In the little urban park in the West Shinjuku district, there are no more than three or four benches, a brightly painted swing for children, a few trees, some of which are hidden by thick bushes. A little concrete building hosts a public toilet.
In the crisp, cool air of a spring early morning -- the sun has yet to rise -- a young woman, more than twenty, not yet thirty, enters the park, walking with nonchalant grace.
She wears a dark blue raincoat with a large blue belt, made of the same fabric of the coat, blue high heel shoes, and carries a large, rigid suitcase made in black leather.
She is petite. Long black hair, parted in the middle, arrives below her shoulders, her small but fleshy mouth shines of a glossy light pink lipstick, curved in an imperceptible smile. Her large, almond-shaped black eyes look ahead, with self-assured calmness. She sits on a bench, the legs slightly parted. The rim of the coast arrives just a little below her knees, leaving visible the curve of her well-shaped calves.
The little park is deserted. It is one of those neighborhoods in central Tokyo that do not seem to belong to the largest city in the world.
She looks like she is relaxing after having enjoyed a morning walk, just before leaving for work, probably for one of the large corporations typical of the Japanese business landscape.
A few minutes later a man arrives, walking briskly. He wears jeans, a white T-shirt and a black leather jacket. He is much older than her, surely beyond forty, maybe already fifty. However, he has none of the worn-out expressions and mannerisms of the middle-aged white collars that live in the city. He is still fit, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth worn like a badge of honor; they make him more attractive, rich of manly experience.
They exchange a brief greeting, the girl smiles a little more; the man looks at her concentrated as if he is weighing some possibilities. He opens the suitcase and extracts a coil of steel wire, a plier, and a smaller leather box, which could contain a musical instrument, such as a flute or an oboe. The man walks around the bench and places himself behind the girl. He quickly cuts two pieces of wires. He takes from behind one of the wrists of the girl, and pushes it against the rails of the bench, widely detaching it from the rest of the body. Then he secures it to the rails through the wire, twisting repeatedly the extremities, until it is impossible for her to free herself, or even to move it. He repeats the same procedure with the other wrist, and then he checks that the wire does not eat too deeply into the flesh, such that the blood is still free to flow to the tips of the fingers.
He walks in front of the girl. She looks at him, and she seems to be testing the bonds that tie her to the bench. Of course her attempts to free herself are futile. He looks at her wrists. From this point of view, they seem nothing else than thin, shiny, silver bracelets. Silently, he goes on working, as if she is an inanimate object. Carefully he pulls a little the coat's sleeves, to cover the wires: nobody can guess, without a careful inspection, that she is not free. Then he unbuttons the coat. Even if she guessed that this was going to happen, still she is blushing furiously. She is thinking that she is naked under the coat and she is now helpless for him to do as he pleases.
But he does not touch her naked flesh, just unbuttons the coat and leaves it closed through the firmly secured belt. Finally, he parts the lower sides of it, such that the inner part of her white thighs becomes visible, yet he does not open it so much that the eye of a casual passerby might catch a glimpse of the point where the thighs meet and the black hair of her pubis grows.
However, she is immediately aware that the equilibrium by which the coat covers her is precarious: a little distraction, a careless movement, and the slides could slip and she could become on display for anybody to see, her tied hands unable to protect her.
He gets the suitcase and places it on the ground in between her feet. It will be impossible now, if she ever wants, to close the legs. She will have to endure, for as long as he will decide, to be accessible and vulnerable.
Holding the smaller suitcase he walks a little farther to look at her. Her face is still pink of shame; however, to the passerby, she still might look like any other girl, resting on the bench, maybe unwilling to stand up and face the day that starts, maybe a little careless in the way she is sitting.
He doesn't say anything; if he is satisfied by his job and by her docility he doesn't betray it. He just says: "Look at me." She is happy to comply, raises her eyes, and looks at him, smiling. He just says: "I have to piss."
She did hope not to be left alone, but she knows that she can't object. She sees him disappearing and remains there, feeling the rays of the sun that slowly rises.
In the next minutes nothing happens. The park remains deserted; she is left with her thoughts. Very simple thoughts: she is contemplating the idea of trying again to test her restraints and her possible degrees of freedom. But she is afraid that whatever would happen could remain irreversible until he comes back. So she chooses to stay as still as possible, waiting patiently for his return. At a certain point she becomes aware of how her torso is stretched, her breasts pushed against the coat and feels her little, pointy nipples brushing against the slightly rough fabric. For a moment she loses control of her breath -- she is not sure of what is happening -- but quickly she regains her composure and calms down.
