TITLE    : Unequal Exchange Pt. 01
STORYID  : unequal-exchange-pt-01
SUMMARY  : Host's self-control is tested when innocent student visits.
AUTHOR   : TiltingatWindmills@lit
DATE     : 2024-08-10
CATEGORY : non-consent-stories
FLAGS    : h
TAGS     : |tease|denial|tease and denial|reluctance|free-use|


Page 38 of The Patriarch's Guide to Hosting Exchange Students features a short story set in a world where humans can give themselves orgasms. In reality, sexual pleasure is like a tickle and not like an itch. But in this fictional account, sexual feelings are like an itch, and so people scratch that itch on their own. All the time.

It's a ridiculous premise, but it helps you to picture how small changes could create a completely different world, and that's something you need to understand if you're going to host a foreigner from a matriarchal country.

I found myself thinking about the story when I was at the exchange orientation.

Mika was sitting on the opposite side of the table, along with all the other female exchange participants.

Even then I found her enthralling.

She had dark silky hair, round pursed lips, glowing cheeks and averted eyes. She was the most beautiful woman in the room. She may be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

She was younger than me, though not by much. In the flower of her youth as the old saying goes.

We had been taking turns answering questions and she was now trying to describe the male role during sex in her country.

"It's true what you guessed. The woman calls on him when she needs him, and rewards him with occasional orgasms," she paused to correct herself. "Rare might be a better word."

She was speaking her second language, my first, almost fluently, though each tiny hesitation endeared her to me more.

"But physically, what does the man do?" one of my countrymen clarified his question.

Mika blushed deeper.

"His face belongs between her legs," she added.

The women, all visitors, giggled but the young men openly grimaced.

It was shocking after all. Filthy even.

And yet I pictured my own face between Mika's legs and wondered what she might smell like.

When orientation ended the other students went their own ways so I was alone with her on the train ride home. We were partnered for the program.

She asked occasional, polite questions, and I found myself talking more to fill the spaces.

Once, when a passenger reached out to fondle a passing stewardess, Mika gasped aloud, but otherwise managed to contain her shock at any cultural differences.

I didn't know how much people would respect the silver badge which granted her diplomatic privileges, but at least here in the city people kept their distance.

They still stared of course. No one was used to seeing a woman with such a small frame, or such soft features. It made me proud to accompany her. Admittance into the exchange program was rare, and no one could doubt that I must have done something special to be with her.

It was late when we arrived at my home. My family had already gone to sleep, leaving a light on in the kitchen.

I unwrapped a simple meal that my mother had left out for us and when Mika finished she took both our plates to the sink to wash up.

Something about that act seemed so familiar and so feminine, that when she walked past me I fell into old habits and lifted her skirt for a peek.

She pushed the fabric down, and slapped my hand away before I even had a chance to see anything.

I immediately regretted my action.

Page 27 pf the Guide says hosts are not to engage in sexual acts with their Guests, even if the act seems trivial in nature. I was to respect her culture even while she learned about mine.

But perhaps Mika's guide said something else...

She looked flustered and blushed more even than she had at the orientation.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I know that's not how the women here behave. You wanted to see under my skirt?"

Before I had time to decide how to respond she closed her eyes, as if too ashamed to be mentally present in the room, and slowly began lifting up her skirt. When the fabric was just above her waist she stopped and held it there waiting.

I almost gasped.

Her panties were a fine black lace with a small pink bow in the front. Thin straps held up her stockings and pressed deliciously into the softness of her perfect legs.

Mika's underwear suggested a languid decadence that did not exist in my country. How much did that lace cost? How were the straps removed? Surely it would slow things down?

My eyes were drawn to the triangle where her legs met her underwear. When I was a guest in her country, would she expect me to take care of her with my tongue?

As much as I hate to admit it, the forbidden thought thrilled me.

"Thank you, that's enough," I managed to say, resisting the urge not only to stare for longer but to take things further.

