Milky

Milky

By Surtea.     2009.     surtea@live.co.uk

Acknowledgement: I liked Rachael Ross’ 2003 story ‘Turning Japanese’.  My starts in the same place but after a while the story heads off in a somewhat different direction.

Story codes: M/F, M+/F, F/F, humil, blckml

Summary: A pretty American woman gets transferred to the Tokyo office. There she finds some of the customs very different.

Chapter 1 - Graduate

As I had majored in Japanese at college it made perfect sense that when I got my MBA I would join a Japanese firm here in New York.  They wanted my skills and I would get to improve my Japanese.  The pay was good too for a freshly minted Business School graduate.

Several friends told me that I was crazy to join a Japanese firm; that they were misogynistic and that only Japanese men got anywhere. I said that we were in New York, that US law applied and that only half the staff in their US office were Japanese. If there turned out to be a problem I could just quit.

And there was no problem.  It was the trading and brokerage arm of a major Japanese conglomerate.  I ended up working for the commodities trading group, which was perfect for me.  I didn’t do trading, that really wouldn’t suit me: I am not the loud, brash type that succeeds on the floor.  I specialized in the analysis of the trades the team was doing and analyzing how the team did compared to the market.  I looked for trends in the market we could exploit and anomalies that the traders could make money from.  My analysis was prompt and insightful and I quickly settled into the group.  My Japanese boss was pleased and complimentary.

The group was 90% male and of these two-thirds were Japanese, but there were Americans there and some women and they did just as well as their Asian counterparts.  There weren’t any Japanese women working there, even the Head of Trading’s secretary was an American. While we all socialized together it was clear that at times the Japanese guys would all go off and do stuff together: drinking, karaoke and the like.  My Japanese improved to almost complete fluency and I felt like a valued member of the team.

One or two of the women would complain that sometimes the Japanese men would hit on them, especially after a few drinks but I never had any bad experiences.  I wondered why; I am pretty enough, brunette, good figure, not so tall that I would tower over shorter Japanese men.  I assumed that I was left alone because I spoke excellent Japanese and that made me more accepted and less of an easy target for a pass.

Then at the appraisal marking the end of my first year a bombshell dropped: the company wanted me to transfer to Tokyo.  It seemed my analysis had been used on the much bigger trading floor in the head office and had been commented on favorably.  They offered me more money, help finding somewhere to live and even a little office of my own (I was then sharing with the man in charge of settlements).  It was all really tempting and definitely a step up the ladder.  I may not be loud but I am ambitious. So after a weekend’s thought I said yes to leaving in two weeks time.  I was single and although I’d had a boyfriend at Business School it hadn’t lasted and in the last year I had been focused on work, not play.  At 25, I had lots of time to worry about that later.  So I had no real commitments and I felt the chance might never come again.

Chapter 2 - Tokyo

I landed at Narita on a Sunday morning and was met by my flat mate. Head office had arranged for me to share an apartment with another woman my age as it would make settling in easier and I was grateful for the support and the company.  I was nervous though as to how we would get along.

“Su-sa-na Ta-lo?” She said as I came through, looking somewhat lost.

“Yes, I’m Suzanne Tailor.”  I had got used to Japanese people with less good English mangling my name and had got used to shortening it.  “Call me Suzi, it’s easier.”

“Thank you, I am Reika Kato.  I am so pleased to meet you Suzi.”

Reika was a typically (to me) beautiful Japanese girl.  I say girl because she looked so young though in fact she was a year older than me. She wore her hair in a lovely bob and every bit of her was perfectly in place: hair, make-up and clothes.  I felt like a slob in my comfortable flying outfit.  It turned out she was the PA for the Head of Commodities Trading: my new boss.  Perfect: she could tell me how to get along in the department.

The apartment was small even by New York standards but not too bad for Tokyo apparently.  With all the commuting and the long hours Japanese don’t spend that much time at home apparently.

Reika helped me get ready on Monday.  I wore my smartest outfit and did my hair and make-up perfectly. Reika told me that in a Japanese office women are always expected to dress smartly and men always wear suits.

The subway was a shock as it was crowded even by New York standards. And somewhere between the second and third stop I felt someone’s hand rubbing over my ass.  In shock I whispered to Reika.  To my surprise she whispered to me to ignore it and not to make a fuss.  Making a scene would mean that I lost face and Reika too by association.  So I let the anonymous hand fondle my rear.  I felt disgusted and I could not even tell which of the men packed in around me was doing it. Encountering no resistance the wandering hand even moved to my front and massaged my pussy through my skirt. I felt myself blushing crimson and felt hot tears of humiliation in my eyes.  Fortunately the journey ended soon after.

