The Adult Story Hub

The introductions went smoothly, although I forgot the names of the men in the room as soon as Sensei spoke them (my Japanese is non-existent).
The Caucasian woman's name was Clare. She was married to one of the male guests; a Japanese "businessman" type that I've seen a hundred times, but can never distinguish between. The boy's name was Akira. Fifteen or sixteen years old, he was introduced as the son of the one male Japanese who stood out more than any of the others; a large, somewhat overweight, pug-nosed man (I immediately named him Bulldog) who seemed polite enough, but his conversation was tinged with just enough irony to make you wonder whether you've been insulted or not. There was a disdain in his mannerism toward Peter and me that I began to bristle at. And it seemed his son had inherited his disposition, as well as his physique.
We were offered a very soft Chablis and, after a bit of small-talk, were invited to the dining room.
Charles sat across from me, with Peter on my left, and the young boy, Akira, on my right. Sitting for the first time since our ride here, I noticed the dildo again; the discomfort was dissipating, though, and it was beginning to feel almost like it "belonged" in my ass.
I had expected sushi or sashimi or something, but the dinner was continental haute cuisine, and was simply marvelous. Sensei's wife and, I assumed, his daughter, served the meal. The conversation centered on a political discussion of Japanese\American trade relations that was as esoteric as it was boring. Everyone spoke English, with an occasional and brief lapse into Japanese. We finished with warm saki in cute little cups that went down very smoothly (much TOO smoothly, I think).
My initial nervousness was gradually being replaced with a warm glow and, I noticed, Peter seemed equally relaxed and at ease. Charles spoke only rarely during dinner, and would smile enigmatically at me as our eyes locked.
After dinner, we retired to the "study." I noticed that Clare had disappeared. The french doors were closed by Sensei's wife, bowing as she left, and the men, including the young boy and myself, were all that remained. Peter and I sat on a small leather couch, part of a larger circle of chairs and couches occupied by the others. I hadn't noticed at first, but there were candles in very ornate candelabras burning at the outskirts of the room, and the lights had dimmed. The effect was to relax me even more than the saki had already, and I felt strangely giddy.
Several of the men lit up large, black (and very stinky!) cigars. There was quiet for a few moments. Sensei suddenly turned to look at Peter and me and, with a twinkle in his eye, began to speak.
"It is such an honor to have the two of you in my home. Charles has told me a little bit about you, but I would dearly love to hear more. Have you been married long?"
"We've been married about eight years," Peter said. "Quite happily, too."
"Very commendable! And you are so lucky to have each other. A handsome young man and a beautiful woman in love; very powerful karma. Many wonderful songs and poems have been written about people like yourselves," Sensei said, as he leaned forward. "I have been a student, for many years, of the idea of 'innocence.' It fascinates me and obsesses me. I yearn for it, long for it, but find that it vanishes like smoke when I reach out to grasp it. Much that I know about it I have learned from the literature of my country, and of the West. But the most profound lessons have come from real human beings, people such as you, Peter and Linda."
'Bulldog' cleared his throat. "Well, Takashi, that is all very well. For my part, the fascination comes as a consequence of the death of innocence. 'The worm in the heart of the rose,' so to speak, or from the deflowering and rape of Beauty. To use and then crush the sublime and fragile is a desecration of a fundamental taboo. And there is no greater pleasure or thrill than breaking such a taboo."
"Of course there are greater pleasures, my friend," Sensei replied. "For instance, think of the pleasure of protecting the weak, of sacrificing ones' fortune or body to preserve, all unknowing to that which is protected, innocence incarnate."
Bulldog grunted. "What pleasure is there in that? There is no pleasure in sacrifice except as investment in future pleasure. And I do not believe in the purity of 'sacrifice.' All sacrifice is selfish; you may sacrifice for the innocent, but only in the hope that the innocent will love you for it and that you may therefore possess the innocent. And if the innocent goes unaware of your sacrifice, there is still the selfish hope that the gods will have recognized it and put a gold star in your "good deeds" column. No, Takashi-san, believe me, your 'search' for innocence is no better than a dog chasing its own tail. And what will you do when you find it? Look at it and sigh, like a doddering old man sneaking a peek at a schoolgirl's panties? I know you better than that. That is not the way of the samurai. You will do what all men do, or at least what all men desire to do in their heart of hearts: you will take hold of it, mount it, and use it until the 'innocence' is squeezed like the sweet pulp from the core of a fig. Am I not correct, Charles?"