I had not been taken care of since I pulled our housekeeper aside yesterday, and I was cursing myself for not having used her again before I left for orientation early this morning.

When Mika lowered her skirt and opened her eyes the first thing she checked was my crotch and I felt a rare embarrassment at my erection.

"We should get to bed" I muttered.

I showed her to my room. It had been decided that my brothers would all sleep in the second room, leaving Mika and I alone in the first.

She went into the other bed with her clothes on. Perhaps they slept that way where she's from?

As I settled in to sleep I thought again of the short story and imagined how easy life would be if I could take care of myself with my own hand.

When I woke in the morning, my member hard and throbbing, Mika was already up, brushing her teeth at the small sink in the corner.

She was wearing fuzzy pink pants and a matching top, presumably her pyjamas. I admired the swell of her ass under the soft fabric and imagined pulling it down roughly and bending her over the side of the bed to bring myself some relief.

But I would not allow myself to be seen as a barbarian. We were told this was how people in her female-led nation thought of us foreigners.

When we stepped into the kitchen I found my brothers and father ready to leave for the factory and introduced them to Mika quicky before they left. My mother told me that the housekeeper wouldn't be in that day on account of a cold, which was a subtle warning to me that if I wanted relief I would have to find it at work, or by stopping at a clinic on my way home.

I took Mika out and showed her how to use the streetcar, standing between her and the other male passengers and checking multiple times that her badge was visible.

I dropped her off at her workplace, making sure that she found her desk and checking in briefly with her coworkers before leaving. I made it to my office before the work bell rang.

Several times throughout the day I considered pulling aside June or Felicity or some other female colleague and having them satisfy me in the break room. June freely offered her assistance at one point when she saw me glancing in her direction, but the truth was that the office girls held less interest today than they had just the day before. They were all the same: buxom and blonde, with the odd redhead among them. But there was nothing exciting to them as there was with Mika. No mystery. And so I turned June down.

I'm not sure if I have ever felt this way, but it's like I <i>wanted</i> to be horny for Mika. To enjoy staring at her body more fully. Even though I knew I was forbidden from having her. I can see now that it was a poor way to handle my impulses, but it wasn't something I thought through consciously.

That night at the dinner table my family welcomed Mika warmly. My brothers stared at her, but not particularly lustfully. Perhaps her exotic looks were not to their liking. Or perhaps my father had warned them how seriously the government took the diplomatic status she had been granted.

We all laughed when Mika told us about the customs from her land, and she laughed along graciously, even at herself. Her warm smile and childish blush blossomed each time she misspoke an unfamiliar word or asked about slang she had heard on the street.

Often my eyes caught hers during this time. We shared two languages, and a willingness to adventure that the rest of my family lacked. I believe there was a connection there from the beginning.

When we went to bed that night she once again went under the sheets in her day clothes. Realizing that she was changing beneath the sheets I told her she could change in the room and I would step outside if she wanted privacy.

Perhaps she took this as a challenge. Or maybe she worried that I had called her out on some social faux pas.

"But that's not what you would do for a woman from around here, is it?" she asked.

"No," I admitted. "But you're not from here."

"While I'm here, and I want to act how your women would act" she said meekly.

As if to prove her point she stood out of bed and began unbuttoning her blouse. Her fingers trembled charmingly as she opened herself to me.

Her bra was white lace, with frills and adornments much like the panties I had seen yesterday. Her breasts were full and larger than I had guessed from her modest clothing.

Next she pulled off her skirt, wiggling her hips as she did.

Any other woman in the whole country I would have ordered to turn for me, but Mika was special in more ways than one.

I saw her eyes flit to my erection under the sheets and she paused as if expecting me to come and take her. And of course that is exactly what I wanted to do.

But even as she stood there, a look of innocent fear on her face, her breasts heaving in suspense, I did not give in. At last she bent to pick up a nightgown and slipped it over her head before sliding under her covers.

