Author: Bob Williams Title: Haruka's Education Part: Chapter 10 of 20 Universe: The Megumi Stories Summary: A young girl is prepared for a career as a Japanese sex artist Keywords: Mf, bd, tort, Japan ===== HARUKA'S EDUCATION 10 By Bob Williams and Haruka Sekine CHAPTER X Playing Games We squeezed together round a tiny table in a food-shop and I ordered a _katsudon_, a big bowl of rice covered with a sliced pork cutlet cooked with soy sauce, onions and eggs. It is one of my favourites. Haruka ordered a small bowl of noodles but was too excited to eat much of it. She soon disappeared into the wash-room and my expert eye for such matters told me when she returned that she had removed her panty and was naked under the tiny skirt of her new dress. The thought of travelling home with her in such a delectably provocative state sharpened my lust for her very agreeably. It also brought back happy memories of my early days in Tokyo. "It's nice to visit Asakusa again," I said. "I used to come here a lot when I was new in Japan." Haruka pushed her half-empty bowl aside and smiled at me. "It was a good place to pick up girls," I went on. "Girls who just wanted fun. Or pretty working girls hoping for a date after finishing their shifts in the hostess bars and soaplands. Except they weren't called soaplands then." "Weren't they?" "They used to be called _toruko_. Short for Turkish bath. The Turkish Embassy kept complaining about it. For a long time no one paid any attention, but in the end the Japanese Foreign Office persuaded the industry to choose a new name." [17] Haruka did not seem interested in this piece of diplomatic history. "How did you pick up your girls?" she asked teasingly. "Well, I'd come to a food shop like this in the late evening, and spot a pretty young girl like you sitting by herself, and ask if I could join her." "Of course you may," said Haruka, immediately starting to act the part. "What is your name?" I asked, falling in with her fantasy. "Erika," she replied, at once picking the sort of work-name a sweet young Japanese whore would use. "My name is Bob," I said. "You speak Japanese well," she said. "Have you lived in Japan long?" "About a year," I said improvising. "I'm a journalist. What do you do, Erika-san?" "Well, I work in a bar." "Do you enjoy that?" "Oh, yes. I like meeting people ..." "So do I. It's a great pleasure to meet you. Would you like to come home with me when you've finished here?" She looked at me, considering, and then smiled. "Yes, I would. I've never met an American journalist before." I paid the check for us both and picked up the plastic bags containing the big red candles and the clothes Haruka had taken off in the dress- and shoe-shop. We left the little restaurant together. "That's a very pretty dress," I said as we walked towards the main road and the subway station. "Do you think so?" she asked, pulling down the tiny glittering skirt as best she could. "I have to wear nice clothes for my work, of course ... but fortunately some of the gentlemen I meet are very generous. I mean ..." I didn't need to ask what she meant. We both understood clearly that we had just entered on a business as well as a personal arrangement: she would give me the full benefit of her professional skills in teasing and then satisfying my erotic fantasies, and in return I would give her all the sexual pleasure I could and then - either in cash or in the form of a present - pay her whatever I thought our encounter was worth. I slipped my free arm round her waist and let my hand wander down to her hip. There was no sign of any strap or band under her little skirt. I could feel my cock responding to her delightful availability. She smiled up at me and skipped happily along beside me on her platform shoes. A couple of men coming towards us looked at her appreciatively. I managed somehow to keep my desire for her under control on the subway journey back to my Akasaka apartment. We chatted easily about her experiences in the hostess bar where she worked, and she described with delighted giggles some of the sexual preferences of her customers. I knew of course that she was hinting at some of the things she hoped I would do to her as soon as we were alone together. At last we entered the front door of my apartment block and stepped inside the elevator. "Help me take my dress off," she murmured. "Here?" "Oh, please ... I can't wait a moment longer!" I can never resist a challenge like that. I reached behind her neck with my free hand and swiftly pulled apart the bow holding up the front of her dress while she stood close to me, rubbing her breasts against my chest. Then, together, we slipped the skirt down over her naked bottom till it slithered to the ground. She moved away from me, stepped out of the