Nureki Chimuo Archive

Yesterday, I introduced a beautiful girl named Nagai Natsu. I held the rope, and under Director Kawamura’s direction, we filmed a video. I wanted to write about the filming while the excitement was still fresh, so I started writing with great enthusiasm. But by the time I got this far, I’d written thirty-four sheets of 400 character manuscript paper. I’m exhausted, to say the least. I collapsed on the bed and slept for an hour, then sat back down at my desk to start writing again. I absolutely must finish this today. My physical strength is nearing its limit, but my willpower is strong. However, Director Kawamura, I have never felt so keenly aware of the poverty of my own writing skills, descriptive abilities, powers of observation, memory, and expressive capabilities as I do now. I should have been able to describe and record the entire situation at yesterday’s documentary filming location more skillfully and accurately. I had that confidence. I have fifty years of experience as a writer. The result, as you can see, is a dismal failure. I was overwhelmed by the raw presence and power of the subject matter. I was overwhelmed by the sheer presence of that footage from yesterday’s documentary, “Nagai Natsu.” I feel I couldn’t even capture a tenth of the genuine, honest reactions of that moving young beauty experiencing pleasure. I, who am usually brimming with confidence, am admitting weakness. Her reactions to my rope, 10 times, no, 20 or even 30 times more delicate and vivid than anything in my writing, were exquisite. She showed not a shred of that typical “pleasure expression” you see in models or actresses, that blatantly AV-style, contrived performance (for enthusiasts, nothing is more unpleasant).

(After all, she’s still an amateur, so it’s only natural.) From start to finish, she let out the true cries of pleasure from her body, moaning and writing with her soul. Yet I cannot convey it in words now. It’s unbearably frustrating. I put down my pen and rested for a moment. But having written this far, I couldn’t stop now. I had to describe the scene of the “beautiful girl enema” (which was supposed to be the final scene) before this section could end. Director Kawamura. To be honest, I felt that yesterday’s documentary footage was already more than enough. I don’t think we need to shoot any more. Anything beyond that would be superfluous. When it finally came time to give her an enema, I was honestly fed up. Doing anything more felt like toying with her honest heart, and it all seemed pitiful. (It may be painful, but if someone says that doing it is what makes one a sadist, then that’s that. Perhaps I am just someone who lacks the true spirit of sadism, merely acting the part.) “What?! After all that bondage, tormenting, and hanging her upside down, you’re going to give her an enema too?!” I blurted out without thinking. Being selfish, I always speak my mind immediately. The director overheard it and said, “Yes, please. This is her first enema. I’m sure she’ll show us a completely new reaction of shame.” The kind, sincere Director Kawamura gave me an apologetic look and bowed his head deeply. I’ve made up my mind to do it. If I don’t, the day won’t end. I won’t be able to leave this studio. It must be night outside already. The typhoon was approaching, and the rain, which had been falling in heavy bursts at times, seemed to have stopped now. Even inside the sealed studio, you could sense the presence of the rain when it fell heavily and in large quantities. Let’s finish up quickly and head home before the typhoon hits. The preparations were complete. I tied her hands lightly in front. Using rope worn soft from frequent use, I bound only her wrists loosely in front. I made her raise her hips high. I felt there was no longer any need to show “bondage.” For true enema enthusiasts, the presence of “ropes” is actually more of a hindrance. Not limited to enemas, many practices labeled as “SM” are better off without bondage. Restraints actually dilute the focus, blurring the theme. Yet SM filmmakers unfamiliar with the genre insist on tying up models and actresses indiscriminately. These uninformed individuals

fail to realize that immobilizing a woman’s limbs through bondage halves the effect of this particular inclination. (Ah, I’ve written another unnecessary snide remark. It’s fine to just write it, but I can’t stand seeing it on set, so I end up saying it out loud and getting on people’s nerves.) I’ll just write the result first. This “enema” scene was a huge success, thanks to her genuinely intense expression of shame. No, it wasn’t just genuinely intense, it was genuine itself. Over the past fifty years, I’ve seen countless expressions of shame from models and actresses on sets like this, but so far Nagai Natsu’s expression was literally the best. (Ah, in moments like this, how wretched is my writing ability, capable only of expressing the most vulgar and tasteless word, “the best!”) Anyway, she was endearing. Painfully so, yet adorable. Trembling with shame, I turned to her and ordered her to look at the colorful mass of her excrement. (Was my mindset at that moment truly that of a sadist? No, that’s not it. I ordered her to perform the “cruel” act of “staring at her own excrement” precisely to draw out the painfully distorted expression of shame Director Kawamura was hoping for. In other words, it was to enhance the “quality” of the documentary footage.) She turned around like a dog, completely naked, on all-fours, as I had ordered, and gazed at it, which had just emerged from her anus, with a face that looked like it might cry at any moment. And then her expression became even more painful, pitiful, drenched in shame. Seeing this I thought, “This scene needed an enema!” I was deeply moved. Thank you, Director Kawamura. After the shoot ended, she entered the shower room and began washing herself. I handed one of my ropes to the hair and makeup girl, and said, “Give this to her.” It was the same rope I’d used in the masturbation scene. And then, without seeing her or saying goodbye, I left the studio. It wasn’t raining, but a humid, sticky wind was blowing.

That’s all for today’s shoot report. I’m exhausted. Somehow, I feel terribly tired. Writing this is more draining than actually tying up and suspending girls on set. Being on set keeps you moving around, so it’s less tiring. It’s actually good exercise. I ended up writing nearly fifty pages just about the shoot for “Nagai Natsu.” Writing nearly fifty pages in one go tired out my arms and wrists, but my mind is also tired too. I think I’ll take a little break from the “Talking Theater.” Starting tomorrow, I’ll begin rehearsals for another play. It’s titled “Evening Walk.” Every evening, Golden Bat comes to pick up the 98-year old man, takes his hand, and they fly through the sky together for an evening walk. It’s a fantastical play, yet there’s not a hint of SM anywhere. It’s a short play I wrote and will perform myself. Starting tomorrow, I’ll begin rehearsals. The truth is, the day of the play is drawing near. The members of this theater troupe have no idea that the day before yesterday, I stripped a 19-year old girl naked, thrust a thick glass enema into her anus, and injected a litre of enema fluid into her. No one in this theater troupe would believe that the man who dresses up as a 98-year-old senile man and puts on a show flying through the sky with Golden Bat is the same man who strips beautiful young women naked, shoves his fingers in their ass, and forces them to defecate. That’s why life is fun. Theater is interesting. Once this senile old man’s act is over, I’ll immediately take on the role of a pure-hearted old man who spent his entire life loving only his wife. This too is a play I wrote. In other words, it’s a one man show. I’m always putting on a show, everywhere I go.