Chapter 30: slave jason

Jason was awakened when they landed in Tokyo. They stopped there to pick up some crates filled with "equipment." At least that's what Kaori called it. But soon they took off again for a short flight to Osaka International where another chauffeured limo awaited.

It was about a 75 minute ride to Kyoto, where Ayano lived in a mostly rural area just northeast of the city. Her house, or one of her houses, was built perched on a steep hillside that was overrun with pine trees. The sides of the weaving, stone-paved road that led to the edifice was charmingly speckled with cherry blossoms.

Ms. Kitayama preferred her Kyoto home to that in Tokyo, a more bustling city. But she did enjoy stalking her prey in Tokyo and having them delivered to the more tranquil city, where "The Maneater" could practice her perversions in relative peace.

Only 42 years old herself, Ayano married a man thirty years her senior. They say he died of a heart attack in bed, but the authorities aren't so sure.

Kaori led Jason into the middle of a small living area located in the rear of the house. He needn't worry about ever having to remember to remove his shoes since he hadn't worn any in months. He was told to kneel and the pretty young American-educated lady cuffed his hands behind him and tightened his ball gag one notch.

"Wait here for Ms. Kitayama. Don't move an inch," Kaori warned him as she disappeared.

Jason waited on his knees for literally 2 hours, yet there was no sign of Ayano or anybody else for that matter. He was stiff and wanted to lean back and rest his haunches but knew better. The twins put wild ideas into his head. The slave kept his back straight as a board the whole time.

Jason finally heard the patter of bare feet come up from behind. A small hand grabbed the hair on the back of his head.

"What's this? Kaori, come here!" Ayano shouted in Japanese.

Jason could still not see her as she stood behind him as his neck was jerked back.

"Yes madam?" her assistant answered, also in Japanese. They would hardly ever use English in front of Jason unless they needed a command followed. He only understood a few words here and there. Thismade him very nervous.

"Why didn't you shave his head? You know that I want every single body hair shaved off all of my slaves before I am introduced."

"I'm sorry madam but I thought you weren't coming back from town until 8pm. I thought I had time to go out for a bite to eat first," Kaori answered breathlessly.

"Do it NOW then."

Ayano let go of Jason's hair as a small clump of it fell to the floor. He grunted and his nostril's flared. His new temporary owner walked in front of him. Her reputation did nothing to diminish her beauty. Upon hearing about her, Jason imagined some ogre, not the sweet petite thing standing in front of him. Sure, she wore too much eye shadow. But Jason always preferred women with a more natural look. Still, she took his breath away as he noticed her flawless complexion, silky black hair tied back into ponytail by a red silk scarf, and red kimono. She smiled at him disarmingly, her white teeth a contrast to her scarlet lip gloss, and disappeared.

"Okay you," Kaori said in English. "Time to shave the livestock."

Jason figured that she was going to shave his two day growth of beard. But when he followed her into the bathroom and saw all the equipment laid out-electric clippers, scissors, razor, tweezers-he knew trouble was brewing.

Legs, feet, even toes: they all were shaved clean. Also depilated were his armpits, arms, hands, fingers, chest, back, stomach, and crotch. After shaving him bald, Kaori plucked out all his eyebrow hair. Jason was afraid to look in the mirror, but the young girl forced him. He looked like an alien, a freak, especially with Amanda's tattoos on his face and torso.

"A plucked chicken," Kaori called him in English.

He was pushed into the shower where she rinsed off all the clinging hair scraps. When Jason dried off, Kaori reapplied the belt on him as well as his wrist and ankle cuffs, and humbler. He followed her out to the same room where he first knelt for two hours. Ayano was there waiting for him in a big plush chair with her legs crossed as she smoked a purple cigarette. Her red kimono rode up a lean smooth thigh and Jason was impressed by her firm body. He would later learn that Ayano was a gymnast in the 1972 Munich Olympics. In fact, she met her future husband there. He was a tourist traveling with his first wife, a Scandinavian model.

Jason didn't notice it the first time, he was too preoccupied, but the centerpiece of the room was an enormous fishtank filled with a wide variety of exotic fish.

"Come here," Ayano said in English. She didn't call him "Jenny." That frightened him although he wasn't sure why.

She told him to kneel down by her side, tilt his head back and keep his mouth open. Ayano pulled out her newspaper and continued to smoke, using Jason's mouth as an ashtray.

"Swallow," she commanded and Jason complied. It wasn't that bad, he thought.

But it got worse. When she finished her little purple cigarette, Ayano warned Jason not to move. She then ground out the butt, extinguishing it on Jason's wet tongue. It hurt-a lot-but the slave kept his composure and even swallowed the butt on command.

Ayano finished her paper like nothing unusual happened. She then once again disappeared, this time for an hour, as Jason stayed put like a good little slave.

When she finally returned, her demeanor had changed. It may have been the walkman clipped to her waist and the headphones perched on her head, but something definitely put her in a different mood.

An icy chill ran down Jason's spine.