Nureki Chimuo Archive

Using this strange electronic device, I wrote and published my first piece, and what do you know? Within a day I received responses from 300 people. And now, two weeks later, it’s surpassed 1000, “I wonder if anyone actually finds these dull little writings of mine, stuck in my own narrow, particular world, interesting enough to read.” I told my manager, R, with unease, and she turned to me with a sharp look on her face, “Listen Nureki Sensei, you don’t really need to worry if readers will find it interesting or not. What makes us happy is you write exactly what you think is interesting, what you personally love, just as you please. Each of us has our own worries and obsessions. Being able to read your writing in real time, where you vividly express your own unique interests, and share some kind of feeling… that experience itself is already so incredibly joyful, I think. You pay too much unneeded attention to your readers. If you try to pander to them, your writing will quickly degenerate. Be mindful of that.” Man… that’s harsh…. Well, I’m not really sure but I feel like she may be telling the truth. She says it with such firmness and confidence. My manager, R-san, looks like Matsuyuki Yasuko when she plays a prosecutor on TV dramas. It’s frightening. What she says is correct. One must not unnecessarily cater to readers. One must not pander. That is exactly right. “Yes, I understand.” I have no choice but to obey. For someone like me, a weak-willed slacker who compromises too easily. She must be called a blessing of a manager. She could be called my ideal manager. “Please continue writing as you are, targeting only those readers who get chills just from reading the dense kanji text about “Ancient Rope-Tying Techniques” in Doctor Itatsu’s book and

letting their imaginations run wild. Don’t bother with those who say it’s no fun without illustrations or photos. Everyone has the level of imagination seen in yourself. Write with even more confidence.” “Yes, understood!” I respond, feeling like standing at attention. After all, R-san possesses a thick book she painstakingly created herself: “The Complete Works and Labors of Nureki Chimuo (濡木痴夢男全作品・全仕事のリスト).” It contains a remarkably detailed record of all my “work” to date. In my case, I have numerous pen names and an absurdly large volume of “work,” so honestly, I can’t even keep track of it all. R-san meticulously and painstakingly records it all. Those records are more accurate and detailed than my own. Come to think of it, she’s young (a third of my age) and an amateur, yet she’s wasting her precious life on my flimsy, insignificant life story. She’s a strange person indeed. She might even be a pervert. “I’m as fragile as a feather in the wind.” I’m not saying this to be modest. I hate modesty and restraint; I love being praised and bragging. But, every now and then, I have a moment of sudden clarity. Frankly speaking, the work someone like me has been doing is mostly worthless, utterly trivial. I feel like I have just been living a life of leisure without putting in any real effort. I have absolutely no ambition whatsoever. The idea that someone would track down, read, organize, and hand-bind every single piece of work by a man like this is beyond comprehension. Alongside my gratitude, I feel awe and can’t hold my head up to R-san. That’s why I obediently submit to her orders. Plus, she always wears long black socks and has a sadistic foot shape. “Don’t think that it’s boring, just keep writing whatever you want to write.” So, I think I’ll write about Rakka-san, my current partner. Rakka-san also reads a lot of what I write, she knows almost all of my pen names. Though not quite as much as R-san, she reads my older works quite thoroughly. Especially those “Kink Diary”-like pieces I wrote in bulk and serialized in various magazines back in the day. She reads them meticulously, down to the last detail. It’s almost frightening how precisely she grasps everything, even my mental state while tying up female models at the time. She’s someone who can read between the lines. You can’t let your guard down around her. I wouldn’t consider starting a relationship with a woman unless she reads what I have written. I only began relationships with women who have read my past writings and developed feelings for me.

(Come to think of it, it’s only natural.) The women who read my writing naturally understand my feelings, personality, and way of thinking. That’s why I feel at ease too. Feeling at ease, we can discuss SM in its deepest aspects. I go on and on about it, but that’s pretty much how I met Rakka-san. She’s just shy of thirty, I suppose. I never ask a woman, or anyone for that matter, about trivial details. I’ve never asked about age. I’m not interested. Some people seem strangely matronly even when young, while others stay young at heart and soul even as they age. When she undresses, Rakka-san has a truly fresh, beautiful, and perfectly proportioned erotic body. The slenderness of her waist, the lovely shape of her hips, the smooth curve of her lower abdomen, the beautiful way her flesh curves from her thighs to her knees, the delicacy of her ankles. It’s exquisite. Having tied over 5000 female models to date, when I saw her naked body before me, I couldn’t help but… “Wow! Beautiful!” I couldn’t help but groan. This is about the twentieth time I’ve bound Rakka-san, but every time I see her naked, especially her lower body, I’m struck by its overwhelming beauty and erotic curves. “Mmm, why is it so beautiful? I can’t stand it!” And within those five hours, I’d utter a gasp of amazement about ten times. Those five hours were spent meeting her, locking ourselves in a room, performing a “play” called “bondage play.” Of course, sometimes it would continue until the next morning. Her body was smooth and silky, without a single scar or blemish. This was, in fact, something truly precious. The purity of her naked body was unmatched. (It might be a bit too much praise, but since Rakka-san is surely reading this too, I’ll give it my all and write it with praise.) I decided to study these “Ancient Rope-Tying Techniques,” using Rakka-san as my model. But to jump ahead to the results, that night we never got around to experiment with the “peasant rope.”

It all started when Rakka-san met me at her office desk before heading to our usual love hotel, and we ended up watching a certain DVD together. That DVD footage was utterly devoid of enjoyment to watch. On the contrary, it was oddly heavy and exhausting to watch. I felt a wave of weariness wash over me midway through. Glancing sideways at the footage, I pulled my favorite rope from my bag. Suddenly, I grabbed both her arms from behind, twisted them up and bound them high and low. One was enough. At times like this, the best thing about her is that she lets herself be tied up without any resistance whatsoever. (Meaning she instantly senses how I feel.) She and I were sitting side by side on chairs watching that DVD, but while she was being tied up, all the strength left her body. Her lower half went limp and floppy and she slid off the chair. She just collapsed on the floor. This is just how it always is. That’s why, when I tie her up, it has to be on the bed. Otherwise, it’s a real hassle afterwards. Since it was Sunday no other employees were present, but the act of tying her up in her daytime office, binding her hands and feet, must have appeared, objectively speaking, as a rather bold, immoral, and indecent “play.” But that’s exactly why I like doing this kind of thing in places like this. It’s thrilling. It gives me a unique satisfaction. I held her slender neck and tilted her head back, sucking her lips, sucking her tongue, slipping my hand under her blouse to grasp her breasts, pinching and pulling her nipple with my fingers. Her body grew even softer, limp and pliable. Before heading to the love hotel I’d been doing this sort of thing, so by the time I finally decided to start experimenting with the “peasant’s rope,” my enthusiasm and energy had somehow faded away. In the end, it just turned into the usual pleasure-first “bondage play” as usual. I’ll write about the details next time.