The Story of He Jing, a Prostitute in Tokyo, Part 1 (Updated 2010.7.19)

Author: subzero71 First Published: 18p2p

Chapter 1

"Mom! Why is this all the allowance I'm getting this week?" Looking at my son Kenichi's dissatisfied expression, I felt a pang of guilt.

"Kenichi, keep your voice down! Don't let Dad hear! Dad's already in a bad mood because he lost his job! Don't let him hear this and upset him further! As for the allowance, Mom will figure something out!" I coaxed my son gently, finally managing to get him out the door and onto the school bus, but then I couldn't help but stand at the door, tears welling up in my eyes.

"How could this happen?" I asked myself.

More than ten years ago, I graduated from Fudan University and became a secretary at a Japanese company. At that time, like all Shanghai girls, I dreamed of working for a foreign company, marrying a foreigner, and going abroad. With my pretty face and charming figure, I was confident that finding a foreign husband wouldn't be a problem. I didn't give a second glance to any Chinese boys who pursued me. Only foreigners were within my consideration. Even if the other person was older, as long as they could take me abroad, I could accept it. I admit I was vain, but that's the atmosphere in Shanghai, and I didn't think there was anything wrong with my plans. During that time, a male colleague pursued me relentlessly for a long time. Although he was quite attractive, I wasn't interested.

Fortunately, shortly after escaping his advances, I met my husband: Yasutsugu Ito, a department manager at his company. He wasn't particularly handsome, but he was close in age to me, honest, and most importantly, he could fulfill my dream of going abroad, so I married him without hesitation. A year later, I became pregnant and resigned from my job. He was transferred back to the company headquarters in Tokyo, and I finally arrived in Japan, the paradise in the eyes of Shanghainese. And I came with Japanese citizenship, something many of my female friends envied. After marrying Ito, I changed my surname to his and adopted a Japanese name: Shizuka Ito, thus abandoning my Chinese name of over 20 years: He Jing. This made me feel more like a Japanese person.

After marriage, in Tokyo, like many Japanese women, I chose not to work and focus on being a wife and mother. Life was quite peaceful. Although life here wasn't as luxurious as I'd imagined, my husband's hard work kept my son and me relatively well-off, and for a time we were financially secure. But this happy life was shattered by a severe financial crisis. My husband's company went bankrupt! After losing his job, he was devastated. He tried to find work again, but on the one hand, he was too old for other companies, and on the other hand, the financial crisis had severely impacted the Japanese economy, making jobs extremely difficult to find. My husband was confined to his home, and the family barely survived on his unemployment benefits. Life became increasingly difficult, and I started scrutinizing every penny of our daily expenses. Our son had to transfer from a private to a public elementary school due to our financial situation, and now we could only give him 3000 yen a week for allowance—a meager sum for a fourth-grade student in Tokyo. What could I do?

Just as I was silently weeping in despair, a large hand landed on my shoulder. It was my husband! He had overheard our conversation. My husband, his face filled with remorse, held me tightly in his arms, and my tears flowed even more uncontrollably.

We went home, embracing each other, and after a long silence, he finally asked, "Shizuka! Is our savings really running low?"

"Yes..." I nodded, taking out my bankbook and credit cards one by one and handing them to my husband for review: "After deducting the monthly mortgage payment, utilities, and other expenses, we only have 180,000 yen left for the three of us to live on each month. That includes over 10,000 yen for our son's allowance, your transportation costs, regular expenses, and dry cleaning for your suits... Our lives... are really..." My voice trembled with sobs. My

husband lowered his head, clutching his hair in anguish, and said, "I'm so useless! I'm so useless! I used to be a department manager at a big company! How did I end up like this... Let me die!" Having been on the verge of collapse for so long, my husband finally broke down! He struggled to walk out!

I quickly and desperately tried to stop him from doing something foolish. My husband struggled and shouted, "Don't stop me, Shizuka! If I die, you can get the widow's allowance and my pension, plus the government's child support subsidy. Oh, and the mortgage on the house will be cancelled because of my death. Let me die! I've thought it through! Only in this way can I do the most meaningful thing for my wife and children as a man! Let me go!" With that, my husband shoved me aside and tried to run out the door!

"No! Kang Jijun! If you want to be a man, you should live with dignity!" Although I was pushed to the ground, I still clung tightly to my husband's clothes, struggled to my feet, and hugged him tightly from behind, crying as I pleaded, "Listen to me, Kang Jijun! Don't give up on yourself! What good is a large sum of relief money if you die? We can earn money, but Jianyi can't live without a father! And I can't live without you! Have you forgotten the promise you made to me when we had our wedding in Shanghai?"

Perhaps because the child was mentioned, my husband's emotions calmed down a bit, and he stood there without saying a word.