She returns to be aware of the silence around her, then suddenly she hears the noise of steps approaching, first very faint, then closer. Together with regular, rhythmical steps, she can hear the sound of more irregular movements, shaking the gravel of the park's foot walk.
Shame and fear mix in her head, she would like to scream, but she knows that it would be an irrational, unjustified reaction, what's more, utterly silly.
If she shouts, she likes to think he will understand that she is in serious danger and will come to rescue her. But then their relationship, whatever the reason for it to be, would end and she would never know where it could have taken her.
Remaining cool proves to be the right choice. It is only a little dog, running aimlessly up and down. A few moments later his owner comes. It is a woman only a few years older than her.
Probably every morning she takes her pet for a little walk before going to work.
The dog, a furry little spaniel, white and brown, continues searching for something, then he looks up to her owner and then, reassured, continues exploring the surroundings.
The lady, elegant and perfectly groomed, hardly pays attention to him. She is absorbed by her mobile phone, which she checks continuously, typing quickly from time to time emails or messages.
The dog passes in front of the girl, without noticing her...but then stops, returns on his steps and stands just in front of her, looking at her curiously, with the head slightly tilted.
She looks at him, trying to read his mind, trying to send the most reassuring message, hoping that he will continue his walk and forget about her.
But, maybe challenged by her look, sensing something wrong, he starts barking furiously.
The girl gets anxious: there is no reason to be afraid of this little dog; the owner is there ready to take charge if anything shall happen. Still, she starts imagining things, she imagines that he might try to assault her, that he might scratch her thighs with his paws.
Distracted by the idea of this threat, she has a small, imperceptible movement, an automatic reaction to protect herself.
It is already late when she realizes that the coat has opened a little more between the legs, and looking down she can see that she has uncovered a large portion of the dark hair on her pubis, for anybody to see.
She tries to close her legs, but the suitcase blocks any useful movement, actually the simple trial achieves the unwanted result to help the coat slip further down her thighs.
In the meanwhile the dog keeps looking and barking until he achieves the result of distracting her owner from her phone.
She comes, half hurrying, half annoyed" What is it?" then she sees her and adds:" Excuse me, he is adorable, but he is a little..." here she stops, because she has finally taken a good look at her and she understands that what has called her dog's attention is a half-naked girl, dressed only in a blue raincoat, showing casually her private parts.
Now she thinks that her dog's reactions are more than right, his surprise, expressed by his barking, quite natural.
The two women look at each other, the bond girl cannot help blushing and hopes in a little sympathy, even if it is too complicated to explain what got her in this predicament, still she hopes that the dog owner will understand her, help to readjust the coat and leave.
The dog owner gets closer to her dog and put the leash on him. Then, leading the dog, come close to inspect her.
"It is a beautiful morning."
"Yes it is"., replies the bond girl.
"Do you live around here?"
"Not really.."
"Otherwise I should have noticed you before, I guess..." comments the dog owner, smiling.
"It seems that I am not the only one to take out my pet in the morning...where is your owner?"
She understands now that the lady will not help her: she is enjoying her humiliation.
"I am nobody's pet and I have no owner..." she replies, indignant.
"Of course...then you are alone...but you are perfectly fine, right?"
"I am." She says, hoping that by now she has satisfied her curiosity and will leave her alone. But this woman seems ready to play a larger role in this story, and she is not ready to go so easily. She gets closer; the dog is silent now, stares at the girl with his large, humid eyes The woman now gets so close that she stands now in between her parted legs.
"I don't know why you are so shy," the woman says suddenly, opening the coat wide with both hands, uncovering her breasts, her belly and the carefully trimmed hair of her sex.
Now the blue belt is just a marker sign, separating the upper and the lower part of her body.
"Maybe you needed help ... or maybe you are ashamed of your little boobs and tiny" she adds, maliciously, pinching the dark nipples with the tip of her fingers.
It is a small but sharp pain, she is used to enduring much more. The woman releases her grip and of course the nipples remain standing, caressed by the light breeze that keeps them awake.
"Open your pussy for me, I need to see." The woman says. "Only another woman can truly look and appreciate the fine details and differences, the beauty of it " she adds.
The girl looks at her, suddenly unsure if she will meet the stranger's expectations. It's clear that she is a woman different from her, used to give orders, to say no. She speaks in a way that makes her eager to please.
She starts to open her legs, slowly. The woman just looks and says: " Yes...a little more..." She can feel her body opening, she can feel rivulets of air insinuating in her lower little mouth. She wonders if the woman will like her and will be satisfied.