unwanted garment, swept it up off the floor of the elevator and presented it to me with a submissive bow. I added it to the other dress in the shop's carrier bag. "Oh, that feels so much better!" she murmured as the elevator stopped at the fourth floor. It wasn't the first time I had arrived at the front door of my apartment with a nude girl in my arms. It was a risk, of course: the other tenants in my block changed quite often and while I took care to be friendly, and where appropriate occasionally invited them to share in the access I enjoyed to the Tokyo sex industry and its girls, there was always a danger that some jealous or disapproving occupant would complain about me to the company which owned the block or even to the police and immigration authorities. But the occasional spice of danger added to the pleasure of my relationships with Tokyo's countless current or would-be sex-workers. There was hardly likely to be anyone around as we left the elevator at the floor which I occupied, but just for fun I span out the pleasure of anticipation, and the sense of danger, a few moments longer by pretending to fumble for my key while Erika/Haruka posed provocatively in the public area wearing just her platform shoes and nipple-clamps. At last we were inside. I conducted my "new" girl down the short corridor, dropped the dress-shop bag and the parcel of candles on the low table in the living-room, and took her in my arms. After a long moment of blissful kissing and stroking, we settled on the couch where I ran a finger lightly along the lips of her pussy. I could feel her shivering with pleasure. I looked at the glistening drops of cunt-juice which I had harvested, then put my finger in my mouth. "Lovely!" I said. "You really like it?" she asked anxiously. "It's delicious. I want more." I knelt before her on the carpet, opened her legs wide and then pulled her forward so that she was slumped on her back on the couch. I lifted her bottom to a convenient height, leant forward and gently kissed her lips. Her pretty hairless cunt was brim-full of nectar, which had already begun to drip down the insides of her thighs. I inserted my tongue and helped myself to a delicious sample. She wriggled, squealed and pretended to object but I held her firmly. I did not waste any more time telling her how much I was enjoying it: she could tell that from my enthusiastic slurping and licking. Our frustrating subway journey all the way back from Asakusa, her naked availability under the hem of her tiny skirt making it impossible for either of us to think of anything other than the imminent celebration of our mutual lust, had stimulated her cunt to produce copious quantities of delicious lubrication and it had not stopped: the more greedily I swallowed the more she dripped into my mouth. At last I had to stop and get my breath back. "Oh, that was lovely!" she gasped from somewhere above me. "It was beautiful!" I replied. "My turn now!" she said happily. She scrambled off the couch to join me on the carpet and pushed me gently down onto my back. She took my erection in her hands and then began to suck it - unnecessarily as her pussy was still juicy and slippery with its own lubrication. "You like me on top?" she asked once her mouth was free again. "You bet!" She straddled my waist and impaled herself expertly on my cock. We were so hot for each other that we both began to come almost as once, and with a shuddering cry of happiness from her and a shout of triumph from me my balls shot their load of cum deep inside her. When our spasms of joy had given way to the afterglow of happiness we lay in each other's arms, our hands never still as they stroked and petted. It was time, I thought, to ask her about her nipple-clamps. Of course I had noticed them as I undressed her, but there had been other more urgent things to do to her - like sucking and fucking her cunt. My lust satisfied for the moment at least, I started to play with her firm young breasts, flicking the pretty little instruments of torture decorating them. "Do you like them?" she asked shyly. "I always wear them ..." "Yes, I noticed. Even when you are wearing nothing else?" "_Especially_ then." "Don't they hurt?" "Well, yes ... no ... that is, I suppose they do, but it doesn't seem like that. They give me such lovely tingling feelings, all over. Won't you tighten them for me?" The clamps were already screwed almost as tight as they could go, but I managed to add a little to their delightful cruelty. "I have quite a collection of nipple-clamps, if you enjoy things like that," I said. "Different kinds." "Really? I didn't think men bought things like that." "Don't be silly! I adore it when girls wear clamps. Especially when they let me put them on for them. They look so pretty, and