"Goodnight," she whispered.

"Goodnight" I replied, clenching my fists as I tried to ignore the iron brand burning stiff and straight between my thighs.

The next morning I woke early and went to seek out the housekeeper.

My family is not wealthy, but wages for female workers are low, and four days a week we paid someone to help cook and clean.

Charity was her name. She looked young for her age and knew how to serve a mostly male family.

When I stumbled into the kitchen she was already on her knees, her mouth stuffed full of my brother's cock. Her one tit was out of her dress and it swayed with the movement of her head. She glanced at me between stray golden curls of hair and held up a single finger, as if to say that she would only be one more minute. But the door opened behind me and Mika emerged.

My brother, who had shown great forbearance in his dealings with Mika, did not feel any compunctions about being serviced in front of our guest.

He allowed Charity to finish, and wiped a final drop off the tip of his member onto her cheek, which she duly licked up.

Now it was my turn to blush.

But Mika took the incident in her stride, remaining silent and following my lead.

I quickly insisted to Charity that we would only be needing breakfast and we left the house earlier than needed.

Mika never brought the incident up.

After work that night my mother went out to run errands and Mika offered to wash the dishes.

I watched her from behind as she worked. Watched as her skirt swayed gently as she scrubbed. I tried to picture her underwear under the pleated fabric.

Would she remove her clothes again for me tonight? I secretly hoped that it would become our evening ritual. Having her undress before me while I watched with an unmistakable hard-on.

Without thinking I felt drawn towards her. Her hair smelled floral and wild, a scent I had never encountered before.

I gently placed a hand on both of her hips.

She stopped moving. She stopped breathing.

"How often do women in your country get serviced by their men?" I heard the words come out of my mouth against my greater judgment.

Still staring ahead she answered, "As often as they like."

"And how often do you like?"

I took a step closer so that my hardness pressed into her from behind.

"Almost every day. Sometimes more than once," she replied.

So she also must be feeling desperate I thought to myself.

She turned around, her hands still dripping water. She didn't try to avoid me, my cock now pressed against her stomach.

"Do you need someone to take care of you, Adam?"

It was the first time she had used my name.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Ask Mommy nicely," she stared unflinchingly into my eyes.

I was caught completely off guard by the confidence in her voice. No one would ever use that word here sexually, but it made sense for a land where dominant love was female.

"Please take care of me, Mika" was the most I could muster.

"Please take care of me..." she bit her lip and waited.

"Please take care of me, Mommy," I complied.

She wiped her hands off on my shirt and then reaching down, slipped inside my pants and grabbed my cock commandingly.

I cannot describe how confusing I found her. This tiny young woman, straining her neck to keep eye contact with me, her delicate hand unable to fully grasp my member, but insisting on being called Mommy.

She pumped her hand up and down for less than a minute before I began to feel it coming on. Then she suddenly stopped.

No woman had ever done that.

Handjobs were a way to satisfy men quickly, to keep them from trying something more forceful.

I stood there, staring into her impenetrably dark eyes, trying to understand what she wanted.

"Don't stop," I whispered.

She continued looking into my eyes, but did not move.

"Please," I added.

Satisfied, she started again, this time accelerating without pause until my breath grew ragged.

She stood on her tiptoes and leaned forward so that her breasts pressed against me.

"Come for Mommy" she whispered into my ear a moment before I began pumping my seed into my pants.

When she finished I realized that I had been groping her ass roughly as I came, and gingerly removed my hands.

"Did you still want to watch me undress tonight?" she asked coyly.

I nodded.

"Then be a good boy and get cleaned up while I finish here", she said, wiping her hand on the inside of my slacks.

***

I worked late the following day and by the time I finally returned home Mika was already in the bedroom.

When I walked in I saw her under the covers and cursed myself for missing her undress.

But when I finished brushing my teeth and stepped into my bed she surprised me by pulling the duvet back and emerging still in her work outfit.

