There we were at the Shanghai. A few friends and I decided to have some coffee and eat some more of that delicious cake we always order. Strawberry Shortcake, I think it was called. Yuuko nervously takes our orders, shaking as though she’s mortally afraid of all of us, and obediently goes to the kitchen to make them. This time, I forgot to order my cake. The Shanghai was completely deserted, so I decided to just follow Yuuko into the kitchen and tell her that I forgot to order a cake for myself. What I saw back there still haunts me to this day. It was no kitchen; no appliances for making food or drinks, nothing. It was what they call a sex dungeon.
 
Thoughts started rushing through my head like air to an area with lower pressure. Do my eyes deceive me? Is what I see in front of me really what I think it is? There were crippled young men and women, all lying on their backs and bending down against their will, clearly all coming from Yamaku. Chains, whips, ball gags, and all manners of fetish gear litter the dark back room. Evidently not seeing me, Yuuko sits down on a chair and pulls a rather long vibrating shaft from under her skirt. Was that inside of her the whole time? Suddenly I think back to all the times I’ve seen her really nervous around people. It all makes sense now. She looks at me, startled. I don’t even know what to think.
 
“Oh shit,” she says almost nonchalantly. That has to be the first thing I’ve ever heard her say without some form of nervousness in her voice. I didn’t want to know what all this was, but as they say, curiosity killed the cat.
 
“What… What is this?” I ask, quickly regretting it.
 
“This is the Shanghai,”
 
“This has been back here… all this time?”
 
“Pretty much,”
 
“Where do you make the food?”
 
The question obviously takes her back. Did she not expect a customer who just saw a kitchen filled with fetish gear not to ask that? Sometimes I question whether or not she’s really ever seen a university.
 
“You don’t want to know,” she says. I don’t want to know? Has that frosting I’ve been eating all these months just been some form of vaginal juice fashioned into a delicious sugary treat? I take a moment to think about what to say next, but I’m quickly interrupted by Yuuko.
 
“You’re not getting away, you know?”
 
“You’ve seen all of this, and now you have to join them.”
 
My mouth opens wide in surprise. I have to join them? What the hell does that mean? Before I can even finish another coherent thought I’m grabbed by Yuuko who forcefully throws me onto a table and handcuffs me. Before I can even think, I’m bent over, trying to get away but all I can do is wait in absolute horror while she prepares whatever she’s going to do to me. She takes the dildo that she so elegantly hides under her skirt when taking orders and shoves it into my ass. I could feel a little bit of fluid coming out of it and the smell of rusted metal fills the room. Am I bleeding from my asshole? Her resolve not wavered by the blood, Yuuko starts thrusting it in and out, over and over and over.
 
“I’m sorry, Hisao, but if I don’t do this they’ll punish me!” she exclaims.
 
I didn’t know what she was talking about, but the prospect of some higher power that does this to disabled kids? What kind of sick fuck would do that kind of thing? Does the fact that they’re disabled just get him off? By the end of the “session,” I’m sobbing. There’s a dick being shoved into my anus and I can’t do anything about it. Yuuko stops and whispers conspiratorially into my ear. “Did you enjoy it?”
 
The question initially makes me wanted to throw my hands up and try to hit her. But then I thought about it a little bit. Perhaps this wasn’t so bad. It was a little painful at first but I think at least it didn’t bother me by the end. Before I can think of more ways to describe how being sodomized wasn’t so bad, she cuts me off.
 
“You came,” she says, with no nervousness clouding her voice. I look down under the table and my penis was very clearly covered in cum. I suppose I enjoyed it a little more than I initially thought. This wasn’t such a bad experience.
 
So that’s my story. In the end, I’ll probably find some excuse to back there. It’s not like the food and drinks served at the Shanghai are all that bad. Is that what all of those other kids I saw were thinking as well? I suppose we all have our ways of getting off.