Nureki Chimuo Archive

Rakka-san is a designer who lives along the JR Saikyo Line and maintains an office on the 8th floor of a building near a certain station on that line. Rakka-san herself is the boss, and she works in collaboration with five or six female staff members. They edit and publish several types of local magazines for cities, towns and shopping districts in the region. While those magazines appear to be their main source of income, they also handle various jobs like making pamphlets and posters. I’ll stop explaining any further, as revealing more would give away the existence and location of her office. I must be extremely careful not to cause her any trouble. This is an unspoken rule. More exquisite and profound than the common pleasures of the world, and all the more potent for its strong scent of transgression, maintaining it requires considerable nerve. Her office is officially closed on Saturdays and Sundays. However, she, the boss, sometimes comes in alone and quietly takes care of business. On those days, we arrange to meet discreetly in those empty offices. I had planned to use her as a model to experiment with Dr. Itatsu’s “peasant rope,” and I met her at the office that day to do it, but in the end, I couldn’t. The reason was that before heading to the love hotel (our favorite one, just a ten minute walk from the office along the Arakawa River), I ended up watching a “special” DVD in that empty office. I’ll talk about the contents of that DVD another time when the opportunity arises. Anyway, watching it didn’t exactly lift my spirits. Quite the opposite, in fact. “Is there really anyone who watches footage like this and feels energized, finding the courage to live or hope? Yeah, I guess there must be. I just don’t get it.” “Ugh, ugh, ugh, ughhhhhhn…..” Then, Rakka-san let out a grunt that could be either denial or affirmation, and nodded in agreement with me.

Both she and I felt oddly heavy-hearted and gloomy, and we became utterly disheartened. Last time, I wrote a little about this. From here on, I’ll write about our “actions.” Well, to put it plainly, I found the footage boring and tedious, my apologies to the creator, and couldn’t stand it any longer. My attention shifted to Rakka-san, sitting beside me. I pulled a rope from my bag and suddenly bound her arms behind her back, securing them tightly. At times like this, I have no particular sadistic feelings or desires. Some might think, “You’re kidding,” or “That can’t be true,” but really, I have no sadistic, that is, cruel desires. (I’m asking you, Rakka-san. Tell me, what exactly do you feel when someone suddenly grabs you from behind without warning and ties your hands behind your back? I want to know. Is there some kind of masochistic feeling involved? Oh, I want to know. Please tell me. Don’t play coy like you usually do, saying “Eh? Eh? Eh? I don’t know anything about that! I don’t understand! I don’t know!” Please tell me, I really want to know.) Come to think of it, whenever I tie up a female model, though it’s mainly for photoshoots, I wonder if there’s always a hint of sadistic desire in my feelings… No, I guess not. What I feel is simply a desire for today’s shoots to go smoothly, without any trouble. I’m the type who worries if even the slightest problem arises. Some people might think that tying a woman’s hands behind her back with rope and hoisting her up is nothing but inhumane, dehumanizing, cruel, sadistic behavior (most people think that and rightly so). But in my case, that’s actually not true. This isn’t sophistry. There’s no point pretending to be virtuous now. When I bind someone, I don’t harbor a single sadistic feeling toward the women involved! If I “confess” something like this, some people might be disappointed. To those people, I apologize. Ahh, what a terrible thing, I’ve only just now realized this. What a fool I am! I am appalled by my own foolishness. I am ignorant, uncultured, and shameless. I have been deceiving the world with my smooth tongue, putting on a show. It’s nothing but empty talk, a charade to fool others. When I tie Rakka-san, I feel nothing but the urge to caress her, to touch her body relentlessly, to toy with it. The rope is merely a tool to heighten my own pleasure. They act all high and mighty, spouting nonsense about S and M, but in truth they’re neither S or M, just plain F, meaning nothing more than a fetishist.

Now, for those wondering what exactly those sadistic acts of Nureki Chimuo, binding people in cruel positions, hanging them, whipping them, or pinching nipples with toes and pulling are all about, I will explain later. So please wait a moment. On a Sunday afternoon, in an 8th floor room of a white office building where the roar of trains occasionally echoes as they speed along Saikyo Line, I found myself watching DVD footage that seemed otherworldly. (So that's it. I’m just a guy with a rope fetish!) I think, and that fact strangely surprises me. Rakka-san silently puts up with someone like me, showing not the slightest resistance as she lets me bind her. What’s more, she crosses her wrists behind her back and raises them up near her neck, a rather intense TK12 . She immediately felt bound by this restraint, becoming more intoxicated than she felt, her body softening and becoming limp, sliding down from the chair she was sitting on. Feeling the rope, or getting drunk, I’m writing these things based on my own assumptions. But this is purely an observation from my side; you could call it my “wishful thinking.” For my part, I want them to feel my rope. Once before, I asked in all seriousness, “Like this, tied up, collapsed on the bed, unable to move, just laying still… can you feel it?” Her response, voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, “I don’t know.” “Are you drunk on my rope?” “I don’t know.” “Answer me honestly.” “I don’t know, I don’t know.” This is how it goes. (I guess she’s drunk on the rope, but too embarrassed to say it out loud.) And once again, I interpret it as I please, feeling good about myself. I revel in the sense of superiority. My ropes are incredible. There’s also a feeling of conquest. Looking at the expressions on her face, the expressions of her body, I can only think she’s intoxicated by the ropes. TK is short for Takate Kote, as discussed earlier.