She didn't grin, or comment on what she was doing, but simply began undressing.

Did she think that we held to some custom where this nightly performance was necessary? Or perhaps she was again trying to demonstrate that she wasn't afraid.

I was hardly going to argue the point.

Instead I smiled, watching her slowly disrobe. As always I tried to imagine what was hiding under her bra, picturing small or large nipples in turn and deciding what would suit her best.

When she got to taking off her skirt I saw her wetness for the first time. A large damp patch at the bottom of her underwear. Had I never noticed it before because her panties had always been dark? Or was tonight her first time showing arousal?

I couldn't be sure, but I did know that she was soaking wet.

"Where I'm from, if a woman ever had this little clothing on, a man would certainly be naked," she remarked with quiet fortitude.

I was fit and young, and secretly wanted Mika to see me. All of me.

I sat up to face her, removing my shirt, then my socks and pants, and finally my underwear.

She bit her lip when she looked between my legs.

"Is that a normal size here?" she asked.

"Maybe a little larger than normal," I replied.

"Do you need me to touch it again?"

I nodded.

It was wrong of course, asking her to do this. But she had offered and I lacked the willpower to turn her down.

She came closer and knelt between my legs. With tentative fingers she reached out and stroked me.

"You're being a bad boy, you know? Breaking the rules."

I nodded.

"I'm not sure I should reward such a bad boy" she slowed her stroking.

I was reminded of her tricking me into calling her 'Mommy' yesterday. Something about the experience made me uncomfortable. The way her teasing empowered her over me.

So I reached behind her head and grabbing a knot of her hair, firmly brought her head down toward my groin.

She looked panicked at first, but then opened her small mouth and took me in.

It was clear that she had no experience at this, and yet even so it felt divine.

I removed my hand and she began bobbing up and down on my shaft on her own accord.

"Open wider," I instructed her, happy to be back in charge again.

I felt guilt mixed with pleasure as I saw her struggle to take me deeper. A strand of saliva spilled over her bottom lip and dangled in the air from her chin.

She was so beautiful. So sophisticated. But she gagged just like any other woman. It felt like defiling a princess.

She had stopped any teasing. If anything she seemed to be doing the opposite, placing one hand under my balls and lifting them ever so slightly while the other gripped the base of my shaft and pumped urgently.

I didn't warn her but at the last second she pulled her mouth away all the same.

My ejaculate shot forth, spraying her chin, her neck and her chest.

She was still gasping for air as I collected myself.

She wiped the cum off her chin with her index finger and looked at me, hoping I would tell her how to clean up.

"The women in your country... they would...?"

She stopped and let the question hang in the air.

Having just cleared my head, I wish I could have told her that they washed up in a sink, but even though I felt shame for my culture and for what I had just done, I felt like lying would be even worse. And besides, she had seen what Charity had done yesterday.

"They would swallow it," I answered at last. "But you don't have to if you don't like it."

I could see her repressing feelings of revulsion, and I felt a sense of rejection that she didn't want to lick up my ejaculate. But with all the dignity she could muster she cleaned off her finger, and then began scooping the rest of my cum off her chest and licked it up as well.

"Not as bad as I thought," she gave half a smile.

I wanted to kiss her. She was so goddam cute. So unconquerable.

But instead I just laughed a little and let her go sheepishly back to bed.

The next few days I took every chance I could get to be alone with Mika. And each time I got her alone she offered to take care of me with her mouth.

Her technique improved, and although she never seemed to enjoy herself, she never complained either.

One time I woke before her, the sun rising with my morning wood, and I simply walked over to her and pushed my hardness against her lips. She barely showed surprise at waking this way, simply taking me in her mouth and cupping my balls until I finished in the back of her throat.

This was of course how many couples behaved, but it irked me that I could not pursue her openly, and I felt too ashamed to cross the final threshold and take her fully.

