Monday night.

9pm.

Kenji Kitabayashi’s apartment.

Kenji’s tidy floors had never seen a mess like this. Every item, toy, tool, and accessory he had accumulated since high-school were spread across the studio. He hadn’t seen the entire collection out on display like this… the sheer volume was both shocking and a little embarrassing.

He snaps a photo. Oh boy.

The photo appears in a digital gallery next to a few others from earlier. Saved from his blog archive.

He opens one.

A photo of himself. In this room. His skin like photoshopped silk in overexposed lighting, he models an outfit nobody had ever seen him wear. Pink striped thigh-high stockings, satin panties, and a matching dog collar of pink leather and ribbon with a silver o-ring dangling from the front.

The collar has a tag, as a pet’s might. It reads: “Kitten”.

Sitting on his bed, Kenji absorbs the full scene of his filthiest secret. It was all here. The only people who had ever seen this did not know him by name.

Stacie does. And she knows exactly where he works, where he went school, the names of his family members… and the expression his face makes in most vulnerable of moments. She’d seen it several times now. It must be etched into her mind…

She asked for the truth. But does she really want it? Is she really ready to see him this way?

His finger hovers over her contact as he tries to think up some appropriate ice breaker.

He decides instead to be blunt.

Kenji: You were right about me.

A response comes sooner than he expected it to.

Stacie: Oh, was I?

Purposely vague… He’d have to elaborate.

Kenji: It was foolish of me to think I could hide it from you. If you can forgive me, I’m willing to… be more honest with you. Per your request.

Stacie: I look forward to it.

Another moment…

Stacie: Is there anything else you’d like me to know before I take my own liberties?

Yes…lots… He wanted her to see. He nervously scans the gallery, finger lingering near the “share” icon. The blog he’d been building for years, hundreds of photos, thousands of comments, is it time to finally show someone? Is Stacie even trustworthy? He wants her to see it, he wants her to know. To smash that brick wall open and never turn back. But it wasn’t a guarantee yet that if she saw it…she’d stay.

He resolves to test the waters before taking the plunge.

Kenji: Um…yes. I’m wondering if you’d like to see a picture.

Stacie: A picture. Of what nature? I might.

Kenji: Private picture…

Stacie: I’ve already seen you naked, baby.

Kenji: Nobody has seen this.

She takes a few minutes to text back. Likely mulling over his intended meaning. Maybe finding a private place to receive it? He can’t turn back now… The grumbling terror was outweighed by the overwhelming thrill of finally being seen, and if he was lucky, understood.

She responds.

Stacie: Show me.

Swallowing every ounce of shame and guilt and anxiety, Kenji selects the photo with the stockings and the panties and the collar…and hits “share”. Irreversible. It’s done. Sent. There it is, in Anastasia’s chat thread. The wait for a response is nauseating.

And finally…

Stacie: Oh my god.

Is that good or bad??? He panics.

Kenji: I have a lot… Would you like to see more?

But, in seconds, she drops a bomb.

Stacie: No.

What?? Like a tsunami in his stomach, he reacts too emotionally too quickly, what could have possibly gone wrong, how did he miscalculate, what would be her new opinion of him, did he already cross the point of no return –

Stacie: I want to see you in it.

Oh.

Stacie: All of it.

Stacie: In my room. At my feet.

Stacie: You’re going to bring everything you have and you’re going show me exactly how you want to be used, kitten.

Stacie: Understand?

Kenji responds without thinking, so naturally you’d think he was trained.

Kenji: Yes ma’m.

🌹🌹🌹

That weekend.

Stacie’s expression when she greeted Kenji at her door was less cheerful. She donned a different demeanor. Back straight, expression dangerously severe. A subtle brow lift and curved corner of the mouth was all he got when he showed up with his tightly zipped duffle bag.

“Come in,” she says.

Normally she’d offer him a drink. Ask him where he’d like to leave his coat when he steps inside. But today…her patience is short.

Kenji had reviewed several monologues in his mind for how to introduce this, to slowly ease her into it, not reveal too much too soon. But Stacie doesn’t give him the chance.

The moment the door closes, in a dictatorial tone he’d only heard before in the board room…

“Change,” she says.

Woah. He turns to stare. It was a command. It sounded harsh and felt like a hot dagger. But…in the moment he takes to pause and look at her face…he sees more of her than she may have intended to lead on.

A desperately restrained smile and a fluttering heart.

She wants this.

“Into what, ma’m…” Kenji asks.

Still staring – “Your favorite.” She crosses her arms and leans against the marble kitchen island.

Politely nodding, he escapes through a hall into the guest bathroom. He undresses. And redresses.

Keep it tame. This is only round one.

Kenji looks at himself in Anastasia’s large bathroom mirror. Turns around, examines every detail of his own body. To see himself in this way…in someone else’s mirror… Oh god. The cool air on his exposed skin made him desperately want to throw on his long sleeve clothes and run far far away. But an even deeper part of him, the same little subconscious responsible for every decision that led him to this moment, pounds like ceremonial rhythm, a sacrifice of his facade of sexual naivete.

He exits the room. Comes through the hall. And stands in the open frame. Completely on display, bearing all, Kenji reveals himself his date, honestly.