"You promised to bring me to Japan, buy a big house in Tokyo, and have a healthy boy with me. Haven't you done all of that? There's one more most important promise, don't you want to keep it?" I gently pressed my face against my husband's back, my tears soaking his shirt.

"What promise?" My husband's tone was no longer so hysterical, returning to its usual gentleness.

"Love me for life! If you really do something foolish and die, who will keep that promise?" I said with a bitter smile.

My husband turned around, looked at me with tears in my eyes, and hugged me tightly. We kissed passionately again.

From that day on, my husband never had the thought of lying again. Instead, he worked even harder to find a job and did odd jobs to supplement our income. Although I was relieved to see that my husband was no longer having wild thoughts, his income was still not enough to support the family. So I also planned to go out and work. It would definitely be better if we both earned money. But when I told my husband about this idea, he disagreed vehemently.

"I'm not the kind of traditional, patriarchal Japanese person, Shizuka, but you're really not suited to work in Japan. First of all, you're Chinese, and you should know how much discrimination Chinese people face in Japan. Secondly, you're a woman, and a 35-year-old middle-aged housewife at that. You've been out of touch with society for almost 10 years. Even a high-performing department manager like myself can't find suitable work after losing my job in middle age. What can you possibly do?" My husband tried to persuade me with his reasoning while eating breakfast.

He wasn't wrong, but our family's financial situation was so bad. How could we support the family if I didn't find a job?

"Kang Jijun, I understand what you mean, but please listen to me. I am indeed Chinese, but don't forget, I've been married to you and come to Tokyo with you for 10 years. Whether it's my documents or insurance policy, I'm Japanese. Besides, I studied Japanese before, and after so many years in Tokyo, my accent is now a pure Kanto accent. So, who would know I'm Chinese if I didn't say so? Furthermore, precisely because I'm a woman, I have an advantage over you when it comes to finding a job. I plan to continue in my current field, as an office clerk. You men can't compete with us women for that position." I smiled playfully at my husband, who smiled back, shook his head helplessly, and let me make my own decision, no longer trying to stop me.

It's easier said than done. Although I graduated from Fudan University, a prestigious university known for its talented women, as my husband said, I've been a stay-at-home mom for too long and have become out of touch with society. I interviewed at two companies, and I didn't even know how to use basic office software or equipment—the results were predictable. Undeterred, I spent two more days wandering around Shinjuku, hoping to find a job as a clothing store clerk, but I was met with disappointment again. A trendy downtown area like Shinjuku requires young sales assistants; 28 is already considered old, let alone 35—a true "middle-aged woman."

I was disheartened. When I got home, I complained to my husband, who suggested I look online for suitable jobs. This suggestion was crucial; why hadn't I thought of that? Going out aimlessly every day to try my luck was foolish. I asked him why he didn't look for jobs online. He gave a bitter laugh and said he'd sent out over a hundred job applications online, all to no avail; he'd given up. I'm doing this strenuous part-time job to barely support the family. It might be better to wait for the Japanese economy to recover before applying for other jobs.

Seeing my anxiety about not finding work, and perhaps out of consideration for me, my husband and I made love that night.

It's funny, I've almost forgotten when we last made love! When we first got married, we were both so curious about sex that we made love almost every day. Even after I became pregnant, my husband, still pent up with unfulfilled sexual desire, wouldn't let me go, making me masturbate or perform oral sex on him every few days. But after bringing me back to Tokyo, my passionate husband became completely listless. Life in Japan is very stressful; it's normal for men to work more than 12 hours a day. My husband has a very demanding job, so he comes home exhausted every day. He usually takes a shower and falls asleep immediately, having no energy left. We only have sex once or twice a month, and even then, it's very poor quality. Each time we make love, it feels like I'm just going through the motions of being a husband; he usually ejaculates in just a few minutes, and I'm completely uninterested. Even this monotonous sex life almost stopped after my husband lost his job. He's always preoccupied and sighing, and he doesn't even have the energy to go through the motions anymore. I think the last time we made love was last month.

It's late at night, and our son, Kenichi, is fast asleep.

My husband and I roll around naked on the tatami mat, kissing and caressing each other. I don't know if he feels the same way, but when he rubs his face against my breasts, I can feel his face burning.

I hold his equally hot penis and gently stroke it; he still has a strong masculine charm when he's erect. Holding his penis in my hand, my physical reaction intensified. My husband's hand also slipped between my legs, gently playing with my clitoris. We, as husband and wife, had no secrets from each other regarding our sensitive areas. I was so aroused by him that I couldn't resist kissing him and stroking his penis. He, too, was becoming increasingly breathless.

"Husband! Come on! I want…" I eagerly spread my legs, my eyes half-closed, filled with desire, pleading with my husband.

Perhaps unable to refuse, aroused by my sexy body and the unique moans of a woman seeking pleasure, my husband mounted me, gripping his penis and forcefully thrusting it into my beautiful vagina, beginning a vigorous pumping motion!

