Hi,I’m a Japanese man in Tokyo offering sensual massage services exclusively for women.
Tips for Foreign Women on Sexual Massage Services in Tokyo
A Message from a Korean-American Woman Seeking a Submissive Experience
A few months ago, I had the pleasure of meeting a lovely woman who reached out to me through my Contact form.
She was a 29-year-old Korean-American engineer with a curious mind and a soft spot for new experiences—including soft BDSM.
Here’s what she wrote in Contact form:
Nickname: ●●
Age: 29
Height: 165cm
Weight: 61–65kg
Nationality: US
Occupation: Engineer
Preferred Area: Shinjuku
Service Request:
Hug
Spooning
Kissing
Erotic oil massage
Yoni massage
Fingering
Oral sex (cunnilingus)
BDSM
Message:
“Is Sunday available?”
Let’s call her Emma (not her real name, of course).
Although she had never experienced sensual massage or BDSM before, her curiosity was clearly stronger than her nerves.
We exchanged a few emails beforehand, and I could sense her excitement—mixed with just a little hesitation—through her words.
She said:
“I want to try different naughty things, but if anything feels wrong or uncomfortable, I’ll let you know.”
Honestly, I loved that. Communication and consent are everything—especially when you’re stepping into new territory like soft BDSM.
By the way, for those unfamiliar:
BDSM stands for Bondage, Discipline, Sadism, and Masochism (Yes, I borrowed that from Wikipedia. Don’t judge me).
BDSM for Beginners in Tokyo: A Safe and Sensual Guide for Submissive Women
Now, Emma probably had seen some videos or read about BDSM online, but trying it in real life is a completely different story, right?
That’s why many women prefer to explore this side of themselves in a safe, non-judgmental environment.
And that’s where I come in.
As a seasoned sensual massage provider, my mission is to gently turn nervousness into excitement—and sometimes even pleasure beyond expectations.
What happened during her first soft BDSM massage experience in Shinjuku, Tokyo.
Heading to a Love Hotel in Shinjuku for a Submissive Massage Session
It was 11 AM in Shinjuku, Tokyo.
I was walking briskly through the cold, both hands buried deep in my coat pockets, shoulders hunched against the icy wind.
A cold wave had hit the city, and the weather report even mentioned possible snow. My breath turned white in the air, and the wind stung my cheeks.
And yet—despite the freezing temperatures, my heart was burning with excitement.
Why? Because I was on my way to meet a woman who had requested a submissive massage session.
Staying calm is just not an option.
This time, the woman was a Korean-American visiting Japan.
In my mind, I pictured someone more dazzling than any K-pop idol. My mood? Sky-high.
TWICE, BLACKPINK, NewJeans…
I could name a few groups, sure, but I had absolutely no idea what any of them looked like.
Realizing that gave me a sudden stab of self-disappointment—and my mood dipped a little as I pushed through the chaos of Shinjuku’s west exit.
Just then, a message came in from her:
“I’m about to take a shower. Can you come a little later? I got lost on the way.”
Apparently, she’d gotten turned around in the labyrinth that is Shinjuku Station.
Even though I was already just a few steps away from the hotel, I had no choice but to wait.
Honestly, I don’t blame her.
Shinjuku Station is notoriously complex. Even I, a Tokyo local, have ended up in basement dessert sections when all I wanted was to exit to the street.
For someone new to Japan, it probably feels like a full-blown underground dungeon.
I killed some time at a convenience store, flipping through some (ahem) adult magazines, and once I figured enough time had passed, I headed to the hotel.
The building didn’t look much like a typical love hotel—more like something cute and discreet.
Inside, there was a front desk with a middle-aged woman seated behind it.
“I’m here to see someone in room 311. May I go up?”
She gave a polite nod. “One moment, I’ll call the room to confirm.”
“A guest is here to see you. Is it okay if I send him up?”
I silently hoped she’d understood enough Japanese, and apparently she had.
“All right, take the elevator to the third floor. Room 311. Enjoy your stay.”
I smiled and replied with a more socially acceptable, “Thank you,” and stepped into the elevator.
When I reached the third floor, the hallway didn’t feel like a love hotel at all—more like a quiet little office.
Meeting Emma, a Korean-American Beauty, and Preparing for the Session
I found room 311 and took a deep breath before knocking. About ten seconds later, the door slowly opened halfway.
Standing there was a woman wrapped in a white bathrobe, her long black hair sleek and shiny, and a pair of oversized glasses sitting delicately on her nose. Her look was gentle but captivating—an elegant contrast of modesty and mystery. She greeted me with a soft “Hello,” sounding a little nervous.
Though she was also Asian, there was something distinctly exotic about her vibe—perhaps the unique blend of Korean roots and American presence.
I greeted her back, and she let me into the room.
Meeting someone for the first time in a hotel room—just the two of us—can feel awkward, especially if there’s even a hint of submissive energy in the air. And yes, I could sense it from her, like a subtle breeze of anticipation mixed with shyness.
