Chapter 2

I would have been happy suckling her more. But I needed to go down on her, too. It was time to earn her trust, and discover the mystery to her milky tits, and besides, I was eager to taste her pretty little pussy.

Her pussy was hot and wet. She had a bush trimmed like a lawn. A black triangle neatly covering her mound. I parted her lips with two fingers in a V to get to her clit. She clasped her hands against my head and pulled me into her. The sharp taste of her sex entered my mouth to mix with the rich taste of her milk left lingering on my tongue.

“Yes, Jen. Just like that, she moaned.”

It had been so long since I’ve had sex, but eating pussy wasn’t exactly rocket science. A gentle persistent pressure of tongue against clit accompanied by kisses, sucking on the labia, and a bit of penetrating of the vagina with the finger if the mood calls for it. Curl the finger to rub the tip against the g-spot. Keep licking. That’s all. Easy as pie.

“Oh yes!” Rika cried. I kept my rhythm in sync with the motions of her hip. The faster she moved, the faster I licked, the wetter her pussy became. Her muscles tightened around my finger, her clit grew plump like a ripe fruit, until,

Rika arched her back and convulsed as she exploded, making a mess on my face.

As pleased as I was of making her cum so hard, my only thought now was that I did as she asked, so now I get to find out the mystery of her induced lactation. I was eager to dive deeper into her depths.

After a few minutes of silent cuddling, we showered together and made out some more in the shower. Afterwards, we lay in bed clutching each other, staring into the blankness of my city light-illuminated ceiling, our hands languidly grazing each other’s skin. It was on the cusp of sleep that I remembered her milky tits.

“So, are you going to tell me now?”

“You still haven’t earned it. Not even close.”

“Didn’t I make you cum?”

“Yes, but like I said, that’s only the start. You still need to prove your worth. I still need to know I can trust you.”

“Prove my worth? You make it sound like I’m pledging into a sorority.”

She cocked her head. “Pledging into a what?”

“It’s a thing we do in college in the States. Never mind. What, pray tell, do I need to do to ‘prove my worth’?”

She gave me a crinkle-nosed smile. There was a fiery glee in her eyes that made me tense.

“Not sure you’d be up for it,” she said teasingly, her eyes wandering innocently to the ceiling.

“Of course, I am. What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t think you’re kinky enough to do what you need to do, is all I’m saying.”

That challenge piqued my interest. If there was anything that could get me going, it was a challenge. She might have been right, though. I’m pretty plain Jane when it comes to sex. I couldn’t think of anything I’ve done that was kinkier than a light spanking. And that was really pushing it for me. Her assertion that I wasn’t kinky enough made me somewhat frightened of the possible reasons for her lactating. But besides being frightened, I was also fascinated and turned on by it. I had never been with a lactating woman before. I was also offended that she’d have the gall to say I wasn’t kinky enough, which sounded a hell of a lot like I wasn’t good enough. Me? Not good enough? Hah, I beg to differ. I’m always good enough.

“I can be kinky,” I said.

“Oh really? What are your kinks?” She sounded skeptical. She called my bluff.

I swallowed nervously. My head rushed with possible answers to the question. Truthfully, I didn’t know. But I had to give an answer.

“Sexy underwear,” I blurted.

She snorted a laugh. “Sexy underwear?”

“Um yeah. That’s kinky… no?”

“Sure,” she said skeptically. “But you’ll have to get a lot kinkier than that if you want to know any of my dirty secrets.”

“Oh? Ok, I get what you mean by proving my worth, then. You’re going to give me a kink test.”

“I can see why Takahiro likes you. You’re very sharp. Yes, kink test. That’s a good word for it. I’ll give you a kink test. If you pass the test, then I’ll tell you everything you want to know about me.”

Tests I can do. Tests I’ve always been good at. SATs, GMATs, CPA licensing exams, whatever it was, I was always up for the challenge. No reason why I couldn’t pass this one with flying colors, either.

That voice in the back of my head sounded off with a warning. “Remember Jen, she’s your boss’s secretary,” said the voice. But right now, I was in the mindset to ignore the voice. I was already in her warm arms, and after being so long without touch, without bonding with anyone, in such a lonely city, I wanted, no, I needed to be with Rika.

“Tell me what I need to do,” I said.

“Are you really up for it?”

She pressed her breasts into mine. I could feel how full of milk they were. Her nipples grazed against mine. So torturously pleasant they were.

She read the desire in my eyes.

“You really liked my milk, didn’t you Jen?”

“To be honest, yeah. It tasted very good actually. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Soon, I will give you the test. Then, as a reward, I might let you have some more milk.”

Rika left in the morning after we enjoyed a light breakfast and coffee together on my sunny terrace. The whole of the following week, I didn’t talk to her except for work-related stuff. Certainly, I wouldn’t be the one to broach the subject of the ‘test’ at work. But neither, it seemed, would she.

After the height of unrestrained ecstasy of that night with her, we had settled back into the routine of professionalism like the Amish returning from their Rumspringa. The hot sex was nice, but we had a reality to pay heed to, so all the better that nothing came of our little pillow talk. Still I couldn’t stop fantasizing about the tests Rika might put me against. Fantasies fed my excitement. Fantasies invaded my thoughts, and I had to constantly fend them off while I worked. Even if there weren’t any tests, I still wanted Rika.