One, two… each thrust from my husband brought me immense pleasure. It had been so long since I'd had sex; I'd almost forgotten the feeling of a man's penis inside my vagina. But as my plump labia greedily swallowed my husband's penis, the intense sexual pleasure brought back that long-lost feeling.

Just as I was reaching the climax and about to start moaning loudly, ignoring the sleeping child next door, my husband unexpectedly ejaculated prematurely.

He seemed very comfortable during ejaculation, his face as ecstatic as ever, completely oblivious to my gradually cooling expression. Their intercourse lasted only one minute, and he seemed completely unaware of it. After ejaculating, while wiping himself with tissues, he boasted with a hint of smugness, "Haven't done it in a while, didn't expect to ejaculate so much." He handed me some tissues, instructing, "Jingxiang, you wipe yourself too, don't get the sheets wet."

From the moment my husband ejaculated, the shadow cast over my heart by our declining financial situation and my unfulfilled desires deepened.

The next morning, after seeing my husband and son off, I calmed myself and started looking for a job online.

There were many companies recruiting online, and with my qualifications, I could try for many jobs, but the age requirements in the job postings often kept me at bay. Almost no job recruited women over 30. Of course, that's not entirely true. For example, jobs like office cleaning are quite lenient on age for women, but how could I do that kind of rough work? It seems like searching for jobs online is a waste of time.

I was a little unwilling to give up, so I stopped looking at job postings page by page and started trying to find suitable jobs online by typing my criteria into a search engine: 35 years old, female applicant.

The screen refreshed instantly, and thousands of links appeared: "Newcomer seeking employment at a hostess club," "Mature women are welcome," "Amateur applicants seeking employment at a hostess club," "Housewife seeking employment as a clerk," and so on.

Although I haven't had much contact with this perverse Japanese society since coming to Japan as a full-time housewife, I still know what a hostess club is. Traditionally, hostess clubs usually just offer drinking services, but most hostess clubs are basically legal brothels. I never thought that for women my age, the only jobs available besides cleaning are prostitution?

Feeling incredibly aggrieved by the insults I'd received from society, I was about to close those filthy web pages with a cold laugh when I was suddenly drawn to a link with the words: "Over 35,000 yen per day."

35,000 yen? 35,000 yen a day? My husband's part-time job, doing manual labor, only earns 10,000 yen a day. How could this job earn so much?

Inexplicably, I clicked on the link to see the details.

The full text is as follows:

"Female escort seeking employment at a brothel

in Ikebukuro. Married women seeking dates.

This is a legally operating brothel providing adult services. We are continuously recruiting female employees, aged 20-50. Inexperienced individuals are welcome."

Benefits:

Completely flexible working hours, 9:00 AM to 4:00 AM daily,

guaranteed daily pay of 35,000 to 70,000 yen.

Compensation: Full cash payment, high-income guarantee system, no penalties,

waiting time, one room per person, unlimited TV and DVD use, unlimited drinks from the refrigerator, one

meal , company-wide comprehensive hygiene management system, and regular free medical checkups.

Qualifications

:

Women aged 20-50, psychologically mature, and confident in their appearance, figure, and temperament. Inexperienced married women are welcome. Applicants must have no bad habits and pass a medical examination.

Issued by:

Tokyo Metropolitan Public Safety Commission No. 6xx9.

Access:

3-minute walk from the East Exit of Ikebukuro Station.

Tel: 03-5xx8-6xx5 Mr. Tanaka

After viewing the webpage, I rested my chin on my hand, a slight ripple of emotion stirring within me. A daily wage of 35,000 to 70,000 yen! Even at just 35,000 yen a day, a month's income would be comparable to my husband's previous salary as a manager at a large company. This was an enormous temptation for our family, which was on the verge of bankruptcy. But… that was prostitution! I… my face flushed as I thought about it. How could I do something so degrading? Lost in thought, I browsed several similar links. Without exception, every job advertised offered a tempting price, but every single one involved a prostitute, a "sex worker," with some even offering 50,000 to 100,000 yen a day for women offering SM services . I reluctantly shut down my computer, afraid I might lose control and dial the number.

I started tidying the room, wiping the coffee table while my mind kept replaying the prostitution ad I'd just seen. The 35,000 yen and the term "sex worker" kept popping into my head, my face burning red. I shouldn't let my mind wander while working, but I couldn't help it. Finally, due to my absentmindedness, I broke a vase, shards of glass everywhere. I hurriedly started cleaning up, but because I kept thinking about the 35,000 yen daily wage and the reputation of prostitutes, I cut my finger, blood flowing from the wound on my left index finger. Suddenly, I forgot the pain, forgot about cleaning up the broken glass, threw the broom on the ground, and ran back to the bedroom to turn on the computer.

