Chapter 5

I would have passed the test if I had just put it in and worn it for a few hours. That would have been the final test. I would have proven my worth, then she would’ve told me her dirty secrets. She would have let me have more of her milk. And now, because I wouldn’t put a simple toy up my butt, her milk was beyond the realm of possibility. But why was it even remotely worth it? What was wrong with me?

My crazy imagination swirled, made more lucid by the effervescent glow of the Tokyo night cast into my room. My penthouse was on a very high floor, and my windows were double-paned, so the city sounds were nothing more than a humming silence. Nothing could distract me from my fantasies.

What would have happened if I had done as Rika asked? She’d have to verify that I had it in. Maybe she’d bend me over my chair, pull my skirt down to see the proof that I had obeyed her — to see that foxtail sprouting from between my ass cheeks, then, after seeing that I had done everything she had asked of me, she would reward me. Her tasty milk. That would have been the reward.

I groaned loudly. Ugh, why was I thinking that? Such a weird thought to have. Sickening even.

(Then why did I find it so hot?)

My pussy was on fire. It ached so badly. I needed relief.

I reached over into my nightstand cabinet and found my trusty rabbit. I clicked it on. It came alive with a low buzz. I held it to my wet, throbbing clit. I couldn’t help but imagine having the butt plug inside me. I couldn’t help but imagine Rika tugging on the foxtail while she fingered me. The butt plug would painfully resist. She’d tug hard, but my asshole would be too tight. It would stay inside.

Rika just wanted to push me to my limits. She wanted to guide me there, to be my teacher. To be my mistress. I’ve done so well up to that point. Wasn’t it worth giving it a try? It wouldn’t be too bad to try, at least, would it? Just to see? Who knows, maybe I’d enjoy it.

The watery glow of Tokyo began to pulse with the heightened rhythm of my heartbeat.

I came hard. It was messy, so I used a damp towel to dry it off. I needed a shower to wash off my sex, but I was too tired, so I dozed off instead. My last thoughts before sleep were of Rika and how I missed how the collar felt around my neck already, which was such a wrong thing to think, but I couldn’t help but think it anyways. If she’d ask me again tomorrow to put that foxtail in, I just might do it.

When I woke up the following morning, the collar immediately sprang to mind, like it was nautural to think about it, as much as breathing was. I felt a strong urge to strap it around my neck, but I resisted the temptation. My mind was clear, and it was made up. There was no way I should ever compromise my career like I did yesterday again. Prudently, I left the collar at home.

Rika was, as usual, already sitting at her desk. She greeted me like she always did, and I greeted her like everything that had transpired yesterday had been wiped from my memory.

I went to my regular meetings. Phoned my clients. Took one client for lunch to an udon place with a Michelin star. It was nice. I went for another long run that evening to wind down. To my great relief, I had a normal, productive day at work. But as soon as I got back into the privacy of my own home and the quietude of my loneliness, my stable world began to shake at the foundation again. Those thoughts crept back into my mind.

The collar. I never got rid of it. It was still in my purse. I needed to throw it away. But I also needed to put it on. Just to see how cute I looked with it on. Just to feel its constricting form against my skin. Maybe I’d just put it on once as a ceremonial goodbye. Then in the trash, it goes.

Soon, I found myself standing in front of the mirror with the collar and nothing else. I looked so goddamn sexy. I had to pleasure myself. So, I did. In front of the mirror, with my back against the bathroom wall. I came so quickly. When I removed the collar, it left behind a reddened indented band on my skin.

The following day was another productive workday. I successfully left the collar at home and never once thought of it or Rika the whole day. Yay me.

I went for a long run again when I finished work. Another 10K. The temperature had dropped, so I could see the puffs of condensation as I breathed. I loved the wet, freshness of the autumn air. I loved the sweet earthy smell of the fallen leaves on the sidewalk.

Like the previous night, I thought of the collar again when I got home after the run. I tried my damndest to resist putting it on. It wasn’t good for me. I tried watching a show on Netflix to drown the temptation out, but I couldn’t. I just had to put it on. It had that magical hold on me. I was a prisoner to it.

I put the collar on and pleasured myself again. Like before, the orgasm was wonderfully intense. I fell asleep with the collar on in front of the TV, binge-watching a series I didn’t really like.

The yearning to be Rika’s pet grew stronger with every passing day. It became a routine for me to refuse the collar every morning but then put it on in the evening. As troubling as it was, I glumly accepted my need to put the collar on. I reasoned that it was harmless if I was doing it in the privacy of my own home. As long as nothing else happens, as long as Rika stays Takahiro’s secretary and nothing more to me, why couldn’t I have my secret fantasy? Yet every time I put the collar on, I felt the pull of an invisible leash. I knew Rika was at the other end of that leash, pulling relentlessly, and I was growing too damn exhausted to resist.

Two weeks went by. Two weeks was what it took before I broke. Two weeks and I was desperate. It was the loneliness that did me in.

It was a Friday night. After a business dinner, I took my clients to one of my favorite izakaya bars. The bar was near Rika’s house. I had a few too many cocktails.