of course wearing them they're half-way to coming already." "Mm'mm! You _do_ understand, don't you?" said Erika/Haruka, wriggling round in my arms and kissing me. "Well, I try to. And I have lots of other little toys too." "Do you? What other little toys?" "Upstairs. Come with me and I'll show you." "What will you do to me if I come upstairs with you? Nice things?" "Of course. But what would you specially like me to do to you?" Her eyes slid sideways towards the plastic bag lying near her head as she lay on the floor propped against the low table. "Are those candles in that bag?" she asked teasingly. Now that is cheating, Haruka, I thought to myself. Erika is not supposed to know that we bought candles together so that I could teach you about wax-torture. If you don't play the game by the rules I shall have to punish you. The thought of doing that made my cock stiffen and my balls begin to itch. "Yes, they are," I said levelly. "I've read about ... seen movies where girls are ... tortured with hot wax ..." she managed to say. She was breathing in short gasps and I could feel her heart beating fast. "Would _you_ like to be tortured with hot wax?" "Er ... yes ... that is, I don't know. Do you think I would enjoy it?" she finally managed to say. "I don't know. I would certainly enjoy doing it to you." She said nothing for a moment. She breathed deeply and I could feel her fighting to bring her excited anticipation under control. "Then ... will you please?" "Of course." I stood up and took both her hands. She stood too and gazed at me, her beautiful eyes wide and trusting. I let go of one hand, picked up the parcel of candles, slipped my free arm round her waist and conducted her towards the stairs. She walked elegantly and easily on her high platform soles and heels, with none of the coy gaucheness that many Japanese girls imagine is attractive. "You're not shy about being nude with me?" I said. "I like that." "No, of course not. I work as a nude hostess and stripper, so I'm used to being naked while gentlemen look at me. That is, not _so_ used to it that I don't think about it - I can always tell when I'm being looked at and wanted, and it feels lovely - but I enjoy it. Do you like me being nude? Does it make you want me the way the gentlemen in my clubs do?" We were nearly at the top of the stairs now. "Very much. I'm sure you can tell." She giggled charmingly. "What does it make you want to do to me?" she asked coquettishly. "Just at the moment it makes me want to torture you till you scream for mercy." "Ooh! Nobody's ever done that to me before!" "It's too late now to escape." "_Will_ I scream?" "Oh yes. You'll scream all right. In here." I led her into the bedroom. I did not know how long our joint fantasy of having just picked each other up and starting on our first sexual encounter would last, but I decided Erika, the "new" Haruka, should not yet know about my torture-chamber. That would be a future pleasure for her, if we took the game that far. I hunted in a drawer and pulled out a black plastic sheet. "Help me with this." Together we spread it carefully over the bed to protect it from the splashes of molten red wax which would soon be raining down. Despite her protests I unscrewed her clamps; then I helped her lie face down on the bed, her golden back, legs and above all her round immaculate arse looking delicious against the black. I carefully removed her shoes: normally I like my girls to wear high-heels for sex, of course, but I did not want them to be damaged. I reached down beside each corner of the bed in turn and felt for the short chains which always hung there in readiness, and snapped the steel manacles round her wrists and ankles. I lifted her head and made sure she was easily supported by the pillows. "Comfortable, darling?" "Very. I could stay here for ever!" "You may have to. After all, you don't know me. We've only just met. No one knows you are here. No one will rescue you. You are entirely at my mercy. For all you know I might be the cruellest sadistic maniac in Japan, looking forward to torturing his latest victim for days and nights without stopping." "Ooh! What fun! _Are_ you the cruellest sadist in Japan?" "Yes. One of the cruellest anyway." "Am I your victim?" "Of course." She sighed a deep, contented sigh. "What a lucky girl I am. Please be very cruel to me." I went to the dressing-table where I had left the package of candles and carefully unwrapped two. They looked handsome and ready, like enormous dildos. I hunted in a drawer and found the disposable cigarette-lighter I kept there for occasions like this, flicked it into life and cautiously lit the wicks of the two candles. Erika's face was turned towards me on the pillow and while I was careful not to look in her