The moment the glass cut my finger was like a wake-up call, suddenly untying the knots in my mind. I decided to apply for that job at the sex shop. Right now, I felt no shame, no sense of shame; being poor was the only thing that tormented me. I left my country to come to Japan because I loved my husband, but wasn't the initial purpose of marrying him to be able to go abroad and enjoy life? After only a few years of good times, why am I now so worried about daily necessities? If I had known I would be poor after going abroad, I would have preferred to marry a rich man back home. But since I've already come this far in life and there's no going back, I should be realistic. Thinking back to the bitterness of being rejected a few days ago when I groveled for a job paying a few thousand yen a day, what reason do I have to refuse this job paying 35,000 yen a day? Just because it's prostitution? Looking back, wasn't marrying my husband just like a prostitute selling herself? The only difference is that one is a private car and the other is a public bus. Although my husband has moved me before, the undeniable fact is that I was using him. Of course, I still love him and our child. If I had taken this job ten years ago, I admit I was the kind of woman who was only after money and profit, but now, I'm sacrificing myself more for my family. Forget it, I shouldn't think about it anymore. Anyway, there are plenty of Shanghai women selling sex in Tokyo. Compared to them, at least I have legal Japanese citizenship and won't be deported.

The more I think, the more confused I become. My fingers are still bleeding, but tears are streaming down my face. I was searching online for sex shops that sell their bodies, but after much deliberation, I couldn't find the answer to whether my motivation was sacrificing myself for my family or simply a matter of vanity. The decision to become a sex worker was made, the allure of the high salary was simply irresistible.

Found it! It was that sex shop I'd just seen called "Married Women's Romantic Dates." Since their recruitment information was the first thing I saw, I decided to contact them first.

"The phone number is 03-5xx8-6xx5," I read the number aloud to the computer screen as I picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello! This is Tanaka. Who are you looking for?" A man's voice came from the other end, polite and gentle like any Japanese person.

"Hello! Tanaka-kun, my surname is Ito, I…" My face flushed. After all, I'm a woman, and this kind of work is so sensitive for women; my voice trailed off, and I didn't know what to say.

The other person seemed to sense my nervousness and continued gently, "Ms. Ito? Don't rush, please speak slowly."

"Well... I saw your shop is recruiting new staff online, and I... I'd like to apply." At this point, my face flushed red. I couldn't say anything more.

"Oh! I see! Don't be nervous, Ms. Ito. May I ask your age and occupation?" the other person asked politely.

"I'm 35 years old, a full-time housewife," I answered truthfully without hiding anything.

"Very good! Then please allow me to call you Mrs. Ito. Mrs. Ito, since you've seen our recruitment advertisement, you should know the nature of the work, right?" Tanaka seemed to feel that calling me "Ms." was inappropriate and changed her form of address.

I didn't mind, but I felt a little disgusted when he mentioned the nature of the work, but I could only reply, "Yes!"

"Since you know the nature of the work, I won't explain further. I believe you're already prepared. How about this, ma'am, if you have time tomorrow, please come to our shop for an interview. The address is 200 meters straight ahead from the east exit of Ikebukuro Station. It's a three-story building with a huge advertisement that says 'Married Women's Romantic Dates.' I'll be waiting for you in room A2 on the 3rd floor, is that alright?" The man surnamed Tanaka patiently explained to me.

"Okay! So, Mr. Tanaka! What time tomorrow morning?" I quickly added.

"Um… 9:30, I guess! Our shop opens at 9, but I might have some things to take care of, so I'll postpone it a little. Is that alright, Mrs. Ito?" Tanaka asked.

"Okay! Then it's settled! I'll come and bother you again tomorrow!" I said politely.

"You're welcome! Well, I have something else to do, so I'll hang up now. See you tomorrow, Mrs. Ito." The man hung up the phone.

After hanging up the phone, I plopped down on the sofa like a deflated balloon. The bleeding from the cut on my hand had stopped without me noticing, but it still hurt. I was once again caught in a deep dilemma: I had an appointment for a job interview, should I go? Would I really sell myself for money? Although I'm middle-aged and have a more open-minded view of relationships, and I'm not as shy as a young girl, the profession of prostitute is still an insult to traditional Eastern women. Even if you use "woman of the night" instead, it's the same thing. What would I do if my husband found out? I couldn't face him!

Lost in thought, I drifted off to sleep

until the phone rang! It woke me up. It was my son's teacher. The little guy refused to eat at school because the school meal was lamb, and he was punished by being made to stand. He also talked back to the teacher, and the teacher called to complain and ask me to pick him up from school. I checked the time; I had slept until 3 pm! I quickly washed my face, got ready, and went to pick up my son.

I knew my son naturally didn't eat lamb. I quickly apologized to the teacher before bringing my son home. The little guy was terribly upset; he knew he'd throw up if he ate food he didn't want, but the teacher forced him to eat it, which is why he talked back. I knew he was upset, so I could only comfort him and ask him what he wanted to eat at home.