As for Mika, she seemed content with our arrangement. I was very defensive of her with my brothers, and she appreciated being guarded from them, or anyone we ran into in public. I asked if her coworkers gave her trouble, and she simply told me that people behaved within the bounds of the culture and she was adapting to it. But it didn't stop me from glaring at her male colleagues when I dropped her off in the mornings.

I surprised myself with these feelings of jealousy. I wondered if someone else had groped her. Even I hadn't felt her breasts yet, despite having been tempted every single time that she knelt in front of me.

Nor had I seen her naked. Even though she stripped into her underwear while I watched every night, she never went further, despite every indication that she was overwhelmingly aroused.
<hr pg="2" />The problem finally came to a point one Monday night. Mika had spent the weekend sightseeing with some friends of hers on exchange in another city. I had offered to come along and chaperone but she insisted that she didn't need a babysitter when they were all together.

She departed Friday directly after work, and didn't come home Sunday night. She left a message at the house saying that she would go straight to the office on Monday morning and to not expect her back till evening.

I suppose it was wrong of me, but I felt jilted and lonely. Sure there were opportunities to be with other women, but I only had eyes for my precious little Mika.

When she returned that night I was waiting for her in my room, feeling fit to burst, like a shaken up soda can.

I had planned to act nonchalant, and ask how her weekend went, but when she walked in the room there was an electric tension, like we were standing under buzzing transmission lines during a storm.

She must have not packed her office attire because she was wearing a stunning silk dress. When she removed a silk scarf it revealed a dangerous amount of cleavage and she looked sheepish as if acknowledging that it hadn't been a good idea for travel.

I walked towards her on unsteady legs, with a parched mouth that I didn't trust with words.

"I'm sorry I was gone so long. Do you need me to take care of you?" she asked.

I shook my head 'no' and placed an unsteady hand on the exposed skin of her collarbone.

She bit her lip nervously.

I leaned down and kissed her on the neck. I could feel her fingers entwine in the back of my hair, which I took as encouragement.

Gently pushing aside the straps of her dress, I watched as it fell to the floor in a pile of fabric.

Her breasts, finally revealed, seemed unreal to me. Mika's nipples pointed ever so slightly up and outwards. They were pink and puffy and more inviting than anything I had seen in my life. I took one and then the other deep into my mouth, sucking desperately on them while Mika cooed encouragingly above me.

I felt strange kneeling beneath her in order to do this. As my tongue swirled around her areola, she looked down on me with a motherly smile, brushing the hair on my forehead. There was an unpleasant dissonance again - I should be the man who she was looking up at - and so I simply picked her up and held her in the air. She squealed at first and then moaned as I nibbled again lustfully on her breasts.

Then I set her back down and tugged at her panties until they slipped off her hips and down her legs.

She was perfectly smooth. Every other woman I had been with had a thick thatch of hair in the place where Mika simply had nothing.

I looked at her cleft which seemed to invite me to lick it. Cautiously I reached down and stroked her. She groaned and swayed as I did and I thought she might faint.

I looked at the clear liquid on my finger fearfully. It smelled different from the musk I remembered from other women. Sweet, almost appetizing. How could that be?

I seemed unable now to avoid thinking about what she would ask me to do for her when I arrived in her homeland. And even though the thought passed through my mind, I couldn't bring myself to taste it yet.

Instead I laid her out on the bed, and then flipped her over with her ass in the air. I pulled off my trousers while she waited and then slid my cock back and forth across her entrance. I savored the buttery sensation of her skin on mine and she trembled in pleasure as I teased her.

Then I took her for the first time.

Despite her wetness, it was tighter than I had ever experienced, and she cried out loudly. I thought she might adjust after a few more thrusts but she was so vocal that I reached for her panties, wet as they were, and shoved them in her mouth. She allowed me to do this but kept moaning through the soaked lace all the same.

I could not be sure if I was hurting her. The only indication that perhaps she was enjoying herself was the way she grabbed at her own breasts with one free hand.