direction I could tell that she was watching me anxiously. I put down the lighter and moved towards her, a candle in each hand. It took a little while for the flames to burn up enough to start the flow of molten wax which would soon be stimulating and tickling her almost - but not quite - unbearably, and while that was happening I held the candles near her face so that she could watch the hot liquid accumulate and look forward to the torture in store for her. At last the candles were ready and I raised them above her helpless bottom, slowly tilting them till the first dribbles of wax fell and decorated her with round red splashes. She wriggled prettily on the black plastic and let out a little squeal as each drop kissed her, spread, solidified and cooled. Soon the drops increased in volume, merged into a continuous stream of torment and left very little skin uncovered. I moved one candle slowly upwards so that its flow could decorate and tickle her back, while with the other I created patterns on the backs of her thighs. Erika's squeals blended into one long whimper of longing protest just as the hot wax merged into a single stream. She was so well covered now that it was time to move from so-called "soft" candlewax torture, with the candle held horizontally, to "hard" with the candle held almost upside-down. This causes it to create a heavy flow of molten wax flaming as it lands on the victim, and should not be used until her skin is already well coated with solidified deposits, so that she can enjoy the increase in tickling torment without being seriously burned. The candles were half consumed now, and it was time for the second part of the torture. I blew out the flames, letting the last few drops fall on the as yet undecorated soles of her feet. She kicked as much as her bonds would allow. I laid the candles down on the dressing-table, protecting the surface with the wrappings in which they had been packed. I released Erika's wrists and ankles from the steel shackles and carefully turned her over. She moaned in her masochistic pleasure, begging me to continue. Well, I was planning to of course. I spread her out on her back and prepared to reattach the shackles. "No, no," she protested, shaking her head from side to side on the pillow. "Please let me be free ..." I knew what she meant, of course. She would enjoy the experience all the more if she could lie under the hot wax raining down on her, wriggling and revelling in it, without any restraint. I was glad enough to let her do that. A bound helpless girl being tortured is a lovely sight, but a girl who delightedly and freely offers herself to the torments I have prepared for her is erotically pleasing in a more sophisticated way. So I left her to lie on the bed, begging me to hurry, while I relit the candles and prepared to anoint the front of her with yet more burning wax. Once the candles were ready again, I devoted them first to dribbling their hot liquid over her sensitive breasts. She squirmed and gasped, arching her back as if trying to bring her breasts even closer to the source of the torment. As the deposits built up I again changed gradually from "soft" to "hard", holding the candles almost vertically so that the flaming wax poured over her as if from an open tap. But there was more of her to be covered, and once the coating on her breasts was thick enough I moved one candle slowly downwards, letting it draw elaborate patterns over her tummy. I stopped for a while to fill her navel with wax, and then continued my gradual approach to her hairless cleft. She was holding her legs wide apart, of course, and soon big drops began to fall on her pussy, sizzling prettily as they cooled in the love-juice drenching her lips. She was beyond any control now, screaming in her joy and begging for more, her body bucking and rolling as she tried to expose every bit of herself to the exquisite torment raining from the candles. There was not much of them left now, while the accumulation of red splashes was covering her so thickly and completely that she looked as if she was dressed in a kind of rough body-suit. When the stubs of the candles were too short to hold comfortably I used the flames to soften the ends and then stuck them to her, one on each breast. I stood back and admired my work. She went on wriggling, the movement making what was left of the wax dribble down the sides of the stubs as the flames sank lower and began to melt the thick coating to which they were fixed. At last the candles lost all shape, each remaining centimetre or so of wick fell sideways and for a few moments her breasts themselves seemed to be on fire as the flames finally flared up and then died, drowning in the remaining wax. At last she lay quiet, dreaming I suppose of the erotic