Her desk was stationed outside Takahiro’s office, on the opposite corner from mine. My office was a fishbowl. The glass partition was frosted above head level when I sat at my desk, offering privacy. But when I stood, I could spot Rika sitting at her desk, often working diligently. I took plenty of stretching breaks to catch a glimpse of her, wondering how often, if ever, she thought of me. But I never caught her glancing my way.

Every night, when I was alone, I was tempted to text her, ask her for a drink or dinner, or go dancing. But I didn’t give in to that temptation. I just couldn’t. I was a partner after all. And this was my dream job. I couldn’t let an illicit office fling ruin what I had worked so hard to get.

The second week after our night together, and only shortly after my interest in Rika had started the aching process of waning away, she started the ball rolling. And by ball, I mean giant boulder.

At 8 am, Monday morning, I emerged from the elevator with an Americano in hand. It was a gloomy day. Rika was already at her desk. She smiled as she greeted me like she always did to everyone who passed by. That smile did nothing to foreshadow what I would find when I arrived at my desk.

Resting atop my keyboard was an A4-sized manila envelope. It was addressed to me. The ‘From:’ line was blank.

It was one of the courier envelopes we used to deliver paperwork to each other, often when a document needed a signature. Nothing out of the ordinary, though it was strange not to see the sender’s name. Perhaps they had simply forgotten. It was bulky, so contained in it, not the usual paperwork but an object. I had never seen that before. Curiously, I unsealed the envelope and pulled out a thin black leather collar.

A note from within fell out into my desk. It was handwritten.

Dear Jen, what you have now in your possession is a collar, but not just any collar. It’s your very own. My gift to you. This is your first test: put it around your neck to become my pet. You can wear it in the office if you like, just remember to keep it concealed – a scarf works well in that regard. Fair warning though, if you wear it, you must do as I say, as I will be your mistress. If you do not do as I say, you will fail the test. Enjoy!

When the realization hit me, I nearly topple backward in my chair. I uttered a cry. I stuffed the collar quickly into the first place of available concealment I could find– my purse.

My heart was beating fast. Sweat collected on my brow. Heat prickled my cheeks. The collar was a fetish toy those people into BDSM like to use. How insane she was for putting that on my desk! What the hell was she thinking? What if I had opened that package with someone in my office? Like an associate or an intern?

I stood up and shot Rika an angry glare. She ignored me. Or pretended to ignore me. She was too far away for me to tell. So, I sat back down in an angry huff, shaking my head in disbelief. How could she send that to me at work?

My face turned as red as a tomato. I was about to toss the collar in the trash, but I stopped, realizing the risk. Imagine if one of my co-workers spotted the thing in my trash bin? How would I explain it?

A collar! Was she crazy? I did not expect this when she said she’d be testing me. But what was I expecting? By the strictest definition of the term, this was kinky, and she did in fact, promise to administer a kink test.

I was so flustered that I couldn’t focus the rest of the day at work. I gave a presentation to clients that afternoon. Takahiro pulled me aside afterward and asked me if I was doing ok. He told me I seemed a bit off. I told him I hadn’t had enough sleep last night. He apologized for the workload, and to make it up, invited me to dinner at his favorite sushi place. We talked shop, of course, but might as well. The things that I was constantly and frenetically thinking about were Rika and that collar. I wanted to shake him by the shoulders and scream, “Sato-san! Why the hell do you have that demoness as your secretary, dammit!?”

The poor man. He was well-meaning and a gentle soul. A traditionalist who thought he was being progressive by hiring the likes of Rika, the tattooed, pixie-haired, Bushido kink slut, as his secretary. Little did he know how progressive he truly was. Far more than I preferred.

I went straight home after dinner. Takahiro and I had shared a bottle of sweet sake over dinner, so I had a buzz going. But I wasn’t satisfied with the sake’s effect on the day’s frustration. So, I opened a bottle of wine, poured myself a glass, and drank. I realized then that my purse still contained the collar. The purse sat on my coffee table like Pandora’s box. I was petrified by it.

How could anyone find wearing a collar sexy? Why would I want to be a pet? How incredibly demeaning. I’m a partner, goddammit! Who does that woman think she is? I ought to toss that damn collar, then have a private chat with Rika about it. To nip whatever antics she had in mind in the bud.

I finished the glass and poured myself another. The buzz got stronger.

I recalled the night we shared. Such a lovely night. How incredibly delicious looking she was in her fancy cocktail dress that showed off her sumptuous breasts. Our wandering conversations. That kiss in the alley. The great sex. Why oh why couldn’t she have been more like what a Japanese secretary ought to be? Reticent. Obedient. Shy. Plain-Jane like me. It was that characteristic that I found most endearing about Japanese people. It was what attracted me to Japan in the first place. Rika was none of those things, apparently.

A collar for me? Hah! To be owned by her? Why did she ever think I would ever want that?

To be fair, though, she did ask to test me. It was an offer made in good faith. And I did accept. She wasn’t forcing it upon me or anything. She just wanted to have some fun in her quirky way.