Utopia Nishi

BDSM erotic storiesWell, my darling diary, I have been away from you for too long and I’m so sorry. Things got so busy at the Retreat and I just haven’t had a chance to write anything at all. I’m also in such a muddle about Taun that I just need to focus on something and someone else for a while. Taun is amazing. But that amazingness is so frightening. Why is he so patient with me? Why does he care if I learn to accept and cope with my situation here? And if he cares that much why doesn’t he help me get free?

I can’t stop thinking about him, obviously! I sit down with you, sweet friend, and announce that I’m going to tell you about Utopia and then I proceed to babble on about Taun!!! Well, I will just say that the other night I didn’t go to Taun’s cabin because I needed time to think; I needed to be away from him and around the other men. Maybe I was trying to remind myself just how awful they all are and how lucky I am that Taun is taking an interest in me. Maybe I was just trying to run away from an unknown and scary situation. But, Taun found me and he was not at all happy that I hadn’t shown up. He took me to the cabin and we resumed my training. But, he didn’t punish me. He’s just so unpredictable. He has a controlled calm about him and doesn’t let anyone manipulate him or make him react in any way other than that which he decides to act. He doesn’t make me call him master or have me kneel in front of him or something corny like that. He doesn’t whip me or punish me just because he can or because it turns him on. Everything he does seems to serve a purpose; it’s like he’s playing one long game of chess and you only realize it’s check mate hours or days later.

Okay, now I promise I will tell you about Utopia.

Everything started with Utopia Nishi. I was so young, barely past my 18th birthday, when I met him on my way home from a party. He was quite a bit older than me although I never found out how much older, and he seemed so experienced and knowledgable. He was so interesting and I quickly became fascinated in his stories and tales. He walked me home that night and was a real gentleman.

We became friends and for several months nothing happened except regular meetings in coffee shops where we’d laugh and chat like old friends. He almost seemed like a big brother to me, asking me about boyfriends and school and work and life; he was so interested in me and really seemed to care about what I thought and said. We started going to his place for drinks and it was completely innocent at first. His house was amazing. It’s hard to describe but if you try to imagine a converted barn strewn with half-finished canvasses and paintings and lots of odd, old, artifacts lying around, that would give you an idea of what the place looked like. Also imagine plenty of wood, lots of natural sunlight and half a dozen pale green plants. And a wonderful smell of something I could never figure out what.

He never asked to come to see my apartment which surprised me because he seemed so interested in me. But I was much happier at his anyway so bit by bit we stopped going to the coffee shops together and I would always meet him at his. Our conversations grew more intense and intimate. He asked so many questions. But he never tried anything.

I didn’t really notice it happening but our conversations became more and more about sex. I started to get really turned on talking about things with him; he seemed to know exactly what I liked and made me confess things to him that I’d never told anyone else. He got inside me and drew stuff out of me. One evening, just when I was getting really turned on by one particularly deep and probing conversation and really beginning to desperately want to move our sibling-like friendship into something much more intimate, he did it.

I was lying on the sofa, as usual, and he was sitting sort of to my side by behind me, if you see what I mean. It was, I suppose, a little like how you imagine a patient sits to talk to his or her shrink. Anyway, I couldn’t see him and I was in the middle of a particularly intimate description of one of my sexual fantasies that he loved to hear when he slowly took my wrists and gently pulled them up above my head. I looked up, pausing in my story, and he smiled a deep, sincere and caring smile as he said, “Go on…” So I did. I just kept talking. It was so strange but I was so used to just lying there on his couch, talking to him, telling him my thoughts, dreams, and intimate personal secrets that it just seemed normal to carry on doing so even when he started doing things that were not at all normal.

My wrists were now bound in something soft and silky and Utopia told me to close my eyes but to continue talking. I did this. I then felt something cover my eyes and he lifted my head slightly so he could tie it behind my head. I paused but again his soft, kind, gentle voice urged me to continue with my tales.

I can’t remember what I was talking about and it became more and more difficult to concentrate on what I was saying as I felt him unbutton my shirt. I wasn’t wearing a bra; I never did in my teens because of something I’d heard or read about it being better for the breasts and more natural or something like that. Anyway, my shirt was unbuttoned and opened and I remember feeling the air suddenly on my skin and feeling very naked and vulnerable but also so curious and excited. My wrists were tied and my arms were up above my head but I could have pulled my tied hands in front of my chest. I could have pushed Utopia out of the way. I could have told him to stop.

I didn’t.

“You are delicious. I have dreamed of seeing you like this. Don’t move.”

That’s all he said and I knew I would stay lying there, not moving a muscle, waiting for him to tell me it was okay to break the position. I heard him moving things around in the room. Was he going to paint me? Take photos? Just sit there and stare at my naked breasts pushed up into the air, becoming desperate for his touch?


I was at the doctor’s once, waiting in the exam room, cold in just my robe, so nervous about what was going to happen. I waited, waited and waited. The doctor seemed to take forever. At first I was scared about what was going to happen. Then I was bored at waiting so long. Then I was irritated that the doctor was wasting my time. Then I was worried that they’d forgotten about me and I’d have to walk around half naked trying to find a nurse or assistant or someone. Then I just wanted the doctor to be there. At that moment he showed up and I was all smiles and so very happy to see him and the procedure wasn’t nearly as bad as I had thought it would be and, on my way home, I couldn’t help thinking that they’d made me wait exactly that amount of time on purpose.


In an instant, Utopia’s mouth was on my breast, hot tongue flicking, licking, teasing my nipple, at the same time his hand was groping my other breast, fingers playing, tweaking, pinching the nipple. I gasped and cried out a mixture of surprise and intense pleasure at the sudden sensations shooting through my body. I remember aching for him with a burning need that pulsated through me. I started to cry out for more, begging him to touch me between my legs, to take me completely.

After what seemed like forever he began to kiss my mouth, gently at first, maybe just to hush my pleas, but then his kisses grew as needy as my own and I heard the clank of his belt buckle and felt him pushing my skirt up to my waist. I lifted my hips, to make it easier for him, thinking he would want to pull down what I was sure would be my soaking wet panties. But he must have just pushed them aside because the next thing I felt was his weight on top of me and suddenly he was inside me, pounding and groaning and all of a sudden it didn’t even seem like him at all and I was scared. I desperately wanted to see and for the fist time I tried to take off the blindfold. Then I heard a gruff grunt of pleasure and he rolled off of me.

I lay there, sobbing underneath the blindfold, my hands still bound in the silks, my head whirling with conflicting emotions and my body swirling with confused desire.

What had just happened? Who was that?

I felt the silks being untied and the blindfold was removed. Utopia sat down on the sofa next to me, stroking my hair and, as I looked up into his kind eyes I saw the smile I had come to love. But I also saw something else. Something frightening that I had never seen before. A distance, an untouchable, unreachable something that I knew I’d never know or understand.

A small sound drew my attention away from Utopia. A man was standing in the room and, at his feet, completely naked, three girls were kneeling. I looked back at Utopia, scared, confused and bewildered. But he just stood up, walked over to the man, spoke in a voice too low for me to hear, and left the room. The man then walked over to me and, grabbing me by the wrist, he pulled me up into a sitting position. I tried to protest, cover my naked breasts, ask him what was going on, find out who he was, but all I earned for my efforts was a disgustingly smelly rag shoved in my face. And that was the last I saw of the charming and quaint converted barn house. When I awoke I was in a room in a house which – I would later find out – Utopia proudly referred to as, “The Slave Pens of Utopia.”

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