The English Tourist
by Peter Loaf

The English tourist, wanders alone
Tokyo night-life, the secret known
Bathhouse in cellar, through curtain shown
The bondage classic, nipples in cone

Ellie Smart window shopped the stores between her hotel and the Ginza.  It wasn’t that she was planning to buy anything, really, it was more that she wanted to be sure no one was following her.  She’d been given an address but had been warned come alone.  She knew that to violate her instructions would be to waste all the time and energy she’d spent getting this close to her goal.

She found the place she wanted and moved on past it, as if she had no interest in it what so ever.  It was, after all, just a set of stairs with a door at the bottom.  The sign was in Japanese with a small English translation beneath.  It read; Nariyki’s bathhouse and massage parlor.  She pretended to be checking the menu at a Kobe Beef restaurant next door while waiting for some businessmen to go around a corner then quickly ducked down the stairs and into the door.

Inside she found the steamy darkness that in Tokyo means bathhouse and as soon as her eyes adjusted to the low light, found herself confronted by a small old woman in a kimono who had her hand out.  As instructed, Ellie crossed the old woman’s palm with the equivalent of a month’s pay back home in Liverpool.

The old woman carefully counted the money, smiled toothlessly, went and locked the entrance door and bowed her through a bead curtain.  Inside was a small but strong looking man, waiting, sitting on a bar stool with several coils of strong looking hemp rope laying on the bar near his hand.  The room was lit only by candles.

She bowed to this man and he got down from the stool and did the same to her.  She stood there for a moment, with half a mind to make a break for the door, then began removing her clothing.

He simply watched, his face hard as stone until she was completely naked, then grunted and gestured for her to turn around so that her back was to him.  When she complied he slid a low stool over against the backs of her knees and had her sit down.  Taking her right wrist in a prepared noose he began tying her in the classic Japanese manner so that soon her arms were fixed across the small of her back, her upper arms lashed tightly to her sides, her breasts bound so that they stood out from her chest and her nipples sticking out like invitations to suckle.  It was, as she had dreamed it would be, the sexiest thing she’d ever known.  

Body in bondage, passion restrained
Sex tourist summer, my needs explained
My binder expert, by ropes detained
The crotch rope knotted, my pussy pained

When the upper body bondage was complete, he helped her to stand up, used his foot to gently encourage her to stand with her feet spread and carefully inserted a smooth plastic vibrating egg into her vulva then rigged a knotted rope cooze cutter through her, by this time wet and swollen sex.  When this was tied off, back up to her arms, any movement she made, even taking a breath, was felt in the crushed folds of her pussy.  Inside, the egg nestled down against her G spot making her aware of wonders yet to come.  Then bringing her feet back together he tied her ankles together using several wraps of rope and leaving a length laying out behind her on the floor.  He stood up close behind her, gripped the ropes in the middle of her back and used his knees to unlock hers and help her down to a kneeling position.  The last knot was to tie her ankle leash up to the nexus in the middle of her back, trapping her in a hogtie.

Ellie shuddered in her bondage, the feel of the hemp rope on her body both a kind of torture and a kind of whole body stimulation.  She looked up at her new Master and wondered if he was as good as she’d heard he was.

Certainly he had met expectations thus far.  She had come all this way and paid a lot of hard earned money for reasons that were hard to explain.  Suffice it to say, she was where she’d always wanted to be, hogtied and helpless, in the traditional Japanese style.

And now she was here and here she would stay like this until he was done with her.   

Each breath is torture, stoking my fire
Riding crop smacking, climbing the spire
Lusty wench writhing, condition dire
Helpless and horny, needing a sire

He went back to his bar stool and sipped his drink, his eyes watching her like a cat watches the mouse it has cornered.  He said nothing, letting the vibrating egg in her pussy do the talking for the moment.

After about ten minutes he reached over, picked up a cruel looking riding crop and began slapping its cracker against the palm of his other hand, making a noise that caused Ellie to jump in startled reaction.

Ellie wiggled in her ropes, enjoying the feel of their tight strictures, their knotty pressures, their implacable, inescapable strength.  She wiggled and shuddered, feeling the passion rising up within her restrained body, within her fevered thoughts, within her creaming, egg stretched vulva.  

Bound in a package, going nowhere
Round eyed with passion, paying my fare
My body burning, sexual snare
The tourist shudders, under His care

By the time he’d finished his drink, Ellie was beaded with passion sweat, her head spinning, her nipples hard and aching, supersensitive and tender, her breathing shallow and loud in her own ears.  She strained against her bondage, not for escape but for the feeling of restraint.  She wanted, needed more but refrained from saying a word wanting him to decide for her.

He nodded satisfaction and came over, a large red candle aflame in his hand.   

Candle wax dripping, like molten lead
My body coating, my fire fed
Breasts thighs and belly, sanity shed
Fantasies filling, out of my head

The first hot droplet of wax fell on Ellie’s bare shoulder, feeling like molten metal burning its way into her soul.  She cringed away, nearly toppling over onto her side.  He took a grip in her hair, pulled her back off balance and continued to drizzle wax across her breasts, down her tummy and thighs, making her gasp in passion and pain.  When her front was covered he pulled her over forward and drizzled the liquid pain down her backbone, filling her sacral dimples, coating her bottom, the bottoms of her bound feet.

Then, pulling her over to lie on her side, he began flogging her hogtied body with the riding crop, making chunks of the now hardened wax fly, making her begin screaming in helpless, unrestrained passion.

Fighting my bondage, wiggle and strain
Passion comes crashin’, I must remain
Flopping fish screaming, my spreading stain
Sex tourist serving, the ropes detain

Suddenly the egg in her vulva went wild, shifting from an insistent hum to a demanding jackhammer buzz that felt like it was trying to vibrate her bound body across the floor.  She strained against her bondage, jerking and cringing under the continued cropping, feeling as if she were about to explode in pure pleasure.  She remembers seeing the old woman, standing in the beaded curtain watching, a remote control in her hand, a wide toothless, all knowing grin on her raisin-like face.

Finger-fuck wiggle, there’s no escape
Roped up for torture, roped up for rape
Nipple lick suckle, size of a grape
Pussy lips swollen, hanging agape

His hands came then, inciting her to even higher levels of excitement as they explored her flopping, sweat soaked, passion juice coated groin.  Worming his finger under the knot that held her clit tight against her hipbone he began massaging it in a way she knew she could not long withstand.  Mewing in her need now, she humped her bound body against his hand, demanding even more of him.  He bent and took her swollen, wax-coated nipple between his lips and began to suck on it while at the same time continuing the massage on the nubbin between her legs.

Placed on my tummy, ankles untied
Pussy rope loosened, needing inside
My hips he’s lifting, ready to ride
Spearing my center, nothing denied

She was very close to orgasm when he rolled her over onto her stomach, untied first her ankles then her cooze rope, used the retrieval cord to withdraw the vibrating egg, positioned her up on her knees and speared her from behind, his big cock filling her gulping vagina like a stallion servicing a mare.

She was screaming in passion, her legs kicking and scrabbling for purchase on the floor, her hips thrusting back against his lap, her vulva gripping on his cock as if she were trying to milk him of his seed. 

Sex tourist paying, fantasies filled
His phallus potent, just as it’s billed
Needing my breeding, the Master skilled
Helpless and happy, His semen spilled