As for me, it was a new sensation to be gripped this tightly by a woman's body. Every time I pulled out it felt like she was trying to suck me back in again.

I groped her ass and then slid my hand across her hips and her waist, finally grabbing a handful of her breasts and eliciting another muffled cry from her. I could not get enough of her body. I wanted to squeeze all of her all at once.

I wish I could have gone all night but her tightness overcame me and before I could pause to extend the evening, I felt that I had crossed the line of no return.

I thrust until I reached the end of her tunnel, which could not nearly accommodate my entire length, and stopped moving while my body's contractions filled her to overflowing with my seed. She slumped forward like a heap of clothing.

When I pulled out from her, my cum dripped in gobs from her gaping pink hole, and I felt the strange guilt of one who had despoiled a piece of art in a fit of emotion.

But after the fact, Mika showed no signs that I had violated our relationship, however you might define it.

She did ask a curious question that evening as we both lay in our separate beds.

"Adam, are the women in your land not... driven to distraction by never being satisfied?"

I was puzzled by this question but let her continue.

"After speaking to the other exchange participants, it seems that men here make no effort to give their partners orgasms."

"Well it seems to me that men are in greater need of relief than women, and usually a woman's needs are met... incidentally. Women are satisfied when men pursue their own satisfaction."

"So you never touch the woman's clitoris when you have intercourse?"

Here she used a word in her language, seeing as there was no direct translation in mine. After much confusion I realized that women, at least those from Mika's homeland, needed stimulation in a certain place to achieve orgasm. Penetration alone was not enough.

And so the next morning, when I took her again I gingerly reached down and searched for the spot she had told me about. She guided me there with her hand until a sharp intake of breath indicated that I had found it.

I felt strange, having never explored the area before. The place that was most sensitive was rubbery and swollen and of course everything was slick with her wetness. I wish I could say I brought her satisfaction but it seemed so unnatural to touch her in this way that I'm afraid I only succeeded in working her up more. In fact her cries became so desperate whenever I touched the area that I was certain only a little more stroking would have finished her, but I always stopped short.

After I had done this during a few separate episodes she started begging for me to bring her to climax.

"Please Adam, please don't stop. Fuck I'm so close, please I'm begging you."

She spoke in her own language in those moments - they were the only times during those months when I heard it from her.

But as enticing as it was, hearing her beg with no regard for her dignity, I did not give in.

When I finished and began pulling out, her pleading became more pathetic. "No no, please don't take your beautiful cock away from me. Please, I was so close."

I must admit that I took a perverse pleasure in teasing her. She became so desperate for sex - I have never seen a woman in that state before - and I became addicted to her neediness.

At night while I drifted off to sleep I heard her moaning and rolling around in the other bed, unable to find peace. Once I awoke and saw her humping her own pillow in a futile effort to end the suffering I had imposed on her.

In the early days she would try to seduce me with subtle looks, or by exposing some skin when no one was looking. Then slowly she became more and more overt, pulling me aside from my family and fondling me to hardness so that I would fuck her.

When I did she lost all sense of shyness and decorum, saying the filthiest things without hesitation.

"Fuck your cock is so huge. I hope when I leave you can never go back to fucking the women here. I want you to be spoiled by me forever. They don't feel as good as me, do they? Tell me the truth Adam. Say it!" she would tease as she squeezed her walls tighter around my shaft.

When I orgasmed inside her she would sometimes sink to her knees and try to suck me back to hardness. I was appalled watching her degrade herself, licking her white cream off my wilting cock, and only rarely succeeding in eliciting a second round.

But the more desperate she became the more I needed to know how far I could push her.

It was a game that we both played together, but in the game she was only my toy.

And the game became a compulsion. I fucked her on her bed, in the bathroom, on my family's kitchen table. I ordered her to remove her diplomatic badge and risked exposing her to the lusting hands of every man next to her on the streetcar so I could slip my fingers under her panties and tease her sex mercilessly while she bit her own hand to stop from crying out.