Charles glanced briefly at Sensei, whose eyebrows were slightly raised, then back at bulldog. A smile came to his lips.
"I choose the way of harmony," Charles said. "Just as there can be no hot without cold, there can be no innocence without corruption or, should I rather say, without wisdom. Therefore, we should rejoice in the balance thus maintained, and enjoy both as they are brought to us by fate."
Bulldog rolled his eyes. "Nicely done, but it begs the question."
"Of course it does. Why meet a steamroller head on when you can step to the side and let it pass? But I have a question for you. You should know, first of all, that this beautiful young couple, Peter and Linda, have been brought here to be used for your pleasure, or for the pleasure of anyone in this room. They are both young and, at least by the standards you are accustomed to in your country, quite innocent and 'fresh.'"
I felt myself blushing and noticed Peter shifting uncomfortably next to me. His hand reached out and took mine.
"May I ask your son, Akira, a personal question?" Charles asked.
"Of course," Bulldog said, shrugging.
"Akira-san, have you been intimate with a woman or a man before?" Peter asked the boy.
Akira looked down at his hands in his lap and briefly shook his head.
Peter looked back at Bulldog.
"My question to you is whether you would grant us all the opportunity to witness your son's emancipation from innocence or, to use your own words, to watch it 'squeezed like the pulp from the core of a fig?'"
Bulldog smiled sweetly (but with only barely concealed malice).
"I would be honored, Charles. And as I grant you this, I would ask a favor of you."
Charles looked quickly at Peter and I, as if debating something furiously in his mind. There was a brief moment of concern in his eyes, but he seemed to resolve the problem and looked back at Bulldog with a smile.
"Of course," Charles said, his voice sweet and smooth as silk, but with an undercurrent of warning. "Anything within my power."
"I would like to borrow this fine couple, exclusively, for a few hours after my son has finished with them. I find them quite refreshing and would be pleased to put them through a few paces."
"Yes. Yes, certainly," Charles said. "That would be acceptable. And it is so fortunate that it is you who have asked this of me," he continued, his eyes flashing like blue steel. "If it were anyone else, I would be concerned for their physical safety, that they might be permanently damaged in some way. There are those who do not value the possessions of others and dishonor themselves by returning them, tarnished, to their rightful owners. But I would be happy to have a man of your character, and trustworthiness, use Peter and Linda," he finished, with a slight bow of the head.
I could tell Bulldog was fully aware of the rebuke and implied warning, and he stared, eye to eye, at Charles for an uncomfortable few seconds. Both men's smiles were frozen like armor on their faces.
Suddenly, Sensei cleared his throat and I jumped, the tension in the room now palpable.
"That is very gracious of you both. I know that I would dearly love to witness your son's first time. It's kind of you to allow us to be present," Sensei said to Bulldog.
"And it is a sign of good breeding for a gentleman to be magnanimous with his possessions," he said to Charles. "Stinginess reflects a pinched and puny soul."
The tension ratcheted down a few notches. Bulldog looked at Peter and then at me with a smirk at the corner of his lips. I felt myself blushing and looked away. What I saw in his eyes scared me and made me shiver: his eyes were like mirrors. There was no depth to them, only a cold and unyielding surface. I also noticed his son, Akira, glancing furtively up at Peter and me, his eyes narrowed, then back down to his hands. There was something unnatural about the way they both looked at us... It went beyond "lascivious," into some spectrum or color of desire that I could only guess at. Once again, a shiver ran the length of my body, and I squeezed Peter's hand tightly.
And I was not at all convinced that Charles' little confrontation with Bulldog had made things any easier for Peter and me. Indeed, I sensed a determination in that ugly man to explore the limits of the ruthlessness I could sense seeping from every pore of his body. God help us both.
I turned to Peter and looked in his blue eyes. He smiled and gently brushed a curl of hair from my forehead. I calmed myself and mentally made the adjustment I knew I would have to make: I accepted my necessary compliance and obedience with something akin to a soft sigh deep in my soul; the body, I knew, would follow.
Had followed? As Charles motioned for Peter and I to stand, I noticed how terribly wet I already was...
Continued in Part 7...