Yayoi

With that, she began touching herself again. After a minute, her fingers sped up, as did her breathing, and again she pulled her hand away quickly, gasping slightly again. This time she was exhaling in between gasping, and saying, "shit, shit."

"Almost came again?" I asked, trying to stay calm, and let things unfold bit by bit, which is always contradictory to what I want, but exquisitely so.

"This is hard," Yayoi said. "What is it you like so much about watching me do this to myself?"

"You're the sex therapist. You must have a theory about that, don't you?"

Yayoi paused, needing a chance to consider her response. "Of course. But we'll talk about your diagnosis later. Do you want to explore other denial fantasies with me now?" she asked, trying to sound less breathless than she felt.

"That would depend on what makes you come," I replied. "But, um, having read your CV, I think I already have a handle on that."

Yayoi smiled, as I gave instructions. "You get on top of me. You control your movements, I lie here still. You fuck me as much as you can, but without coming, taking breaks only as needed to avoid orgasm."

"OK," replied my sex therapist, as she gingerly mounted me, sighed, and began moving slowly back and forth on top of me.

She started moving a bit more forcefully, and after a little while, stopped quickly, tensing her body, lifting herself up off of me slightly, and then stopping again, with my cock halfway out. It looked very much like the movement was too stimulating, as she was trying to get off of me. At least fifteen seconds went by before she breathed again. She sighed.

"I get too close," she said.

"There's no such thing as too close."

A somewhat dispirited look crossed Yayoi's face at that comment. I hoped I wasn't pushing her too much here. I wondered if she knew that we really didn't have to go here if she didn't want to.

Looking dutiful, but not smiling now, she moved back and forth more, with a slight urgency, until suddenly stopping once more. She held still, momentarily looking like she might cry, before she collected herself, cleared her throat, looked at me, and spoke.

"Was it a pleasurable experience for you to make me do that?" she asked.

She was still trying to understand. Or maybe just asking questions like a sex therapist might presumably do.

"Yes," I said. I don't know what it is. There is something very sexy about that kind of self-sacrifice. No idea why."

"I think this would be a good time to explore your attraction to pain," Yayoi said.

"This is a bit of a demanding job you've got, eh?" Seemed unlikely that real sex therapists are doing this sort of thing.

"Psht. You let me worry about that," she replied.

Then Yayoi moved her knees up in the air above my hips. She grabbed her knees with her hands, leaned forward, lifted herself up above me, and then came down hard and deep, wincing as she did.

"Does that hurt?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"What kind of pain?"

"Sharp, and crampy."

She lifted herself up and dropped down on me again. And again. Each time she landed, she winced, and looked like she needed to collect herself before putting herself through that once more. She lifted up and dropped again several more times, before she took a longer break. She was sweating, little glistening beads were covering her chest, face, shoulders, stomach. I ran my fingers up her stomach, around her breasts, on her shoulders, making patterns.

"I sweat when it hurts," she said. "I can't come either when it hurts. Does that turn you on?"

"Hm. Trying to sort these things out is hard. The pain definitely turns you on. Your inability to come that way isn't so much of a turn-on, though. If you can't come, you can't edge, right?"

"That might be true," Yayoi replied thoughtfully.

She exhaled for a long time, before asking, "is more pain more of a turn-on?"

"Hm. I guess it depends," I replied. "If it's so much pain that it makes you cry, that's too much."

"Some people like that sort of thing, you know," the sex therapist explained knowingly. "Humiliation has dedicated followers."

"Yeah, I just don't understand it."

"Interesting," she said. At which point she lifted herself up again and dropped, wincing. Without waiting as she had been doing before, she lifted herself up again and dropped, wincing more this time.

"How do people do this? Your dick is too big."

"Is that your professional assessment?" Without waiting for an reply, I thought I'd give an answer to her question. "How people do it is they keep on moving up and down, without stopping when they land. A bit like a bouncing ball."

"Fuck," she said, imagining what that might feel like.

"That's it exactly."

She smiled faintly, breathed deeply, lifted herself up, and dropped. She didn't bounce. But she lifted herself up quickly and dropped again. And again, and again. This was hard for her.