"I want shrimp! And pork chops!" My son was asking for an exorbitant amount; we couldn't afford those things at home!

I almost cried again, but I forced back my tears and smiled, agreeing to my son: "Okay! But it's too late to buy those things for you to cook at home. How about this, we'll just have something simple for the next few nights. Tomorrow I'll go out to earn money, and I'll cook for you the day after, okay?" "Mom, you found a job? That's great! "

Although my son is young, he was happy to hear that I had found a job."Okay! Let's hurry home, Dad should be home from work and waiting for us by now!" I didn't want to talk to my son too much about the job I was going to apply for, so I took his hand and we walked slowly home in the twilight. PS:

I've long wanted to write a story about a Chinese woman working as a prostitute in Japan. Originally, I wanted to continue the story of the streetwalker Yingying, but after much deliberation, I realized it was unrealistic for a woman with such limited education to be fluent in Japanese. Therefore, I created a new character: He Jing, based on He Zhili, a former member of the Chinese table tennis team who married a Japanese man, changed her name to Koyama Chirei, and represented Japan, defeating Deng Yaping. Of course, He Jing is far prettier than He Zhili. If Koyama Chirei were to actually sell herself in Japan, most people wouldn't accept it unless they had a taste for extreme content.

Another reason I'm writing about a Chinese girl working as a prostitute in Japan is that I saw a post introducing an adult film a while ago. The woman, I think her name was "Zhang Li," filmed for Tohoku, and spoke entirely in Chinese throughout the film. Seriously? You go to Japan to sell yourself, and you even film it? And you film it uncensored! And you film it for Tohoku! Are those Japanese devils in Tohoku even human? Very few Japanese actresses would dare to take jobs for Tohoku. You, a Chinese woman, really don't know how to respect yourself! So you all disgrace the Chinese people as soon as you go abroad! Then I'll write about you women who work as prostitutes in Japan.

This story is more about mature women training. I wanted to write a mature women training story when I was writing Zhang Lin's story, but because there were too many flaws, I was very dissatisfied. Some insightful friends foresaw that I was going to write the training part and kindly advised me to give up the vulgar training and return to the theme of mother-son incest. Some friends who like training plots asked me to continue. Finally, I couldn't write anymore. I decided to rewrite two stories to meet the needs of two different types of friends. This can be considered as wholeheartedly serving the people. Of course, as I said in another story about Wang Yan, writing two stories of different themes together will not feel boring, which is also a good thing for me.

Also, I want to explain that because I am lazy and have a lot of things to do, I am writing two stories at the same time this time, so the process is definitely slow. Please forgive me.

The story of He Jing, a prostitute in Tokyo (2)

Ikebukuro prostitute wife dating

Ikebukuro I walked a few steps and I clearly saw a sign written in pink on the roof of an inconspicuous high-rise building. Besides the few words that made me blush, the sign also featured a semi-nude picture of a middle-aged woman in sexy lingerie striking a provocative pose. The woman in the picture was about my age, and I had never imagined that a woman's body could be posed so alluringly. Looking at her lustful eyes, my heart raced. Even as a woman, I felt a sense of being seduced; how much more so for a man?

When I got downstairs, a male waiter stopped me at the door and politely asked, "Excuse me, ma'am, how can I help you?

" My face flushed, and I whispered, "I have an appointment with Mr. Tanaka; I'm here for an interview..."

Before I could finish, the waiter hurriedly said enthusiastically, "I see. Please come this way." He led me to a door marked "Women's Entrance," and said with a smile, "Mr. Tanaka is upstairs in room A2 on the 3rd floor. Please take care!" He then bowed deeply to me politely, and I nodded back politely before starting to walk upstairs.

The women's entrance felt like a typical building's emergency exit, with only stairs and doors on each floor. It was eerily quiet, and I felt like I was walking reluctantly up the stairs to hell.

On the third floor, I entered and began searching for room A2. I observed my surroundings as I searched. The building's interior was spacious, and the layout of the third floor resembled an office building. If I hadn't known it was a brothel and was just passing by, I would have mistaken it for the headquarters of some company.

Finding room A2, I gently knocked on the door. A kind voice from inside, Tanaka, said, "Please come in!"

I forced myself to enter. The room was small, with only a desk. Mr. Tanaka, whom I had spoken to on the phone, was sitting behind the desk, writing something.

Tanaka was in his forties, very thin, and shrewd. He looked up at me and immediately greeted me with a friendly smile.

"You must be Mrs. Ito? Please have a seat!" he said, standing up and pouring me a cup of coffee.

I sat down in the chair opposite Tanaka's desk and took the coffee he offered. Head bowed, I whispered, "Thank you, Tanaka-kun!" Then, for a moment, I didn't know what else to say.

