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

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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