I didn't know if it would be more or less painful for her if I got more involved, but I did. I grabbed her hips tightly and took over, lifting her up and pulling her down, pushing deep, then lifting and pushing her down again and again.

Her face was rotating through several different expressions, generally some variation of surprise, shock, pain and pleasure. When I let her go, she collapsed on top of me. Her breathing was shallow, and she was shivering a bit.

"You OK?" I was a little concerned.

"I'm OK," she responded, in a way that didn't sound convincing, her face buried in my shoulder.

I rolled her over, so I was on top, staying close to her body, which was so good to be close to.

"Maybe now we can explore my desire for intimacy? There's that one, too," I suggested to my sex therapist.

"But you already get that from your wife," she responded, somewhat weakly, sounding a bit worn down.

"But I want it from you, too." I started moving slowly, gently, in and out, rubbing against her, while still holding her tight. "Can I?"

Yayoi's body seemed to be waking up. It felt like in this position I was recharging her batteries with each thrust, like I could feel the electricity between us. "Please," was all she said. Whether she was asking me to do it more because she liked it, or saying "please" in order to sound professional, I wasn't sure.

It felt like she had had enough of pain and denial, though she hadn't said that. I wanted to do something that would make her feel good, make her come. I could tell I was well on my way to making her have her first orgasm of the day.

"If you keep doing that, you're going to make me come," Yayoi said with certainty.

"Is that a problem?" I asked.

Yayoi didn't answer. She seemed suddenly lost in pleasure. I could feel the orgasm approaching, building, pushing on the walls, and then exploding with an intensity that can only come after all the edging she did earlier. And more so because she seemed distinctively new at the practice.

I slowed down after she came, enjoying the post-orgasm pulsating between her legs, and the limpness of her body. I could tell that she could just fall asleep any second at this point, but I kept moving, keeping her awake, and eventually stimulated, and then more stimulated, and then I brought her to the edge. Once her whole body was tense, I stopped.

She opened her eyes wide and looked at me. "Ah, you're awake," I observed.

"Um, yes," she replied. She seemed to be suppressing a whimper of some kind.

"It's almost like you didn't come a few minutes ago, eh?" I was into making these astute observations now.

"I don't need to come anymore," Yayoi said, her body rigid beneath me, a rubber band ready to snap, that was fully expecting to snap.

I fucked her more, steady, hard, as if I had never stopped, and within a minute she had another shuddering orgasm. I did, too. Yayoi took off her doctor's jacket and snuggled up to me all night long in our room in the sanitarium.

6. On the road

The next morning we got in the car.

"Where are we heading, my love?" I asked.

"Jutland. Aarhus."

The biggest city in the western land mass of Denmark, the Jutland peninsula, which extends north from Germany.

"Well, actually that's tomorrow. Today we'll stop at a hotel by the highway near the bridge."

The bridge that connects Fyn to Jutland.

"One of the hotels for truckers and such? I stayed in one of them around there once."

"I know," said Yayoi, smiling. "Yes, exactly."

"Yayoi," I said, "Question. Was last night a bit hard on you? It seems like a weird question coming from the guy who's the one responsible for, um, all that, but you know, we don't have to go to those places. I'm crazy about you either way, you know."

Yayoi was smiling, but when she spoke she did so with an air of authority. "My love. Just because I have a hard time with some things sometimes doesn't mean I'd want it any other way. I like challenges. And I invented these challenges. Yes, based on a lot of input from reading stuff you wrote, but still, it's mine. You're job is to give it to me." She paused. "If you like it...?"

I was too busy melting after that question, following that eloquent and beautiful statement of purpose and intent, to say much. Eventually I managed to squeak out a phrase. "A lot. I like it a lot."

"Good," said Yayoi firmly. "Any other questions?"

We moved on to discussing politics, the Danish countryside, and food. We stopped for some of that, and not too long after, we had reached our destination.

There were cars and trucks outside the hotel by the highway, in equal measure. Yayoi checked us in at the front desk, and we took luggage to our room. It was a small room with a twin-size bed in it, a chair, desk and lamp on a little table next to the bed.