Tanaka smiled and sat down opposite me, looking me up and down with interest. I hadn't told my husband I was going to a job interview today. I'd sneaked out after he went to his part-time job, so I hadn't dressed up specially; I was just wearing my usual pink knit sweater and a plain white long skirt. My hair was casually tied in a ponytail—basically, nothing special. Actually, before deciding to dress so simply for the interview, I was somewhat conflicted. I hoped to pass the interview and earn more money, but I also hoped to give them a reasonable excuse not to hire me, so I wouldn't have to do something shameful and could at least have some peace of mind.

But Tanaka seemed quite satisfied with my expression. He kept nodding as he looked me over. I felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze and lowered my head even further.

"Very good!" Tanaka looked at me for a while and said with a smile, "Mrs. Ito! You are very beautiful! And what's even more remarkable is that your temperament is very close to the kind of newlywed wife that our store is looking for! May I ask how many years you have been married?"

"Eleven years! My child is nine years old!" I answered him casually, not really knowing what to say.

"Oh! That's rare! It's rare that you are 35 years old and have been married for so many years and still look so good! When you first came in, I thought you were not even 30 years old." Hearing Tanaka's praise, I didn't know what to say for a moment, and just nodded and thanked him shyly.

"Well then! Let's talk about our problem!" Tanaka changed the subject, asking, "Mrs. Ito, you already knew about the job at our shop when we talked on the phone yesterday. I'd like to confirm again, are you really okay with this kind of work?"

I was speechless for a moment, a huge desire welling up inside me to refuse the job, but thinking of my family's dire financial situation and my son who had suffered so much, I forced out the words, "No problem!" My heart was weeping, only I knew.

Tanaka, completely oblivious to my odd behavior, seemed even more pleased with my answer. "Very good! I believe Mrs. Ito will make a significant contribution to our business. However, there are two minor issues I need to explain. One is that we must have you undergo a comprehensive medical examination to ensure you are free of any infectious or sexually transmitted diseases before we can hire you. Also, judging from your appearance, you probably haven't worked in this type of establishment before, have you? A detailed employment contract will need to be signed after you familiarize yourself with the work arrangements with your seniors; this will take about 1-2 days. Do you have any questions?"

"Um… Mr. Tanaka, what do you mean by 'familiarizing yourself with the work arrangements'?" I asked, puzzled.

"It's simple. If you pass the medical examination, I will assign one of our best female employees to explain the job duties to you, and you will also have the opportunity to watch some videos of female employees serving customers. If you have any questions, you can ask your seniors. After all, we are a customer-service establishment, and you also need to understand customer etiquette. In short, we will still pay you the salary stated in the job posting for the next few days. Is that alright, Mrs. Ito?" "

I see!" It's just simple job training! And there's a salary involved, so of course I have no problem with it. I nodded quickly. For some reason, as soon as I heard about money, I suddenly felt less nervous

."Then please go to the nearby Shangchuan Hospital for a medical check-up. That hospital handles all the medical check-ups for our staff, and you can get a discount there. I'll be waiting for your good news." Tanaka said with a smile, standing up as if to see me off.

I had no choice but to get up and say goodbye, bowing to Tanaka as we left the building.

After asking the waiter at the door for directions to Kamikawa Hospital, I went straight to this private hospital.

Since it was a small private hospital, there were very few patients. I lowered my head and explained to the nurse that I was an employee of a dating and matchmaking shop for married women, there for a physical examination. The nurse gave me a strange look before leading me to the gynecology examination room. A middle-aged male doctor, who looked to be in his forties, was waiting inside. The nurse quietly explained my purpose to him, closed the door, and left. I was left standing blankly in front of the doctor.

"Hello! I'm Kamikawa," the male doctor greeted me warmly after the nurse left.

"Hello. My surname is Ito," I replied. Seeing that it was a male doctor, I immediately became awkward. My voice became much softer. "Excuse me, will you be examining me?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yes! I'm the only doctor at this hospital responsible for physical examinations. I'm sorry! Mrs. Ito, if you find this inconvenient, there's nothing I can do but ask you to go to another hospital." Dr. Kamikawa smiled slyly. He clearly knew that the brothel I applied to only accepted his examination results, and that's why he said this on purpose. I could only feel helpless.

"No, no, no! It's alright." I quickly explained. For such a high-paying job, it was just a physical examination. Whether the doctor was male or female really didn't matter to me anymore. "So, Dr. Kamikawa, what kind of examination is required?" I asked hesitantly, nervously rubbing my skirt against my thigh.

"Don't be nervous, please sit down!" Kamikawa gestured for me to sit in the chair next to him, handed me a medical examination form, and a pen. "Please review the detailed examination information, and sign your name if you agree!"

I took the form and looked at the examination items:

height,

blood type,

weight

,

bust,

waist,

hips,

skin disease test,

blood disease test,

heart disease test

, reproductive organ test, sexually transmitted disease test

, rectal examination.