experience she had endured. Then her eyes opened and her lips curved in a charming smile of satisfaction. "More?" she said teasingly. "No more," I replied. "You've exhausted both candles. But we haven't finished yet. We have to take all the wax off now." "Ooh! How will we do that? Will it be nice?" "Wait and see." I left her lying on the bed for a few moments while I found another black plastic sheet and spread it over the carpet. Then I returned to the bed and held out both hands to her. As I helped her sit up and then stand the wax encrusted on her body cracked and large pieces detached themselves. But there was still plenty more for me to remove. I supported her as she moved unsteadily to the position I had prepared for her. I tied her wrists with a length of soft cord and reached up to loop it over a hook in the ceiling, then tightened it till she was tautly stretched and balanced on her toes. Erika looked at me in silence, her face betraying a mixture of fear and excited anticipation. From a drawer I produced a whip of many long broad leather straps. "Ready, darling?" "Yes ... oh yes!" Then "Ohhh!" as the lashes embraced her hips and then her breasts for the first of many times. After about a dozen strokes the main areas of wax were loosened enough for me to pull the thick moulds from her bottom and breasts by hand, but there were still many patches clinging to her for the hungry lashes to work on as she twisted and turned for them, squealing with happiness. After about twenty minutes there was no wax left on her, though her skin was still marked with red blotches. I dropped the whip, freed her hands and took her in my arms. "How do you feel, darling?" I asked as we came apart after a long kiss. "Wonderful! That was an amazing experience ... please do it to me again." "Now, go and take a long shower. Then you'll be fresh again and ready for more." She nodded and walked towards the bathroom, giving me a happy smile over her shoulder as she disappeared. While I waited for her return I gathered up the sheet from the floor, shook it over the bed till all the loose wax was gone, and folded it away into the drawer. Then I gathered up the sheet on the bed and bundled it together in the corner of the room, ready to be disposed of in the correct garbage bin on the correct collection day. "Ooh, that was such a nice game!" said Haruka - or was she still Erika? - as she emerged, fresh and virginal, from the shower. "Let's do it again soon! Pretend not to have met before." So she was Haruka again. "Sure," I said. "I need to polish my pick-up technique." She made a face at me, then continued with her fantasy. "Next time I'll go into the restaurant first and find somewhere to sit. You wait outside for a few minutes, and then come in and ask if you can join me." "What happens if some other man asks you first?" "Oh, then he gets to pick me up ... how thrilling! He takes me off somewhere I've never been before and fucks me. And so on." "Where does that leave me?" "All alone, I guess. Or picking up some other girl ... Now, what's the time? Yes, I have an hour before I have to leave for the club. What shall we do?" "You know very well what we're going to do. I've been doing all the work this afternoon, in case you've forgotten, while you had all the fun. My turn now." She put her arms round my neck and kissed me. "Of course, darling. Put on my nipple-clamps for me, to get me in the mood." "I thought you were always in the mood." She giggled, and then gasped with pleasure as I screwed the clamps tight. "What shoes would you like me to wear to be fucked in?" "The new ones. The platform ones. They make you look like a real tart." "I _am_ a real tart. Hadn't you noticed?" She skipped over to where I had left them on the carpet and stepped elegantly into them. "Oh, by the way," she added before filling her mouth with my erection, "don't forget to call that shop and order both pieces of jewellery like you promised you would." So it seemed I had promised. FOOTNOTES [17] This is true. No one took the Turkish complaints seriously. Most people probably couldn't understand what the Embassy was objecting to and thought it probably did Turkey's reputation no harm at all to be associated with something so enjoyable. But in the late 1970s a big new establishment was opened under the name _Toruko Taishikan_ or Turkish Embassy. The real Embassy kept getting phone calls from customers who had found their number in the book, wanting reservations with favourite girls. The Japanese authorities were forced to take action at last and _toruko_ were all renamed _sopurando_ or soaplands. - B W [Next in Part 11: Chapter XI: The Chez Maria Story] For complete series so far see /files/Authors/Bob_Williams Comments welcome at bobwilliams1@tiscali.co.uk