Nureki Chimuo Archive

My new book was published about two months ago, but only now are the reviews from readers starting to come in, one after another. This is essentially proof that you read it all the way through. Those who gave up halfway through are unlikely to send any feedback after reading. Either way, it’s a blessing for the writer. I am deeply grateful. Given the title is “Bondage: As Long as I Live,” readers are mostly enthusiasts of this particular genre. Currently, there are quite a few enthusiasts in this field who are members of the sex museum, so naturally, many are familiar with its director, Nakahara Rutsu. Therefore, some readers have kindly sent their impressions not only to me, the author, but also to Nakahara Rutsu-san, who wrote the commentary alongside me, expressing their affection for him as well. It is a blessing.

The commentary written by Nakahara Rutsu contains many generous words of praise for me, which I find quite embarrassing. Yet it is by no means limited to that. It also serves as a chronicle of the rise and fall of the various “SM monthly magazines” that once flourished. Therefore, this commentary shines among enthusiasts as a valuable resource. A concise yet insightful history of the rise and fall of SM magazines, truly remarkable. Nakahara Rutsu’s commentary has added great value to my small paperback. I would like to express my gratitude once again. So, I’d like to share a few of the comments I’ve received here. I wish to preserve this “Talking Theater” I continue to write as a record of my living presence here. For the sake of caution, we will withhold the names of those who have come forward. Thanks to the internet, it seems people are increasingly getting into trouble these days because a little hint can reveal their real name, address, and occupation. With that in mind, I’ll be especially careful when introducing them. Recently, I myself experienced something startling, though not exactly a major nuisance, that came to light due to a tiny lapse in attention, like being pricked by a needle. It made me truly realize the terrifying nature of IT devices. While we will withhold your name and other personal information, we will accurately transcribe the content. Otherwise, it would defeat the purpose of recording it. There is absolutely no computer equipment whatsoever in my workroom. Everything is handwritten. To all who have sent their contributions, with heartfelt gratitude, I thank you. (I will omit all seasonal greetings and similar formalities.) ＊ ＊ ＊ I had of course read the contents of the book in SM Sniper, but reading it all together this time allowed me to enjoy it thoroughly once again.

The excellence of the writing style, which carries the reader along at a comfortable, efficient pace, goes without saying. Yet what truly moves me is how the heartfelt connection between the sensei and the female models comes across so vividly. I just can’t get into the “master and slave SM play” that’s being pushed all over SM networks and media these days. In our country without slavery, it’s only natural that both S and M are actors playing roles, but the self-satisfaction that leaves the other must feel hollow. I also sense a certain danger in those who become overly absorbed. As you wrote in your book, even in fleeting relationships for commercial DVDs or gravure shoots, if we never forget to treat each other with sincerity as human beings, the truth of a man and woman’s once-in-a-lifetime encounter can be born. Whether you’re S or M, once you face off, it’s a straight-up showdown of human against human. Since M women are putting their bodies on the line for acts that could be life-threatening, S men can’t get away with bluffs or half-baked attempts either. The difference between professionals and amateurs lies in their resolve not to run away from the path they’ve chosen. Nureki’s thoughtful consideration and compassion toward the women are liberating the hearts of these sexual minority individuals. There’s SM that brings women happiness, and then there’s SM that pushes them in the opposite direction. It made me think about many things. Nakahara Rutsu-san’s commentary was also a masterpiece. Especially for researchers in this field, your insights into Nureki’s literary activities under his pen names are an invaluable treasure. He’s doing a fine job as the director of the Sex Museum. The museum director and Nureki Sensei did a great job as fellow professionals. I look forward to seeing him continue to unravel the immense achievements of the sensei.

Having known him for so long, I am ashamed of my ignorance as one of the “blind men feeling the elephant” who knew only a fraction of his many pen names. I place my hopes in his research. Thank you very much. I would be delighted if I could ask you to sign my copy of your book if we meet someday. ＊ ＊ ＊ The above is part of the feedback essay sent to us by A-san (we will refer to him as A-san for now). Handwritten in black ink, each character meticulously penned in regular script with sincere brushwork. Handwritten characters, when you press down with your finger, they emerge smoothly, yet they feel different from those typed with a click. You can sense the living “heart” within them.