The first few items were okay, but when I saw the last two, my face turned red again. I held the form and hesitated for a long time before finally making up my mind, writing my name in the "examinee" column: Ito Shizuka, and handing it back to Dr. Kamikawa.

Kamikawa took it, looked at my signature, smiled, and told me to go to the nurse for a blood test and an electrocardiogram.

When I returned to the dimly lit gynecological examination room after completing those two tests, Dr. Kamikawa still had the same smile he had when I left. He gently asked how my examination results went.

I handed him the electrocardiogram (ECG) results, and he told me, while looking at me, that the blood test results wouldn't be available for an hour. He nodded, put the ECG aside, and, with his stethoscope in hand, asked me to sit down so he could listen to my heartbeat.

I sat obediently in front of Dr. Kamikawa. He gestured for me to lift my pink knitted sweater. Although somewhat reluctant, I did as he said, pulling my shirt down below my chin, letting him run his stethoscope over my left breast.

Even through my close-fitting white bra, the cold stethoscope against my chest still sent a shiver down my spine. Embarrassed, I turned my head away, silently enduring the male doctor's hands rubbing against my breast, just hoping he would finish the examination quickly. He seemed unusually attentive to me, going on and on until five minutes later when he finally stopped his lengthy stethoscope, smiled with satisfaction, removed the stethoscope, and announced that my heart was perfectly normal. He stamped the "qualified" mark on the heart test section of the physical examination results.

From his hand that had just lightly brushed against my bare breasts outside my bra, I could clearly tell that this doctor was not a good person. But I had no choice but to let him do as he pleased for the time being. Although it was just a small physical examination, it was related to whether I would be hired for that extremely tempting job. I found myself starting to disregard everything for money.

"Now, we will check your weight and measurements, Mrs. Ito. Please undress." Although Kamikawa spoke politely, his eyes were greedy.

"What? Take off your clothes? Dr. Kamikawa, I know my weight and measurements. My weight is 58 kilograms. My measurements are…"

Before I could finish, Kamikawa interrupted me, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Ito, you may not understand, but the weight mentioned here is your body weight, and the measurements aren't taken while you're clothed. Those aren't accurate. So…" Kamikawa made a helpless gesture.

This was practically sexual extortion! No male doctor in any hospital would demand such a physical examination from a woman! I was getting angry. Anger surged within me several times, but I managed to suppress it. I didn't say anything more, stood up, turned my back to him, and began to undress, piece by piece. I felt incredibly humiliated. Kamikawa, however, watched with interest as I gradually removed all my clothes until I was completely naked, like he was watching a stripper's performance. Then he took a measuring tape from his desk drawer and handed it to me.

"Mrs. Ito, would you like to measure yourself, or should I help you?" Kamikawa's words were still polite, but the lewd meaning was becoming increasingly blatant.

I took the tape measure, ignoring him, and began measuring my body.

"Breasts are 94 centimeters!" I read the numbers to Kamikawa with annoyance, staring at the dirty tape measure that snaked around my snow-white breasts.

"Wow! Not small at all!" Kamikawa chuckled, filling in the results on the medical report.

"Waist is 70, hips are…100." Seeing these numbers, my anger subsided a little, but a trace of melancholy crept into my heart. Years of being a housewife had left my figure completely different from before, especially my waist and hips. Although they hadn't changed much, they were much larger than before I got married.

Kamikawa recorded everything, occasionally giving my body a lewd look. To avoid his lewd gaze, I tried to keep my legs tightly closed and turn to the side, preventing him from seeing my private parts.

"Your figure sounds absolutely stunning. Now, please measure your height and weight." With that, Kamikawa stood up and walked over to me, leading me to the weighing scale in the corner. He began measuring my height and weight.

"170 centimeters!" Kamikawa exclaimed in admiration. "I had already sensed that Mrs. Ito was a tall and beautiful woman, but I didn't expect you to be 170 centimeters! And that's barefoot! Amazing!"

I didn't respond to Kamikawa's praise. Since coming to Japan, I hadn't seen many women close to my height; most Japanese women were only around 160 centimeters, which had always made me feel quite superior.

"57 kilograms! You see! The actual measurement is a bit off from what you said!" After the measurement, Kamikawa continued filling out the results while muttering, "Based on your height, your figure and weight are basically standard. Please keep it up!" I

ignored him and continued getting dressed with my back to him."Mrs. Ito, don't worry! There are still two tests to be done!" Kamikawa reminded me without looking up, still taking notes. My hand trembled, and the bra I had picked up fell to the ground. I knew very well what the other two tests he was referring to were—tests that would make me feel ashamed even in front of a female doctor.

"Dr. Kamikawa!" I turned to him, pleading. "Please don't embarrass me like that!"

