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Lyara opened her mouth to hail a greeting to the champions...

When Yolo is finally satisfied that nothing more can be expected from further attention to your breasts, she stands up and goes behind you. There, she first plaits your hair into a thick braid that runs down the center of your back. Then, she takes a piece of rope and weaves it into the braid, thereby both securing the braid and creating a tether. Lifting your chin with one hand, she pulls on the tether until your head tips back and you are staring at the ceiling, at which point she ties the tether to the binding around your upper arms. The resulting effect is dramatic. I am reminded of the figures of women that used to surmount the prow of sailing ships. Even the beads of sweat that now cover your body encourage this image: they might be drops of water left by the spray as the ship cuts through the waves.
Looking to Sato for his approval, Yoko returns to her seated position at your side. With fluid grace, she opens the collar of her kimono and lets its upper half drop into a luxurious silk ring draped around her hips. As I had noted earlier, her frame is diminutive, but this fact only draws attention to her conically shaped breasts which, with hardly a dip, stand out from her chest and are made especially enticing by her tawny skin and her dark areolae. The contrast between the freedom that her relatively modest, pointed breasts enjoy and the severe restrictions to which your own, more ample, breasts are being subjected is stark and wonderfully erotic.

Without a change in the calm expression that has been on her face from the outset, she bends forward and reaches a hand between your legs. Using her fingers to spread your labia, she presses the tip of one finger on the very tip of your clitoris. Telling you that it is the final step in completing Sato's image of female fecundity, she explains that she is going to teach your clitoris how to reveal itself. She tells you that her own clitoris has had this training and that the lesson is hard to bear. On the other hand, she assures you that you will not only bear but even come to appreciate the combination of vulnerability and accessibility that results from knowing your clitoris is fully distended and totally unprotected.

In spite of its falling under the shadow of your rounded belly, your vulva is dramatically displayed and completely available. It began to open during your binding, and by now it resembles a ripe fruit whose succulence has about to burst through its skin. At its center, I can already see the nodule of flesh whose education I am to witness. Bathed in your secretions, it glistens and, as Yoko's finger manipulates its tip, its stem seems to grow and throb. Bringing her other hand into play, Yoko captures its stem between her index finger and thumb, preventing your clitoris from retreating under its hood. Like a good teacher, she attempts to bolster your confidence and assuage your suffering by praising the progress you are making. In addition to her consolation, she offers you a vivid account of the anatomical changes that she is trying to produce. Namely, she says that your clitoris is rooted to your vulva like the bud of a young plant and that those roots must be loosened if it is ever going to grow. In some societies, that loosening is accomplished by draconian methods, by comparison to which her methodology is an act of kindness.

Perhaps because you are overwhelmed by the excruciating treatment to which you most delicate organ is being subjected, you make no attempt to move. On the other hand, it is obvious that you are under enormous stress: every sinew in your arms, stomach, and legs is visible through the film of sweat that swaths your entire body. Apparently out of sympathy for your plight, Yoko does not reprimand you for your occasional gasps, but her sympathy does not extend to your clitoris, which she continues to exercise for a full five minutes.

When she is satisfied that it has learned i

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