Kuroki-san's Slave

I saw her first at a leather convention in San Francisco. She stood apart from everyone and talked with a couple other Mistresses and Masters. She had jet-black hair that was pinned up in a French Twist with long jeweled hair pins. She was slightly taller than me and had the air of a Domme. Her clothes were perfectly fitted to her stunning body and her beautiful almond-shaped eyes gave her a majestic look that set her apart from the rest of the crowd

“Who is that woman?” I asked my friend, Tracie.

She looked the way I was nodding and thought for a moment. “Her name is Yuriko Kuroki, I think…I hope I’m pronouncing it right. She’s from somewhere in New York.”

“This is a long ways from New York,” I observed. “There aren’t that many from out of this area. This is only a regional convention, not a big national one.”

“She’s talking with Master Russell. He’s from somewhere on the East Coast, too.” Master Russell was one of the ALA officers. A lot of the top officers from ALA were here. The American Leather Association was the big BDSM club in the nation.

“Is she an officer?” I asked.

“I don’t think so. She’s doing that Kinbaku demonstration tonight.”

My eyes must have been saucer-size. “I’ve heard of that, but only seen pictures.” Kinbaku was a form of Japanese bondage. I’d read about it and seen photos and videos, but I’d never seen it done live. I had noticed the description of the demo in the program and checked it off as one of the things I wanted to see.

“Are you going to it?” Tracie asked.

I nodded as I watched Mistress Yuriko and Master Russell laugh over something.

“If you want to be introduced to her, I can ask Flair,” Tracie said. Mistress Flair was her Mistress.

“No, no,” I declined the offer. “If it’s meant to be it will happen by itself.”

“Oh, come on, Mish. Are you scared of her?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know her well enough to be afraid of her.” We both laughed.

“I heard she’s looking for volunteers to help her tonight,” Tracie said. “I don’t know if she’s found any yet. Why don’t you ask?”

Hmm. That is an exciting idea. Learning about something by doing it is always more instructive than just watching it done. “Think I should?”

“Why not?”

And so, I approached Mistress Yuriko.

When she finished speaking with another Mistress, she turned to look at me.

“Yes?”

“Excuse me, Mistress Yuriko, but have you found enough volunteers for tonight?” I asked.

She smiled as she scanned my body. I studied her face…such a beautiful woman. It took my breath away to be this close. Her makeup was absolutely perfect.

“No, not the right ones yet. Are you volunteering?”

“Yes, ma’am, I am.”

“You’re not collared, are you?” she asked, eyeing my neck.

“No, I’m not. I’m currently free.”

She nodded thoughtfully.

“Come to my suite at six o’clock. I’ll choose my models then. I’m in 1207.”

“Thank you. I’ll be there.”

I went to a couple demonstrations and grabbed a bite to eat. This was an expensive event. I probably could have stayed at home and come here during the days. I lived across the city, but half the fun was meeting everyone and staying in this hotel so I could catch the late night and before-breakfast happenings. Besides, what else did I have to spend my money on? I was currently single and didn’t go out much.

* * * *

I’d seen a BDSM group in a Pride Parade about five years ago and went to several of their meetings. I’d met a lot of people and learned a lot about the leather lifestyle. I even went to some of their play-parties…just to observe. It felt exciting and when one of the Mistresses asked me to play, I gladly negotiated a scene. It had started wonderfully and I felt like I’d found the thing I’d been looking for all my life. She had flogged me and the feeling of the leather strands hitting my back was awesome. When she had stopped, I’d thought is that all?It ended much too soon. I wanted it to go on and on. I wanted someone to bring tears to my eyes. Perhaps I was looking for some catharsis in my life. I wasn’t sure from what.

I’d watched others at the parties. Everyone seemed to be getting what they wanted. Everyone but me. When I had discussed it with one of the Dommes a few weeks later, she’d told me that it was because I was a deep masochist and would have to find a top-level sadist to satisfy me. I’d have to be careful, though, because if a sadist didn’t observe or respect limits, I could be badly injured. I had looked around for a couple years, but never found the right person. I was beginning to think I should give up and go back to being vanilla, but that didn’t feel right either. The vanilla dykes I’d dated were all so boring in bed. I seldom came from their ministrations. There were even times I thought I should probably stop all this foolishness and become celibate. That would be the last resort.