To put it plainly, my mood at times like this is akin to how the pleasure of the average guy who believes sex is just thrusting in and out would feel if he ejaculated five times, no, ten times, no, fifty times in a row. No, no, let’s stop with the cheap metaphors. Comparing it to the pleasure of ejaculation might be wrong. In short, it’s a different kind of pleasure from the ordinary. A deeper, broader, inexhaustible delight deep within. Bound in a TK, Rakka-san slipped to the floor and collapsed. Grabbing her by the nape of her neck, I forced her face upwards and sucked her lips and tongue. Suck in the lower lip forcefully and bite down with your teeth. Bite while sucking the lower lip, or lick it persistently with your tongue. (When leaving the love hotel, her lower lip is always red and swollen.) Grasping and kneading her breasts through her clothes. Spread the collar of her blouse and insert your right hand from above. Slip my fingers under her bra. I pinch her nipple. Pinch it, then rub it with my fingers. Pinch it hard, then pull. Oh, oh, oh, she moans. She hardly resists my actions. She just lets me do it. She doesn’t say “no” or “stop.” (Come to think of it, I’ve never once heard her say “stop.”) I suck her lips again. I’m persistent. I suck her tongue too. I put my tongue inside her mouth. More than putting it in, I twist it in, push it in. Tongue and tongue entwine. While kneading her breasts with my right hand, I swirled my tongue around inside her mouth. (Ah, I wrote about this part last time. I need to move ahead.) I got hard, pulled down my pants, and wanted her to suck me off. If I made her suck me off right there, how good would that feel? First, it’s thrilling. The thrill evokes intense pleasure. This is a place where such things should not be done. It’s a sacred office. The illicit pleasure of making her give me head in a place it should not be done. But, I don’t have the courage to actually do it. Even though it’s Sunday and the staff aren’t coming in, this isn’t a typical company, so someone might suddenly show up. All the female staff are graphic designers or computer-related designers. There are copywriters too. It feels like freelance work.

Each person has a key to the office door. I actually help out with work in this office from time to time, and I know their faces and names. I talk with them. Sometimes we even go to izakayas together. If anyone saw me forcing their leader, Rakka-san, to give me a blowjob while tied up with her hands behind her back in the empty office on Sunday, well, that would be a bit of a problem. You know, I do have some sense of reason (lol). So I gave up on blowjobs here. No need to rush, if we go to a love hotel, we can relax and enjoy ourselves as much as we want. (But love hotels don’t offer any thrill. It still feels like a missed opportunity. I’ll do it sometime soon.) I kissed her lips deeply once again, drawing her tongue into my mouth and tangling it with mine, then untied the ropes binding her. I fast forwarded the DVD and pretended I’d watched the whole thing. “I’ll save my thoughts on the DVD until later. I’ll talk about them properly then.” “Well if things stay like this, I’ll just feel unsettled and unable to move forward.” After this conversation, Rakka-san and I cleaned ourselves up, stepped into the hallway, and locked the door to the room. Leaning against the railing in the hallway, nature fills my entire field of vision. The view is splendid. Green-covered hills lie refreshingly spread out. Bondage games in dimly lit rooms are fine, but natural scenery bathed in evening sunlight is also wonderful. The surface of the Arakawa River glitters so brightly, it’s almost dazzling. We got on the elevator and went down to the first floor. We kissed from when the 8th floor doors closed and the first floor doors opened. I kept caressing Rakka-san’s but with one hand. After a 10 minute walk, we arrived at a nearby love hotel. Two hours for 5000-yen. The system charges an additional 1500-yen for each hour after. We’ve never managed to stay for just two hours. Once, we stayed for six hours. It is a new building, so the rooms are clean and feel fresh. When you push the button on the bath, bubbles gush forth vigorously with a bubbling sound. After watching a heavy DVD for an hour, I felt strangely exhausted and immediately lay down on the bed.

“You must be tired too, so come here and lie down next to me.” I embrace Rakka-san. We are both fully clothed. I suck on her lips. Not mutually, just me sucking them one-sidedly. Ah, so. I just realized. This person, Rakka-san, only lets me kiss her lips, yet she never kisses mine in return. No matter how many times she lets me kiss her, she never kisses me back. This person, like a doll, just submissively lets their lips be sucked. No, that’s wrong. She’s no mere doll. She’s a woman with acute sexual nerves. So even if she doesn’t show me any outward “return,” inside, in her heart, she’s fiercely giving me her “return.” I understand that. It comes across clearly. It’s not just kissing. There’s a reason why she doesn’t react to anything. No matter how lewd it gets, she doesn’t react, though her whole body goes limp, and she never makes the first move. I know the reason. I know it well. It’s because she’s shy. Among all the women I have known, none are as shy as she is. Well, Rakka-san, you’re too shy to make the first move, aren’t you? People who are extra shy tend to be extra sensitive sexually. So you rarely show anyone else that you’re shy! Shy women are beautiful. To me, they’re the most charming and beautiful! And to me, a woman without shame is the most hideous creature. You should be reading this writing of mine. (I won’t let you say you’re not.) Please be honest with me next time we meet. Because you feel too much, you’re embarrassed. “How could I possibly say something like that? It’s too embarrassing!” Your embarrassed voice, ah… just now, reached my ears.