There is at least a 10-foot gap between them, the cool air and suspense of the moment occupying their distance. Standing right in the line of sight, up against her kitchen island, Stacie takes in the image of him with an involuntary flare of her eyelashes. Like her very breath was torn from her throat, she freezes. Gaping. A determined severity to her expression, the toned muscle in her arms is tense. Her face communicates every emotion at once – intrigue, joy, fear, rage, passion, control – and in her extended reaction, she hasn’t yet chosen which face to put on first.

Exposing his body and his longest kept secret, Kenji is modeling his favorite. Pastel pink cotton briefs with tiny bows on the hips for accent. White sheer thigh-high stockings, with little pink toe pads printed on the feet. The pink leather collar from the photo. And fuzzy white ears to match the title on the collar’s tag; “Kitten”.

It’s all here. Right in front of her. He swallows a building lump in his throat, feeling more vulnerable in the open space than he ever had before.

Stacie bites her tongue, still unable to speak, and steps forward. Kenji takes gentle padded steps to meet her in the middle. His movements have changed. His posture and mannerisms are not the same as they were when they met in the office or had their date in the restaurant. A bowed head, feet so light and barely audible, like a flower in the wind.

They come together. And Stacie places her hands ever so carefully on the sides of Kenji’s bare arms. Not looking into his eyes yet, she examines every bit of him from bottom to top.

She finally opens her mouth, but for only a low deep whisper. “Oh…my god…..”.

Kenji bites his lip and lowers his head further, a submissive nod. Just barely above a puff of air, “…do you like it?”

Stacie cannot take it anymore. She brings her callused hands to grab the sides of his face. Looks directly into his eyes with stern desperation. He stares back at her and allows this moment of sweet release linger as long as it might…

“You’re perfect…” she says in soft mutter at first, and then, “You are perfect. You’re perfection,” louder, clearer. “Give me all of it. All of this. I need all of this, everything that you have, I need it, you are perfect, oh my lord.”

She steps back to give the entire picture another look. “Oh my god…..” she mutters again.

Kenji can’t describe his emotions. Feeling so many things inside him at once and being given so many commands he can’t decide what to or how to react. She likes it. She loves it, she wants it. What does he do now, what does she want to see? There is so so much more to share…

“What else is in here?” Stacie demands, pointing to the duffel bag. Was it time?

Shuffling his feet, “Oh it’s…”, he’s found himself so deep sub space that even forming words to respond is a chore, “I have…some things…”

“What things?” she demands again. “Show me all of it.”

All of it? He carefully grabs the bag. Instead of opening it, he offers it directly to her.

She raises an eyebrow.

“Yours…” Kenji replies, granting her complete permission.

Staring into him with a hot fiery gaze, Stacie takes the bag from his hands. Before opening it, stares back at him. Another long pause.

She lifts her index finger to his chin, grazes it sweetly across his jawline. To her surprise, he complies by shutting his eyes and embracing the full sensation of the touch, nuzzling his cheek into her open hand. It’s instinctual…

Ignited like a purring engine, Stacie tests him again. She moves her finger to the bridge of his nose and applies only the slightest bit of pressure.

“Down.”

Instantly, Kenji falls to his knees. Kneeling on the floor, inches before Stacie’s firmly planted feet. Her jaw drops. The automatic obedience surprised even himself. They both realize in this moment that they may be miraculously well suited to one another after-all.

Desperately collecting her scattered emotions, Stacie bring her finger to the top of his head, stroking them through his hair, and then gripping tightly. He flinches. And then freezes, letting out an unintentional whimper.

“I’m gonna be good to you, kitten,” she says, with her fist still tightly closed around locks of Kenji’s hair, “You’re not going to regret showing me this,” and then drops her voice to a whisper. “You’ve been a very good boy. And I’m going to make your fucking dreams come true.”

When Stacie releases her grip, his head falls. He is far too love drunk to support himself. He can barely even hear her opening the duffel bag.

“Oh my god,” she moans, pulling out the first item she finds inside. White leather hand-cuffs lined with fur. “Holy fucking shit.” She pulls out a matching blindfold, along with several pairs of tights, panties, and leather accessories. “You little…” pulling out a big fuzzy tail that matches the ears he’s wearing, and gasps when she sees what in the end. A butt plug. She looks for more. And finds them. A jeweled butt plug. A tiny bullet vibrator. And then a much larger one – an angled prostate stimulator.

Stacie is stunned. Appalled. No words leave her mouth as she digests the concept of the items she’s just viewed. And then…

“You nasty…slutty…desperate…depraved…little…son of a cunt,” she mutters in the deepest growl she can possibly conjure. “How could you keep this secret from me, baby??” Suddenly she grabs Kenji’s cheek in her hand and stares at his face. “How dare you behave like such a good little whore outside my grasp and not tell me all this time??”

She squats. And leans in close to him. Pinches Kenji’s cheek harder, looking him his barely opened eyes. “You wanna know something?” she coos. So deeply entranced, Kenji moves only his gaze to meet her, body still languid. “You’re gonna be my little kitten now,” she says. And grabs hold of the leather collar around his neck, he gives way to it and extends his neck for her, involuntarily whimpering one more time. “You’re gonna be Mama’s good good little slut, my pretty little thing, my sweet baby kitten, and I swear to you…you will get everything you have ever dreamed of. How does that sound?”

Toxic warmth spreads all the way through Kenji’s shaking body, limp heavy head falling into her hand, sticky precum leaking through the front of his pink cotton panties… He is only able to reply with gesture. A smile.

Erotica Portfolio 1