“Does that happen often?” I was in shock and still crying a little.

“Sometimes,” said Reika with a little shrug, “maybe it will happen more for you than me as you are a foreigner. Do nothing. If you say something you will look stupid. Not that many men do it.”

At the office I went through all the formalities before joining my team.  Here the commodities trading group occupied an entire floor of the tall building that was the corporate head office. My little office was on one side with a view of the main road, but at least it was mine.  There must have been nearly 50 men on the floor alone: all male and all Japanese.  The noise of the trading was different too: not so loud but very firm and if anything even more arrogant than in New York. Around the outside were the offices of the dozen managers, most of whom had a PA outside.  All the PAs were women and all were immaculately dressed. While the men were all ages, the women were between 20 and 40, though it was difficult to estimate as Japanese all looked young to me.

I was introduced to everyone but remembered only a few of the names. Soon I had settled down to work, which besides being in Japanese was not that different from back in NYC.  In what seemed like a short while Reika came and took me home.

During the rest of the week I was groped twice more on the subway. The first time I just managed to hold back the tears.  The second time I wasn’t even shocked. And when the man pushed my legs slightly apart I just complied.  With the skirt I was wearing it couldn’t be very much.  I even got a little thrill as his hand squeezed by behind and reached round to rub my mound. I talked it over with Reika, she had only had one little squeeze all week.  It must have been because I was non-Japanese.

The following Monday I guessed that there was just the one man and that he was probably waiting at my stop for me to get on so that he could push in next to me. The groping began almost as soon as the train moved off. Soon he was pushing my thighs apart. I let him, by now I was complicit in this silly game and even found it a little exciting.  After all it couldn’t go any further.  Till it did… I felt him undoing the waist band of my skirt and sliding down the zipper.  In panic I looked at Reika, but she only stared back quizzically; she knew I’d been enjoying it a minute earlier.

I felt the questing fingers slipping into my skirt and pantyhose and down into my panties. Soon he had pushed through my curls and was fondling my labia.  To my shame I was a little wet which only made his task easier. I couldn’t help give a little gasp as one of his fingers slipped inside me. Reika giggled and held a finger to her lips to shush me. All the way to our stop I was fingerfucked.  I could not help or resist and I very nearly came; it had been a long time since a man touched me there.  Gripping my clothes I stumbled from the train at our stop.

“You liked it,” Reika was laughing, “and last week you were complaining!”

“I couldn’t help it,” I mumbled, “I didn’t mean to…”

My feeling of being stalked only intensified the next day as my anonymous admirer was back.  I tried to stay as close as possible to Reika, hoping that her presence would deter him, but that only made things worse as she was now pressed up against me and able to see the reactions on my face in every detail.  The fingers undid my skirt and pushed my thighs apart. The fingers searched through the folds of my pussy finding my dampness immediately.  I actually slumped forward against Reika as I felt his two middle fingers slide into my pussy.  I realized I actually wanted to come, but not there in public. Once again Reika giggled as she saw me panic.  She did not know why: my tormentors other hand had slipped round the back and I suddenly felt those fingers sliding down the crack in my ass as the finger fucking in front continued.  By the time we got to our stop I had two fingers sunk to the knuckles in my vagina while the tip of another had wormed its way into my anus.  I staggered from the train blindly, trying to keep my clothes in place. 

Reika just giggled and even said ‘dirty girl’ when I told her what had happened.  The next day I insisted on taking a different route and Reika reluctantly agreed though it would take longer. “But on Mondays we will take this route,” she insisted.  I submitted thinking that once a week I could probably cope with.

That Monday turned out to be even worse.  It was as if the man was making up for lost time. He completely undid my skirt at the side so that I had to hold it up with one hand. Not only did his fingers seek out my pussy as before, he grabbed my free hand and stuffed it into the pocket of his overcoat. I was in for another shock: the pocket had been completely cut away and his hand led mine till I felt his erect penis sticking out of his trousers. I tried to pull away but he just held it there while fingerfucking me. I gave in and began to rub his cock at which point his hand left me and hunted out my pussy were it found my juices and, having lubricated itself went round to my ass.  With this lubrication he managed to get the digit entirely into my behind. Wide-eyed I slumped against Reika in the train and just before our stop I felt my tormentor come.  His climax triggered mine and I whimpered as I tried to hide my own orgasm. I dragged myself from the train with his sperm on the fingers of one hand while the other did up my clothes.

Reika saw the white sticky mess on my fingers. “You are a dirty girl, very dirty.”  She was laughing.

“I’m not. You were the one that told me not to make a fuss.”

“Yes, but I did not say to let the man do that to you.  You did that by yourself.”