As I carefully copied out each and every word of the letter I received from A-san, I found myself thinking that over and over again. With a single tap, the characters appear smoothly. And if you tap somewhere else, even a long passage vanishes smoothly. The words written on stationery retain the raw “heart” of the moment they were penned. They cannot be read carelessly. That said, I too have been reading more and more typed text lately. Since most of the correspondence I receive is typed, I can’t help but read it. It goes without saying that typewritten text is easier to read than messy handwriting. As I always mention, I write every single character by hand, 100 percent freehand. But this very act of pinching a pen between my fingers and writing each tiny character, one by one, is actually training for the delicate fingerwork required in rope bondage techniques. (Ah, inspired and spurred on by A-san’s sincere letter, I’ve let slip a major “company secret!” lol) To make rope cling vividly to a supple, smooth female body, unless the tips of your five fingers possess “eyes,” you cannot achieve such a lively, close fit.

When binding a naked woman’s body, I sometimes deliberately close my eyes as I apply the ropes. I bind her while observing her reactions through the sensitivity of my fingertips, using the “eyes” of my fingers. Before I can consciously exert my will, the rope and my fingertips sometimes merge of their own accord and begin to move effectively. At such times the woman’s body, her smooth, thin skin and the soft flesh beneath it, responds to my fingers and the rope, breathing in unison. When I feel my fingertips come alive and breathe, it’s then that a momentary intoxication descends upon me, and becomes one of my pleasures. Holding the pen and moving your fingertips, unconsciously adjusting the pressure as you write each character one by one, this meticulous task hones and trains the subtle sense required for binding. The fingertips are densely packed with delicate blood vessels that are constantly active. When you prick your fingertip with something like a thumbtack, a tiny red dot of blood pops out in a round shape. When writing with soul, the blood concentrated in your fingertips becomes more vibrant and active, and the soul takes residence. The soul flows from the fingertips into the rope. The soul of the rope simultaneously transmits to the woman’s body. Previously, someone said, “Nureki’s ropes bind not only a woman’s body, but her very heart.” I recall responding in kind, caught up in the play of words at the time, but the truth is, it’s not about binding a woman’s heart with rope. It’s about making her become one with the rope. I have never thought of binding a woman’s heart with rope. I’ve often thought how nice it would be if I could bind someone’s heart as well. Even if you try to bind her and make her face you, she won’t easily turn toward you. That’s the nature of a woman’s heart.

In A-san’s letter, there was a line that made me pause and think. It was, “As you wrote in your book, even in fleeting relationships for commercial DVDs or gravure shoots, if we never forget to treat each other with sincerity as human beings, the truth of a man and woman’s once-in-a-lifetime encounter can be born.” To be perfectly honest, it’s precisely because these encounters at work are once-in-a-lifetime opportunities that I can pour my heart and all my skills into the women I meet. For just one day, I can devote all my strength to serving M-type women with pleasure. (Ah, this might also end up revealing “company secrets.” Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this.) Our service to the M women we encounter through work lasts for two days, or at most three days. Day after day, for ten days or twenty days, if we keep expending our physical and mental energy in the same way, giving it our all to keep up with others, our own minds and bodies will eventually break down. Incorporating our work into daily life requires an enormous amount of energy and nerves of steel. Two or three days in a row is fine, but I simply can’t physically handle any longer than that. The more intense the act, the sooner the routine sets in. This is where the difficulty lies in how men and women interact in this world. “The truth of once-in-a-lifetime encounters.” It certainly exists. However, to be perfectly honest, I suppose it would be something like, “It is precisely because it is a once-in-a-lifetime encounter that it is true.” But saying that would be the last straw. (Maybe I shouldn’t have said that after all.)