"I don't understand! Oh! You've probably misunderstood! Please don't overthink it, it's just a routine checkup! To be honest, it's very common for women in your profession to undergo this kind of examination, and it's necessary, so please bear with it a little longer!" This time, Kamikawa seemed very sincere, and I didn't know what to do!

"Please sit in that chair!" Seeing that I didn't insist, Kamikawa began his examination that shamed women. He first made me sit in a special black leather chair for gynecological examinations, with my feet on the special footrests, spreading my legs in an M-shape, completely exposing my private parts and anus. This sight made me so ashamed I wanted to bite my tongue off. But a strong willpower supported me to endure it. It was the image of my pitiful son suffering so much and my husband working himself to death to earn money that lingered in my mind, creating this unyielding strength.

The lewdness on Kamikawa's face had vanished. He stared blankly at my private parts, licked his dry lips, and pulled out something that terrified any woman from the medical equipment cabinet: a stainless steel speculum.

I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, and turned my head away, letting this perverted doctor do as he pleased. From now on, I would try not to treat my body as my own. Perhaps this would make my future work as a prostitute easier. In a sense, undergoing this kind of perverted examination wasn't such a bad thing.

The cool, flat speculum began searching for an entrance at my vulva, and I couldn't help but tremble. Kamikawa slowly inserted that terrifying thing into my vagina, beginning to slowly tighten the screws, gradually widening my tightly closed vagina. He continued to comfort me as I trembled, saying, "Mrs. Ito, don't be nervous! It's in now, it'll be over soon!" With my eyes closed, I didn't hear a word he said; tears silently streamed down my face.

The speculum was screwed all the way in, dilating my vagina like an open mouth. Looking through the stainless steel speculum, I could clearly see the entrance to my uterus and the pinkish clitoris inside, glistening with vaginal fluid.

Kamikawa's face contorted. He squatted between my legs, shining a miniature flashlight on my vulva, meticulously observing this rare sight, his mouth practically watering!

"Hurry up and finish!" I cried anxiously, my eyes closed. "He's been watching for so long! When will he finally let me go?!"

My nightmare was far from over!

After observing my vagina for a long time, Kamikawa took out a stainless steel anal speculum and began groping to insert it into my anus.

My delicate anus was being painfully penetrated by the cold anal dilator. I opened my eyes and frowned at Kamikawa's flustered movements. The extreme discomfort of this most intimate area being violated made me protest helplessly, "Dr. Kamikawa! No…it's too dirty there! Please don't do this anymore!" As I spoke, the extreme discomfort of the anal dilator being forced into my anus intensified, and I began to slightly twist my body. This movement amplified the intense filling sensation from the large speculum inside my vagina, causing me to let out a few primal female moans while gripping the armrests of the examination chair tightly.

"Soon! Soon!" Kamikawa mumbled, relentlessly shoving the cone-shaped anal dilator into my anus.

"Ah!" I screamed. The stainless steel anal dilator was very smooth and easily inserted into my body. I had never experienced the discomfort of a foreign object inserted into my anus before, and the pain I felt for the first time was unbearable. The shame I felt was nothing compared to the torment I was enduring; I had no desire to feel ashamed or embarrassed anymore, I just wanted to get rid of the pain.

"Almost done! I'll just take a look!" Kamikawa pressed down hard on my body, which was writhing in discomfort, and used the lever on the anal dilator to slightly widen my anus as if dilating my vagina, while desperately staring at my anus.

"No! Dr. Kamikawa! Don't do this! Please don't!" I cried and begged. I could feel Kamikawa's breathing as he peered into my anus; it was utterly disgusting. I finally couldn't take it anymore and was on the verge of collapse. I started kicking Kamikawa's body, which was squatting between my legs and making me feel incredibly nauseous.

"So beautiful! Oh no, your body is so healthy! Mrs. Ito! I'm so sorry for making you suffer!" Kamikawa was finally satisfied. He stood up and started unscrewing the screws on the speculum inserted into my vagina while apologizing to me. "I'll fill your medical examination form with 'qualified' marks." I

don't know if he said this as the price for satisfying his perverted desires, but I simply couldn't bear it anymore. After he loosened the screws on the speculum, I impatiently pulled out the metal instruments that he had inserted into my two most precious female orifices, ignoring the yellow feces still stuck to the anal dilator, and threw them onto the chair, then started crying while clutching my clothes.

All qualified!

With tears in my eyes, I put on my clothes, took the medical examination form handed to me by Dr. Kamikawa, which was covered with red stamps of "qualified," and didn't say another word to him because of shame, grievance, and anger. I turned and walked out of his gynecological examination room. As I passed the nurse who had led me in at the door, I noticed a mysterious smile on her face. My heart pounded again, and I finally ran out the door.

(To be continued)

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The Story of He Jing, a Prostitute in Tokyo, Part 1 (Updated 2010.7.19)

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