After my clients had gone, I waited for my taxi beneath the glow of a misty lamp light just outside the izakaya. It was cold. My coat was a little too light for this weather. It was quiet, too, the muffled chatter from within the bar like the gentle ruminations of a public radio talk show. The sounds of the nearby expressway droned like an ocean, coaxing out kinky thoughts in my mind.

I wanted to see her badly. I wanted to be near her. I knew these thoughts were bad to have. I knew they were unhealthy. But I was drunk, lonely, and horny, so to fight against them now, I might as well try swimming up a waterfall.

I took my phone out. I texted her and sent the text without a second guess. “I want to see you again.”

I put my phone away. But as soon as I had, my phone buzzed. My heart skipped a beat. It was Friday night, so I didn’t expect her to respond. I figured she’d have other plans and wouldn’t want to hang out with boring, kinkless Williams-san. With bated breath, I pulled my phone out to read the text.

“Come over to my place tonight. Bring your collar if you like.”

Then she texted her home address.

Nice of her to give me the option, but the collar was already in my purse.

“On my way,” I texted back.

Rika lived in Shibuya. When my taxi came, I directed the driver there. I was surprised to find a large townhouse at the address rather than a dense apartment complex, as people her age tended to live in. This house, at least what I could see peeking over the tall granite wall and the manicured Japanese pines in the front, was an elegant, modern take on a traditional Japanese townhouse. It was one of those homes that might be featured in an architecture digest magazine. I double-checked the address. Sure enough, it was the right place. Maybe she really was a Yakuza queen. Maybe the secretary thing was a cover. There was a lot about Rika that I did not know, and now I wasn’t sure I was ready to find out. I was nervous.

I rang the bell with a trembling finger. The gate swung open. On the other side was an immaculately manicured rock garden, sparsely populated with small, twisted pine trees, purple- and red-leaved lace maples, and little stands of bamboo. Little pagoda lanterns glowing amber illuminated a winding path to the opened front door.

A silhouette stood at the entrance to the house with the unmistakable shape of Rika.

I gave a shy wave. Rika bowed and then turned to walk into her home. She wore a red floral-patterned kimono and traditional white tabi socks. This was going to be a whole thing, it seemed.

I walked the winding lantern-lit path and up the wooden stairs to her house. Each slow step I took up the stairs was a soft creak, echoing the anxiousness in my body.

My eyes went wide as I entered her home. “Oh my God,” I breathed.

I’ve stayed at the Four Seasons in Tokyo a few times. The design of her apartment, from the gleaming polished wood floor to the floral arrangements on the ebony cabinet countertops, to the red pine exposed beams across the ceiling, and the rice wall doors was as immaculately and tastefully considered as any five-star spa resort in Japan.

Rika sat, watching me quietly in a tatami-matted tearoom at the far end of the living room. A tea set sat in front of her.

“Welcome, Jen. Please come in.”

“Rika, you live here?”

She gave a polite laugh and nodded.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It is my family home. My father is an architect, and my mother is a designer,” she explained. “They’re retired to Sapporo now, so I have this little place to myself. Come have tea with me.”

It was a good cover story. It might have been true, but I wasn’t convinced it was the whole story.

I took my shoes off in the entranceway, walked tenderly across the living room, and sat across from her. Besides the tea set, an iron pot sat inside a square recess between us, simmering over crackling embers. I was still so enchanted by the house that I had hardly looked at her since I arrived. I looked at her now, and the enchantment grew. She was beautiful. Her eyes were a wonderful latte brown in the soft light. Her lips were thin and sharp. Her kimono hung loosely on her shoulders, so I could see the delicate naked curve of her kissable neckline. I wanted her now. But I stayed patient. If I let her guide me, then surely, I won’t be disappointed.

“Green tea?” she asked.

“It’s matcha. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I love matcha.”

In front of her was a small clay bowl containing the already prepared bright green powder of the matcha. She scooped out the powder with a long, thin bamboo spoon into a tea bowl, then ladled simmering water from the iron pot between us into the same bowl. She whisked the matcha vigorously to aerate the tea before handing me the bowl.

“I wanted us to have tea before we started, Jen, so you are comfortable. I know what I had asked you to do so far was not easy, and frankly, I was very surprised that you went as far as you did. I hope you know I don’t want it to be stressful. I want you to enjoy your time with me.”

The matcha was earthy, rich, and soothing. I sighed as I sipped it.

“I do enjoy being with you, Rika. And to be perfectly honest, as crazy as it sounds to hear it from myself, I enjoyed the tests.”

I laughed incredulously. My face went red. “I enjoyed discovering how kinky I can be.”

Rika smiled. “It’s more than just sexy underwear.”

“Yeah,” I murmured. “But maybe I’m not quite kinky enough for a butt plug.”

Rika giggled. “We all have our limits. But limits are fluid. They can change.”

Rika nodded. She sipped her tea.

A silence fell between us. We stared into each other’s eyes. My smile grew. My cheeks blushed harder. I was just so happy to be here with her. I was happy if there was nothing else than drinking tea with her. But I was hungry and hopeful there was more in store for me. For us.