You might think that I would want to satisfy her, seeing that when we arrived in her country the tables would be turned. But she was so enamored with my cock, always saying that she had never seen one so large and so perfect, that I became confident she could not completely give up fucking me. And besides, I truly believe she enjoyed being tormented. I just needed to end the game before she left.

And so, on our last night together in my homeland, I brought her to the edge of orgasm again and again. I teased her clit until she was sure that this was the time I would give her what she craved and she called out, only for me to pull back at the last moment.

As I brought her closer I watched the ecstasy on her face. Her hair stuck to her forehead with perspiration, and her pupils dilated making her eyes appear even larger. I suddenly found I could no longer control myself and came violently inside her.

When I finished panting and pulled myself out she looked back at me with those big sad eyes, the eyes of a betrayed puppy.

But as happened so often after cumming, I became disgusted with myself and could not bear to touch this beautiful woman so indecently. Even though she asked sweetly, I knew I could not bring myself to do it.

When I woke the next morning, Mika was already out of her bed. I strangely heard the sound of a woman moaning, and assumed perhaps it was Charity. I went out to check if Charity was indeed there, but she was kneeling with her head clamped between Mika's thighs.

On the final morning, Mika had at last given up on me and turned to another woman for the help she needed.

Mika was wearing a full dress, so I could not see much other than her legs where the skirt was bunched up, but the sight was still incredibly erotic. Her flushed cheeks, parted lips, and her proud posture were all on display for me as she buried her fingers deep in Charity's golden hair.

I could tell by the arch of Mika's back that she was close to cumming already, and when she began shuddering I knew she was finally finding her satisfaction. Her screams woke the house and I heard stirring in the other room, though no one came out, perhaps thinking that I should be left alone to break the government rules in peace.

When Mika finished, Charity slowly stood up, her mouth and chin slick with juices.

To my surprise, Mika kissed her passionately, and began fumbling with Charity's skirt, pulling it to the ground.

I would have expected Mika to be spent, but she still seemed hungry. When her fingers found Charity's entrance I heard the slippery sound even from across the room. Mika took her time, teasing Charity as I had teased Mika. She studied Charity's face, adjusting her pace and touch to Charity's moans.

I wanted nothing more as I watched than to pull Mika aside and plunge myself into Charity's exposed cunt, and I hated myself for my weakness.

When Charity came, Mika kissed her again, and then licked her fingers clean. Charity grinned, happy like a cat in a sunspot.

Then Mika glanced over at me. She must have known I was watching. She didn't look angry, just spent.

And then she left.

There was not a word of goodbye, or a glance over the shoulder.

***

I saw Mika two weeks later. We were all at the Matriarchal orientation, and it was now my turn to stumble along in a foreign language.

I almost gasped when Mika walked in the room.

She was wearing high heels and a pencil skirt, an outfit which I had never seen before that moment, and a white blouse with a suggestive neck line.

Her eye shadow was gold, and her lipstick was glossy and dark.

It suddenly occurred to me that she had been dressing down the whole time she was with me.

But her manner as well was different. Speaking in her native tongue she was more funny, more clever, more confident.

I had always felt like I was sitting across from royalty. Now it felt like I was sitting across from a goddess.

I had a letter that I was hoping to give her - apologizing and asking for a fresh start - but she left for lunch quickly with some girlfriends and I never got the chance at the end of the day.

I would be making the trip to the train station near her home alone. Apparently no one was worried about the male participants being accosted on their travels.

The handbook says that 25% of men who go on exchange choose to stay in their host country.

Zero percent of women stay.

I understand why women would not make their home here. They are not allowed to travel abroad, they are told what to do, and made available to almost any man that wants them.

But why would a man, who can have as much sex as he wants, ever choose to live in a country where he is subservient?

I was about to find out.

<b>Note from author:</b> Part 2 is on the way soon so let me know if you have suggestions for what you'd like to see next!

