Nureki Chimuo Archive

It’s already been over a month since I wrote the previous “The Silent Firefly…” for this “Talking Theater” series. Recently, I’ve been getting constant reminders from my manager, R-san. To begin with, it’s R-san who encouraged me to write the “Talking Theater,” typed up all my handwritten manuscripts, and handled all the seemingly troublesome and complicated procedures for publishing it on some computer page or another. (I know I keep repeating myself, but I’m completely clueless about this kind of electronic equipment, so I leave it entirely up to her. I don’t even own a cell phone.) If I slack off even a little in writing, the reminders from R-san are relentless. (Thanks to that, I’ve written a whopping six hundred manuscript pages up to the last time.) I find it easier to just space out and not write than to actually write, so naturally, as someone who dislikes putting in serious effort, I tend to be lazy. No, no, I wasn’t being lazy. This past month, I’ve been swamped with other things and simply couldn’t find the time to write the “Talking Theater.” A persistent, troublesome, and unpleasant request from a certain TV station; an equally unpleasant request from the film production company I worked with, stemming from their ignorance and lack of understanding about “SM”; and then filming of so-called “SM videos” (I was hired as the bondage specialist as usual, and since I get paid well, I can tolerate it to a certain extent, but this time their ignorance was particularly egregious. For me, it was a

particularly unpleasant shoot, one that left a bitter aftertaste. On the train home, I felt like crying alone). Furthermore, there were many instances where the staff members were all under some kind of misconception, such as taking “SM Photos.” My steps were heavy on the way home that time too. Since I don’t drink alcohol, I can’t drown my sorrows in a drink. So this “Talking Theater,” it wasn’t that I didn’t want to write it, but that I couldn’t. If the shoot was that much of an ordeal, you might think, “Why bother going even if asked?” But I’m poor, so I want money too, and besides, I have a pretty strong urge to document this current “SM situation.” Whether I like it or not, I have this compulsion to write it down. It’s like a karmic burden for us writers. That is my explanation. (No, I guess making excuses is no good after all. Excuses are for cowards.) Long ago, I wrote a serialized novel titled “The Birth of Yellow Orami” under the pen name Maki Fujio for the magazine “Kitan Club.” I became too busy to keep writing and apologized in the magazine for discontinuing the serialization. At that time, also in the magazine, Shozo Numa-san said to me, “Everyone gets busy, Maki-san. Please keep writing.” These words pierced my heart like a dagger, even though I was still in my twenties. R-san doesn’t say everyone’s equally busy, but she gently and indirectly urges, “Your readers are waiting,” with a kind smile. (Well, even so, it still stings, so it’s all the same in the end.) R-san knows exactly how to get me to write. “We received this message from N City. Please read it.” She went out of her way to retype it on the word processor, print it out, and then fax it to my office. R-san spares no effort in these painstaking, meticulous tasks, handling them sincerely and accurately. I can’t hold a candle to her.

I read the letter from N city. I felt like writing a reply. I felt I had to write one. I also felt motivated to write a “Talking Theater.” That is this piece, this very writing. First, I will transcribe the letter from E-san in N city here. I will omit the introductory and closing greetings and present only the main points of her message. Nice to meet you (Name omitted) It has been forty years since I first encountered the beauty of bondage. For decades, I have looked up to Nureki-san as my spiritual mentor. That said, I’m still a man, not yet fifty. I am one who deeply loves SM. No, bondage. I’ve always loved each and every one of Nureki-san’s restraints, and the very process of applying them, and that love has carried me to this day. I’ve probably seen most of the videos you’re involved in, including those from Fuji Planning. The same goes for the photos. Since 2002, I have been leading a group called the N City Bondage Research Society (N-Kin Ken) in N City, holding monthly bondage photography sessions. We have consistently held amateur female model auditions without fail. I hate professionals. I absolutely despise the mannerisms, expressions, and acting they employ, especially when it comes to bondage. I believe the true essence of bondage emerges precisely in the awkward expressions and movements of amateurs. My self-taught bondage is rather crude and I’m deeply ashamed of it. It is one of my wishes to meet you someday. I want to meet you more than any actress, more than any celebrity.

Seeing how well Nureki Chimuo is doing in his “Talking Theater” gives me encouragement too. Please take good care of yourself, and I hope you’ll continue to share your energy. N Bondage Research Group. E-san. That concludes the letter from E-san in N City. Thank you for reading the “Talking Theater.” We sincerely thank you for watching the Kinbiken video. E-san dislikes professional women and absolutely hates the expressions and acting they put on. I completely agree with that sentiment. I have persistently and repeatedly written about this in various magazines, original single-volume books, and Fuji Kikaku’s website blog But let me say this in defense of professional models and actresses. It is the men surrounding them on set, the directors, photographers, and magazine editors, who force them to adopt those fake, artificial expressions and poses that we enthusiasts detest. The men who give orders all around are the ones obscuring the agonizingly alluring natural expressions of the bound woman, the subtle reactions of her body. In plain terms, the beauty of genuine masochism. For example. During the shoot, the model’s hair fell mysteriously, draping softly over her face. I thought, Ah, this is lovely, such a great atmosphere. If I shot it now, it would be a wonderfully emotional bondage photo full of feeling. Just as I was getting lost in the moment, the photographer or director immediately called over the hair and makeup artist, ordering, “Makeup artist, the model’s hair is messy, so fix it up nicely. The makeup is looking a bit messy too, so redo it to make her look cuter.” The makeup artist, like me, is just an employee, so we do as the cameraman and director say. The filming was interrupted at a crucial moment, causing the carefully cultivated emotion radiating from the model’s entire body to vanish instantly.

Posing is the same. When she strikes a naturally sensual pose, writhing her whole body in a way that makes me shiver watching from nearby, the photographer yells, “Turn more to the right, turn to the left, show your face better, lift your chin, lower your chin, wrinkle your forehead more, raise your right shoulder, lower your left shoulder, spread your legs wider and twist your ass,” and so on, which completely ruins the masochistic mood that had finally started to build. Every time the photographer gives orders, the once-emotional, lively poses become as lifeless as a doll. Some photographers give detailed instructions down to how the model should grip their ten fingers while bound behind their back. And what they’re really after, in the end, is between a woman’s legs. They want to capture that commonplace scene of a girl with cute makeup spreading her legs. SM enthusiasts are convinced that all men want to see a woman’s genitals. No matter how much I explain, persuade, or appeal to their true feelings as an enthusiast, they won’t be convinced. They won’t believe what I say. The reason is that they simply don’t have that enthusiasm in them to begin with. Models, if they don’t listen to the photographer or director, won’t get paid, meaning they won’t get their fee. So they obediently, truly obediently, almost tearfully obediently spread their legs and expose their genitals. Some models seem to deliberately flaunt their crotch, taking pleasure in drawing the attention of the men around them. But most resign themselves to it being part of the job and spread their legs without any resistance. After all, the shoot won’t end until they spread their genitals open for the camera. She spreads her legs so readily, so innocently, so without resistance, gliding open to reveal her most private parts, that I always think, “With girls like this, there’s really no need to go to the trouble of tying them up, is there?” In other words, there’s no need to tie her up, and even if I did, it wouldn’t be interesting. I’ve written about this topic in various places before, and since it would just turn into me complaining in the end, I’ll stop here. E-san’s letter wasn’t particularly long, but I understand your feelings perfectly. They came through clearly to my heart. E-san is unmistakably my comrade. Please invite me to the gathering you’re hosting next time.