her mouth away.
"Please, you do like that. A long time. I no have chance like this too often. Men I meet no like to take time to do for me."
Her words were music to his ears. He brought both hands around and started to tickle her belly, then slowly moved up until each was caressing one of her breasts.
"Ah, yes! Oh, it's good!"
Steve always got turned on tickling a woman's breasts this way. There was something about the feel and sheen of the fabric, and knowing how sensual it was to wear that made it much more erotic than just tickling her naked breasts.
"How does this feel? Do you like this?"
"Oh Steve, you driving me crazy! Its wonderful!"
He continued to tickle her tits, spreading his fingers and running them up to her nipples, then back down.
"Haah! Ahh!"
"Shall we take your dress off?"
"No, please, it feels so good! Let's stand. I want to feel it moving over my body."
They stood up, her head barely coming to his shoulders, the hem of her gown now touching the floor. He stood behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck as their bodies swayed gently, slow dancing to unheard music. He felt her relax, even give out a little sigh, and thought of all those kids at the proms he played at. Then he did what all the guys wanted to do but never had the nerve to out on the dance floor. He slid his hands up and started to play with her tits. He cupped them gently, one in each hand, squeezing them just a little. Then, the respite over, he released his grip and started running his nails softly underneath each one. Instantly her body stiffened, and she let out a little moan, but she did nothing to stop him.
They continued to play at this for a long time. He loved watching the way the slinky, shiny fabric fluttered over her legs as she bounced around. They worked together instinctively, moving her into different positions, so that he could concentrate on her ass, or the backs of her legs, or her breasts and ribs. As the minutes passed he could feel a kind of tension rising in her as she became more and more agitated.
Finally she broke away, gasping for air, and said, "Steve, I have special favor to ask. I don't know you very well, so please don't be offended. You not have to if you no like. You really know how to do what I like best. Better than any man I ever met. I cannot stand it anymore this way, but I like more. Please, can you tie me up? I never try it like that, but I thought about it for long time, and really want to now."
"Well, sure, if that's what you want, I'm willing give it a try," he said, adding to himself, "Well, that's at least half true." Then out loud, "What can we use?"
Even before he finished speaking she unzipped her dress and let it slide to the floor. She was completely naked, and stunning. Despite her petite size she had a very good figure, with firm, round, high breasts, the sort that stood up and said hello. What caught him off guard was her cunt, shaved clean. The slit of her bud vase ran cleanly between two pouting lips, soft and pink.
She turned quickly and went to the alcove. Out of nowhere a drawer slid open. Steve saw immediately that a series of drawers had been expertly set into the woodwork, invisible unless you knew just where to look.
She pulled out several hanks of rough manilla rope, and a small lacquer box, long and narrow. She pointed to one of the heavy, polished pillars and said "Here, please, like this."
She handed him the ropes, set down the box, and went and stood with her back to the pillar, her arms up over her head.
His hands trembled as he did his best to tie her to the post, remembering what he could of Carol's descriptions of what went on in that room. He started by tieing her wrists to the pillar, running the rope up and over the crossbeam above. Her pulled it tight, so that her body was taunt, her toes just touching the floor.
Next he wrapped a rope around her chest, passing it behind the post. He started just below her breasts, pulling it up into the soft fold underneath, then put a couple of coils across the top of her breasts, squeezing them tightly against the ropes underneath, making them bulge out even more. She grimaced and moaned, but her expression was more joy than agony.
He wasn't sure what to do next. He thought about arranging a rope to pull up between her legs, but if it was tickling she was after he wanted that spot left bare. He ended up tieing a rope from each ankle to the neighboring post, spreading her legs.
"The box. Open the box!"
He did, and was surprised to find a collection of feathers and brushes. There were all kinds of feathers, ranging from soft and fluffy to stiff and wiry. Mixed in with the feathers were several fude, Japanese writing brushes. It was just like his own collection.
She was looking at him expectantly. The sight of her, so helpless, completely at his mercy, was a super turn on. Knowing that she was so willing removed any feelings of doubt he might have had. Never, in all the times he had tickled the women he met at gigs or spanked Carol, never had it been like this.
He picked up an ostrich plume in one hand and a peacock feather in the other. He knew they were too soft to produce really strong sensations, but they looked great and would be good to start with, leaving the best for later. Her eyes seemed to widen a bit, as if in fear.
He started by running them up and down her sides and across her breasts, concentrating mostly on her armpits.
"Mmmm. Oh, yes! Oh, that feels so good!"
He kept at it, never letting up, never staying in one place too long. He knew that, like sex, good tickling needs time to build up a good head of steam, and she had lost a lot during the time it took to get her strung up.
"Oh Steve, please, please make it last a long time. Please, don't stop, do it like this, no matter what. No matter what I say. Ahh! Even if I beg you to stop, don't."
Now her body was starting to twitch, and her head was twisting and turning, as if she were trying to shoo away a fly that had landed on her nose.
He kept the ostrich plume dancing over the upper half of her body while dropping the peacock feather down, sliding it up and down the inside of her thighs. First, the left, then the right, always careful to keep it away from her cunt.
"Aaah, whooo, eeeee! Heeee!"
She started to laugh, a light, airy sound. He couldn't help thinking that it sounded so young, so fresh. Genuine, carefree, relaxed. He could tell beyond any doubt that she was enjoying this immensely.
He kept it up for several minutes, trying one place, then another, looking for the spots that got the most reaction. Then, having kept her in suspense long enough, he decided it was time to play with the center of her sexuality. He let the peacock feather slide up and over her cunt.
"Ahh, oh, that's so good! Yes, there, more there!"
He pressed the shaft of the feather down against her slit and ran it up and down, sometimes slowly, sometimes fast. The hundreds of little feather hairs swept over her lips, teasing them with their light touch. Her head fell back, and a torrent of laughter bounced around the room. He pressed on, and her laughter died away. He could see that she was getting very aroused.
After a minute more she hit a plateau. He decided that the soft plumes were not providing enough stimulation, so he quickly replaced them with a long pointed pheasant feather and a stiff, wiry one that he did not recognize.
These really set her off. He kept them both between her legs, running one up and down the inside of her thighs while stroking her cunt with the other. Sometimes he would run the edge of the feather lengthwise up and down her slit in a sawing motion, then he would poke at the opening with the tip. Gradually the feather was getting in deeper and deeper, and she bent her head down to watch, her expression transfixed with pleasure.
Finally, with one good push, he got the wiry one all the way inside. Her head rolled back and she moaned in ecstasy. As he drew it in and out like a bottle brush he started poking at the top of her slit with the pheasant plume, until it finally reached her clit.
"Ahhh! Oh, it's so good!"
Now her clit stuck out pink and hard. He kept flicking the feather over it, hoping that the sensation was not quite strong enough to let her come. He wanted to torture her this way, to keep her hanging on the edge of orgasm, not letting her come.
"More, please more. Ahhhh! It's so good. Let me come, please let me come!"
His idea seemed to be working. She quivered and shook, her face contorted, wracked with pleasure. He kept it up for quite a while, then forced himself to stop.