Yayoi left me in the room for several minutes, and then returned. I noticed both the keys were sitting on the desk, as she knocked on the door. The most obvious difference, upon answering the door, that was immediately noticeable was that her outfit had changed to a brightly-colored miniskirt. She smiled demurely as she handed me a card. Escort.

"Someone sent me over here to meet you. My name's Heidi. Mind if I come in?"

I was still looking at the card, wondering how to act.

"Gosh, you're very lovely, but I had no idea."

"Is this a first?" she asked, helpfully, observing my confusion.

"Yes."

"Why don't you just pretend you're having a dream? If that sounds nice...? What would happen if this were a dream?" she asked.

What a question. I don't usually have sexual dreams. Mostly my dreams look like some weird slice of a political thriller action movie of some kind. Too much listening to BBC before going to sleep, when I'm on my own. But if I were to have a sexual dream, there are so many different ways it could go.

I pulled the chair out to face her and sat down in it. I looked at this woman standing in front of me, glowing with enthusiasm once again, shining with youthful loveliness, wearing the kind of bright, skimpy outfit that just cried out to be removed quickly.

"Maybe you'd walk up to me and say, 'do with me what you will,'" I suggested.

Without a second thought, Heidi-Yayoi walked to within inches of me and repeated that very phrase, but in a voice that reflected what sounded very much like authentic desire. "Do with me what you will."

I stayed seated, so that my face was directly in front of her breasts. I began to lift up her little articles of clothing, kissing and lightly biting her stomach, working my way up to her breasts. I cupped one in my hand and squeezed. It was soft but full, perfect. I began licking and sucking the other one, and caressing it with my tongue. After a while I heard her breath quickening slightly, and I moved on to the other breast, stimulating it in the same ways, until both her nipples were hard, and her breath was quicker still.

"Then you'd say, 'can I eat you, too?'"

Yayoi repeated the phrase in a far sweeter tone than mine. "Can I eat you, too?" As she said this, she knelt down in front of me in anticipation, as I unbuckled my belt. She immediately engorged her mouth with my cock, which got harder very quickly under her expert administration of the ancient art of fellatio.

I relaxed, letting her eat me for quite a while, knowing that she wouldn't stop until I stopped her, enjoying the endlessness of that luxurious feeling. I waited until I found myself exhaling deeply in order to make sure I wouldn't come all of a sudden and cut short our festivities prematurely, before informing her of the next dream sequence.

"Then you'd lie down on the bed and wait for me."

She pulled her mouth off of me, kissing the head of my cock before she stood up, walked the two steps to the bed, and lay down. I took off the rest of my clothing, and watched her chest rising and falling as she breathed, lying on her back, her head tilted in my direction, watching me watch her.

I took out a joint I had rolled earlier from its little case, and lit it. I took my time by the window, smoking the joint, holding it outside the window to avoid any hassles with the management for smoking in a nonsmoking room.

I walked towards her, got to the edge of the bed, and since my cock was near her mouth at that point, she propped herself up on one elbow and started eating me. As my cock was deep in her mouth, she looked up at me for approval.

"I like that particular kind of initiative," I said.

I let her eat me for quite a while again, before I spoke again. "Then you'd take off your miniskirt," I instructed.

She removed her mouth from my penis and dutifully took off her miniskirt. Now she was naked except for her leggings, and the item that now revealed itself, which had been hidden beneath the miniskirt - a locked metal chastity belt.

"Could this be part of your dream, too?" she asked, looking at me apologetically.

She knew it could. She had read about it. I pretended she didn't know that.

"What's this for?" I asked.

"My pussy is off-limits under my employment contract," Heidi explained.

"It's a no-intercourse contract, eh?"

"Yes," she said, looking even more apologetic.

"No touching your clit, either?"

She looked between her own legs and then looked back at me. "It's locked," she said, stating the obvious at this point.

"Hm," I said, trying to look ponderous. "I think this could be in my dream. In the dream, though, you would desperately want to remove the chastity belt. Do you have a vibrator?"

I knew she did. She got it from her bag and handed it to me with both hands, like an offering, as a Japanese person would do, especially if they were trying to demonstrate subservience.