Trying to ease the tension, I kept my tone relaxed and friendly as I took off my coat and washed my hands. I asked how much Japanese she understood, and she replied, “Not much at all.”
Oh boy. But that’s okay—I’ve navigated tougher situations.
I mean, if someone asked me, “What kind of movies do you like?” I could confidently answer, “I love… porno movies.” That counts as English fluency, right?
She had already taken a shower, so we moved smoothly into massage mode. I warmed my hands with hot water—no one likes icy fingers on their skin—and prepared the space by laying out fresh towels and adjusting the room temperature.
As I moved around the small room, she stood quietly, observing me with curiosity—like a cat watching a human set up a very strange kind of ritual. And she wasn’t wrong. In a few moments, I’d be using my hands to help her feel deeply relaxed… and maybe something more.
This was Shinjuku, Tokyo. And the line between relaxation and pleasure can get beautifully blurry here.
Of course, the pressure was real too. I wasn’t just giving a massage—I was trying to connect, to read her energy, to make her feel safe yet subtly submissive, comfortable yet sensually open. But I had confidence in my technique, sharpened by experience and, let’s be honest, fueled by a few delusions of grandeur.
I told myself: You are a legendary massage therapist. The chosen one. The God-blessed master of soft touch and even softer domination. Own it.
With that little lie whispered to my ego, I began.
I gently asked her to lie on her back, and she moved slowly, making sure her position was comfortable. The bathrobe she wore shifted slightly, revealing soft curves that filled the room with a quiet sensuality.
The urge to wrap my arms around her from behind and hold her tightly was strong—but I resisted. First, I had to help her relax. That was step one.
I asked her to expose just her arm so I could start with something simple, and helped her take off the robe from her shoulder.
That’s when I noticed it—an intricate tattoo covering her entire right arm. Something between a bird and a mythical pattern, woven into her skin with bold lines and quiet meaning.
“Do you… not like it?” she asked softly, a little insecure.
I could tell she was worried—maybe she’d been judged before in Japan, where tattoos can still carry stigma. Especially in more traditional circles.
But I smiled and reassured her.
Of course not. I’m not the kind of man who gets scared off by ink.
Especially not in a city like Tokyo, and especially not when you’re in a love hotel with a beautiful, slightly nervous woman whose energy flickers between soft curiosity and the desire to surrender—just a little.
After all, soft BDSM isn’t about pain—it’s about presence. Attention. Touch. And creating a space where letting go feels natural.
And that’s exactly what I planned to do.
Soft Touches, Submissive Whispers – Aroma Massage Begins in Shinjuku
With everything prepared, I began the aroma massage from her legs.
Her calves and thighs were full and firm, with a sensual softness that pushed gently back against my palms.
As the oil warmed her skin, my fingers glided more smoothly, melting tension from deeper layers of muscle.
Emma lay face-down, hugging a pillow as she quietly surrendered to my touch.
There was something peaceful in her stillness—like a woman unwinding at a spa after a long day of work.
But this wasn’t just a relaxation massage.
Not here. Not in this love hotel tucked away in the heart of Shinjuku, Tokyo.
She was about to experience something… a little more intimate.
A soft descent into the world of pleasure and surrender.
Call it soft BDSM, or simply the art of trust through touch.
When my hands reached her shapely hips, I massaged them gently through her lace panties.
Her skin was silky but full of subtle tension—like a cushion just waiting to be pressed.
Sliding my fingertips along the edge of her underwear, I let the warmth of my touch seep underneath.
It was like touching smooth silk over a velvet cushion—delicate and resilient all at once.
Her body tensed for a brief moment, instinctively.
Then came a quiet, breathy murmur:
“Good…”
That single word told me everything I needed to know—she was starting to let go.
I moved to her back and shoulders, working through the knots she’d mentioned earlier, taking my time.
And then, gently, I asked her to turn over.
As she lay on her back, the loose folds of her bathrobe shifted, outlining the soft curves of her chest.
The sight made my heart skip—an involuntary reaction I didn’t try to hide from myself.
But I didn’t go there.
Not yet.
I started from the lower half of her body again.
Her long legs, once slightly guarded, now opened almost invitingly.
There was no resistance in her posture—only quiet anticipation.
As my fingers approached her inner thighs, I felt it—an unexpected heat, a silky texture different from the oil.
A whisper of her desire, not yet spoken, but fully alive.
Slowly, I traced a line up her side—past her waist, up to her arms—letting her know, with every touch,
that she could be soft here.
That she could be submissive in a way that felt natural.
Safe.
Wanted.
Her First Time with BDSM
She told me she was deeply submissive and curious about BDSM—especially about being completely at someone’s mercy.
“I want to be used… to be taken roughly,” She confessed as such in an email.
To answer that plea, I gently took both her wrists and wrapped them in soft bondage tape, restricting her movement. Then I slid an eye mask over her eyes, plunging her into darkness.
She didn’t resist. If anything, she seemed to crave this surrender.
From this moment on, her body belonged entirely to me.
