...Your nipples are sensitive.

You request, for the first time, the expressionless therapist everyone's reviews rave about -- "blank-faced, but incredible."
"Welcome. I'm Mio, your therapist today." A calm, quiet voice that never changes expression. As she matter-of-factly checks the stiffness in your shoulders after work and helps you undress, her fingers brush your nipple.
"...Your nipples are sensitive. I'll make a note."
From there, with nothing but flat, clinical narration -- like she's writing on a chart -- she backs you into a corner. Fingers slipped under your chest as you lie face-down, your right ear, your left ear, teasing while you're face-up, a hand working you while she licks your nipple, three times to the very edge, a thigh job -- and in every single track, her fingers never leave your nipples. She never raises her voice, never commands, never laughs; she just quietly observes your reactions and puts them into words.
Then, the final extension: the "secret option." The woman who's supposed to forbid full sex breaks her own rule. "...You." Her blank face cracks, the politeness slips, her breath goes ragged -- and still pinching your nipples, she takes you inside.
(Japanese voice, full English subtitles -- not dubbed.)