I lay down on the bed so that my face was in front of Yayoi's chastity belt, and my cock was near her mouth. She eagerly pushed it deep into her mouth and began working her tongue around it gloriously, moving slowly in and out as she did.

As she ate me, I turned on the vibrator, and began circling one of her breasts with it, avoiding her nipple, until it began to get harder, even though I wasn't touching it. Then I started touching her nipple with the vibrator, causing the occasional moan to come from Yayoi's throat. I then moved on to her other nipple, giving it the same treatment.

Once both nipples were hard enough that the blood vessels were visible, I put the vibrator on her chastity belt. The metal vibrated quite a bit, and there were more moans. I ran the vibrator along her skin on either side of the chastity belt, tracing the belt in each area, and then repeating. Then back to her breasts, one at a time. Then tracing the belt again, to more, higher-pitched moaning.

"Do you wish you didn't have the belt on now?" I asked, knowing the answer.

Yayoi pulled herself off of my cock long enough to whisper, "yes, very much," before returning to her task.

I held the vibrator on her belt, listening to her moan in frustration as I came in her mouth. She eagerly swallowed each spurt, swallowing in rhythm with each one, and kept going until every last drop was out.

7. Film school

We each ate bread in the hotel lobby to tide us over til we arrived in Aarhus an hour later, where we ate a couple of classic Danish brunches, which are a sort of tapas mix of the various sorts of items that are popularly eaten in the morning by folks from northern Europe and North America. Usually including dark whole-grain bread and cheesy and meaty things to put on it, along with a little pile of one scrambled egg, one little pancake folded over with a little bit of syrup on it. Another of the Japanese-Danish cultural intersections - well-designed, high-quality, cute little things are common in both lands, in so many different arenas.

A filmmaker named Kirsten, who Yayoi met since she came to Denmark, was going to be meeting us for coffee afterward. A tall woman in her late thirties with a wild mass of red hair approached Yayoi and I in the espresso bar we had moved to. She greeted Yayoi and I with piercing blue eyes, framed by the kind of angular glasses people tend to wear in this part of the world.

"Welcome to Aarhus," she said.

Kirsten taught at the Danish Film Institute there in the country's second city. She and Yayoi talked about the documentary Kirsten was working on, about a local senior citizen who had once been a prominent member of the resistance during the Second World War. I tried to seem interested as Kirsten talked about the ins and outs of getting government grants and the complexities of licensing films for international distribution, and then Kirsten looked at her watch.

"I have to go to a class." She fished around in her bag. There was a jingling sound, and she removed a set of keys. She handed them to Yayoi. "Here you go. It's all set up. I'm very curious."

"It's a secret," Yayoi said. The plot was thickening.

"What secret?" I asked when Yayoi's friend had left the cafe.

"Well it won't be a secret to you, mister. You want more coffee before we go?" she asked.

We had another round, and talked about things other than the elephant in the living room for a while. Then we headed off toward Kirsten's editing room.

It was a studio apartment, but one that was actually being used as a studio. Yayoi said they mostly did editing in there, which was made fairly evident by the big-screen, fancy-looking new Macs and accompanying desks and chairs that took up half of the small room.

In the other section of the room, though, there were cameras. Three of them, all pointed at a couch.

"That's for doing a three-camera shoot of an interview or something?" I asked, trying to pretend I knew what I was talking about.

"That's one option," Yayoi said. "But the cameras move. And the couch folds out."

The couch folds out. These words started echoing in my head. I don't know why I wasn't expecting it by now, but somehow it was temporarily overwhelming, and I sat down on the couch, surrounded by the cameras, to catch my breath.

Yayoi sat down next to me and handed me a new card that read porn actor in training. She was smiling, but there was a question on her face, as if she were asking, is this good? I smiled back. I tried to sound authoritative, like I imagined a director might sound.

"So today I thought we could just get to know each other a bit, and I figured I'd have you do different things, figure out what sorts of things we might want to work on, what kinds of things you excel at, and so on," I explained. "Does that sound OK?"

"Yes."

It seemed she had forced her smile into a more attentive-looking expression, but the corners of her mouth were still slightly raised.

"We'll start with a strip tease, OK? I'll put a song on, and over the course of the song, you remove everything but your panties and your leggings," I instructed.