Overwhelmed by the power I suddenly held, I pressed down on her restrained wrists and firmly grabbed the soft swell of her chest through her bathrobe.
A soft moan—“Ahh…!”—broke the quiet of the room, echoing sweetly like music.
I watched her reaction closely from above, slowly kneading her breasts in circular motions.
Her arms, pinned above her head, trembled slightly. Her expression flickered with something between hesitation and desire—as if she wanted to say “Stop,” but didn’t really mean it.
There was something deliciously forbidden about this moment. And that, in turn, only fueled my own arousal.
To heighten the pleasure, I lay down beside her, slipping an arm around her waist. Bringing my lips close to her ear, I let her feel the heat of my breath—slow, deliberate, intimate.
At the same moment, a whimper escaped her lips—torn between shame and pleasure.
I slid my fingers inside her robe, tracing the warm skin beneath. She shuddered at the first touch.
Slowly, my fingertips moved upward to her breasts, sinking into their soft curves.
Every time I brushed against a sensitive spot, I could feel her breath catch and her body tense beneath my touch.
When I gently pinched one nipple, her body jolted, and she let out a high, sweet moan.
“Ahhh…”
Her response thrilled me. I kissed her ear, inhaling the subtle sweetness of her scent, and began to tease the hardened bud with my fingers, making it roll and twitch under my touch.
Time slowed between us, melting into a warm haze of shared sensation.
Sliding my hand lower, I parted her bathrobe to reveal a pair of panties that barely covered anything—provocative, perverted, and perfect.
She was completely bare beneath them, her smooth skin and aroused slit visible.
When I let a finger glide along that delicate line, her wetness coated me instantly—slippery and warm, eager and alive.
She was as turned on as I was—pressing her thighs against my hardened arousal as if craving contact.
“You want more?” I whispered into her ear.
She gave the faintest nod.
A true submissive—eager to obey, craving domination.
I told her to get on all fours.
Still blindfolded and bound, she managed to kneel and raise her hips, exposing herself shamelessly despite it being our first time meeting.
The sheer surrealness of this sight—her half-naked body in such a vulnerable pose—stirred something primal in me.
Kneeling behind her, I teased her with words, describing how exposed she looked. My fingers traced lightly along her bare back, causing her to tremble.
Then I wrapped my arms around her from behind, cupping her breasts once more.
With one hand teasing her nipples, the other gave her a gentle but firm smack on the ass.
“Smack!”
A sharp sound filled the room, followed by a breathless cry—
“Ahhh…!”
Her face flushed deep red, and though hidden behind a mask, I could tell her expression danced somewhere between shame and euphoria.
I reached for the toy I had prepared—a small, vibrating insert designed to slip in easily and stimulate with delicate pulses.
Positioning myself behind her, I pressed the tip gently against her entrance.
With almost no resistance, it slid in—her body welcoming it as if it had been waiting all along.
When I switched it on—
“Ahhhh…!”
Her voice cracked with pleasure, loud and raw.
Burying her face into the mattress, her body shook, but there was nowhere to run. She surrendered, her body opening to everything I gave.
The room was filled with the soft hum of the toy and the wet, lewd sounds of it moving inside her—rhythmic, real, intensely erotic.
Here in Shinjuku, in a love hotel tucked away from the world, a foreign woman sought something new.
And in response to her courage to surrender—to trust me with this first step into the unknown—I made sure to keep giving… until she couldn’t take any more.
The Quiet Connection Found Through Soft BDSM in Shinjuku
Our fingers were still gently interlaced, unmoving, as we lay together on the bed in peaceful silence. In that quiet moment, with only the sound of our breathing and heartbeats filling the space, there was nothing left of the shyness that had colored our first meeting.
Perhaps that’s what makes this kind of session in Tokyo so special—especially in a place like Shinjuku, where neon lights and busy crowds often hide the softer, more vulnerable side of intimacy. When you explore something as deep and personal as soft BDSM, sometimes words become unnecessary. Trust, connection, surrender—it all happens in silence.
I slowly rose from the bed, careful not to disturb the calm that had settled between us. She remained there, her body still, her gaze soft. There was no need to say much—everything important had already been shared in the way we touched, the way we breathed, the way we simply were together.
I dressed quietly, feeling the weight and warmth of the moment still lingering on my skin. As I opened the door, I looked back one last time. She met my eyes, and in that silent exchange, there was understanding, gratitude, something quietly profound.
I stepped into the hallway, leaving the room behind—but the connection stayed with me. A quiet thread, invisible yet strong, tying two people together across time, distance, and silence.
Interested in Exploring Soft BDSM in Tokyo?
I’m a Japanese man based in Tokyo, offering sensual massage and soft BDSM experiences specially designed for women.
If you’re even a little curious about exploring gentle submission or receiving a deeply relaxing yet erotic massage, you’re warmly invited to take a look at this article below:
👉 Sensual Yoni Massage for Women in Tokyo by a Japanese Male Therapist
Feel free to reach out if you have questions—I’m always happy to talk things through before any session.
