Extreme Japan Reloaded

By | October 25, 2009

KatsumiKatsumi Reloaded Part 1 – Avenger Again

Two years had elapsed since her revenge had been completed on Jiro. The thrill of that night still brought a smile to her lips. She had fended off the questions of the police. Her wig and makeup combining to confuse the security guard enough to make her unidentifiable by him or the CCTV in Jiro’s apartment block.

She had continued to work at the store and had risen to the level of department supervisor, in the toy department. Not her first choice but it did provide her with a slightly larger apartment and a steadily accumulating savings account because of her increasingly reclusive nature.

Katsumi couldn’t help thinking about the thrill of that night when she had wreaked her ultimate retribution on Jiro. And yet she knew that to attempt to recreate it would lead to disappointment and possible incarceration for her …


The tiny red dot on his forehead contrasted with the pale, grease-painted white of his skin. His eyes were closed, face serene. She stared at it for a moment, head cocked to one side. Then as if pulled by unseen strings she turned and left him in his quiet repose.


One morning one of Katsumi’s girls arrived for work late. This didn’t trouble Katsumi as she was a generally good worker with excellent attendance and impeccable attitude. What did cause Katsumi to take her to one side was the obvious redness of her eyes and their forlorn look.

At morning break she summoned the girl to a meeting room. She was obviously concerned that the summons meant a reprimand and possibly a dismissal for tardiness but Katsumi immediately put her at her ease.

Hanako had it would seem just broken up with her boyfriend. Katsumi consoled her and held her hand as the explanation of her tardiness and the emotions poured out in an avalanche of sobs. Katsumi listened intently feeling the girl’s pain, wanting to say something to make it go away and knowing from personal experience that nothing she could say would perform that magic.

At the same time she could not help but notice how the floods of tear streaming down Hanako’s face make the silk of her blouse cling to her bra and picked out the laciness of the cups. At one point Katsumi drifted into a daydream, imagining how it would feel to slip a hand inside and scoop out a breast. She licked her lips, imagining taking one of Hanako’s nipples into her mouth and sucking on it …

… Katsumi snapped herself out of the daydream just in time for Hanako’s outpourings to finish. Katsumi found herself staring down into a pair of doleful brown eyes and telling the girl to take the rest of the day off more for her own comfort than Hanako’s.

Katsumi spent the rest of the day imagining the delights of a night with Hanako and wondering how she might persuade her to acquiesce.


It took Katsumi two weeks to find out his name and where he lived. She had seen him outside the store waiting for Yukio but the city was big and Yukio was not an uncommon name.

Another month led her to his favourite bar and some bright red lipstick and an overtly sexual stare encouraged him to ask her back to his apartment for “coffee”.

He was younger than her by about five years, still full of impetuous youth and the arrogance and certainty that accompanies it. She covered up her distain for his attitude by adopting her preferred persona when in the intimate company of men – forceful and sexually aggressive.

She pinned Yukio to the wall and kissed him hard before he had chance to make the coffee then released him to the kitchen while walking slowly around his flat taking in the particularly western layout and décor.

He returned with two cups of hastily made instant and placed them on the table in front of the couch. They sat together making small talk, her hand rubbing his leg, her tongue darting playfully across her red-painted lips, freshly painted after their earlier kiss against the wall.

Katsumi felt his stiff member through his designer jeans and smiled.

“Let me take a look at that …” she crooned.

His cock popped out like a flesh and blood dildo. She spat on her fingers and coated the end with saliva, rubbing the glans and teasing his frenulum with her thumb. Yukio lay back and watched, content for a hand job on a first date. Even he wasn’t expecting this from a girl he’d only met an hour before.

With Yukio now under her control Katsumi watched his face contort while she masturbated his cock. Her fingers pumped his shaft, the head of his cock now wet with precum as well as saliva. She felt herself becoming aroused, the crotch of her knickers first humid then wet with fluid.

This wasn’t the arousal of desire but one born from the power she held over him. It was the same kind of excitement that she had not felt for two years, since Jiro …

His balls were tight and by judging the expression on his face she was able to keep him on the edge for several minutes. She rubbed her thighs tightly together, wishing she had a helping hand down there to bring her off but knowing that there were more important matters at hand.

She quickened her pace brutally pumping his cock. A few strokes and he was pumping hot, white semen over her hand and his stomach. He groaned, sated and content at his own sexual release.

Katsumi reached into her purse and removed a small pistol. She brought the barrel to rest on his forehead. His eyes opened as the cold steel interrupted his blissful repose. Katsumi placed her hand in front of his mouth, “Lick it off.” She commanded. A terrified Yukio obliged gulping down the viscous liquid as instructed.

Katsumi wiped her hand on his T-shirt to remove his saliva. She picked up a cup from the table and slowly poured the hot, brown liquid onto the carpet, then the couch between his splayed legs, slowly towards his groin. Within a few inches of his scrotum she looked him in the eyes, the smell of hot coffee in her nostrils and his face pleading to her to stop.

For a moment she did.

Then suddenly poured the contents of the cup onto his exposed cock and balls. He screamed but kept his head still, not daring to provoke her. His hands gripped the couch, knuckles white.

Katsumi got up and picked up her purse. Yukio began to sob behind her. She took a few steps towards the door, then snapped. She wheeled around “Oh shut up!” she said, pointed the gun and pulled the trigger once.

The tiny red dot on his forehead contrasted with the pale, grease-painted white of his skin. His eyes were closed, face serene. She stared at it for a moment, head cocked to one side. Then as if pulled by unseen strings she turned and left him in his quiet repose.

The halo of blood and tissue framed his head and a small drop of blood ran down the side of his nose from the hole in his forehead.