Lying naked on a dining table while strangers arrange food on your body really puts life in perspective.
I never thought I'd hit rock bottom, but here I am, a human sushi platter with a persistent semi that refuses to make up its mind. For the past hour, I've been stuck on this polished wooden table while three women in traditional Japanese clothing have transformed me into living dinnerware.
They haven't spoken a word of English, just rapid Japanese exchanges that sound either impressed or disgusted, I can't tell which. Every few minutes, one of them glances at my crotch before returning to her careful placement of rice and raw fish across my body.
My dignity evaporated the moment I stripped down and climbed onto this table. Now I'm just trying not to sneeze and send rolls flying across the room. The rice is cold against my skin, and the occasional brush of fingers as they position pieces makes me shiver, which only disturbs their meticulous arrangement.
"Don't move," one of them hisses when I flinch as something particularly cold touches my inner thigh.
The one English phrase they know.
I stare at the ceiling chandelier to distract myself from my predicament.
Just when I think this humiliation can't get any worse, the suite door opens. Hayashida-san strides in looking like she's stepped straight off a magazine cover, her golden eyes immediately finding mine. She surveys the tableau, me, naked and decorated like a buffet, and a slow smile spreads across her face.
She claps her hands once, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
"Is he ready?" she asks, addressing the women who've been arranging me for the past hour.
The oldest of the three nods respectfully, stepping back to display her handiwork with a flourish. I'm covered from chest to thighs in an elaborate display of sushi, each piece meticulously placed to create some kind of artistic pattern I can't see from my position.
"Nantaimori," Hayashida-san says, circling the table with predatory grace. "The art of serving sushi on a living body."
Her fingertip traces the edge of my collarbone, carefully avoiding the food. "The body temperature keeps the fish at the perfect coolness. And the presentation..." She pauses, golden eyes traveling the length of me. "Exquisite."
With those words, her fingertip drags down from my collarbone, tracing a path between the carefully arranged pieces of sushi until she reaches my exposed cock. The moment her skin makes contact with mine, my body betrays me completely. My semi-erection springs to full attention, standing proudly amidst the artful display of food.
"Hmm," Hayashida-san purrs, her golden eyes widening with delight. "Is your body telling me what to eat first?"
I open my mouth to respond, but she presses a finger firmly against my lips.
"The platter does not speak," she says, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Food doesn't talk back."
Before I can process what's happening, her hands move lower, fingers wrapping around my balls with surprising gentleness. The unexpected touch sends a jolt through my entire body. I bite my lip hard, blinking rapidly as I fight back a groan of pleasure.
She leans down, her perfect black bob falling forward as her lips brush against the head of my cock as she gives it a light kiss. The warmth of her mouth is a stark contrast to the cold food decorating my body. I have to clench every muscle to keep from making a sound.
Hayashida-san pulls back, studying me with newfound curiosity. "Oh, you really are different," she murmurs, genuine surprise in her voice. "I've never seen a man actually enjoy this."
She straightens up, addressing the three women who have been watching this display with carefully neutral expressions. "Leave us," she commands without looking at them.
They bow deeply before filing out of the room. The door closes with a soft click that seems to echo in the sudden silence.
"Now," she says, returning her attention to me, "the rules are simple. You stay perfectly still while I eat." Her smile turns wicked. "If you move and disturb my meal, there will be... consequences."
She plucks a piece of sushi from my chest with her fingers, examining it before popping it into her mouth. Her eyes close briefly as she savors the taste.
"Perfect," she murmurs, reaching for another piece.
She settles onto a chair beside the table, her movements fluid and deliberate as she picks up a pair of sleek black chopsticks. With practiced precision, she plucks a piece of sushi from my stomach, her golden eyes never leaving mine as she brings it to her lips.
"The key to appreciating good sushi," she says, "is to savor it slowly."
Her chopsticks hover over my body, deliberately brushing against my skin as she selects her next morsel. Each touch is feather-light but electrifying. When she grazes the sensitive skin near my hip, I feel my cock twitch involuntarily.
A knowing smile spreads across her face. "Interesting reaction," she purrs. "I wonder what would happen if I did this..."
The chopsticks trail down my inner thigh, nowhere near the food, just teasing my skin. I clench my jaw, determined not to make a sound. Her golden eyes gleam with predatory delight as she watches me struggle.
"Do you find it difficult to feel me through these?" she asks, tapping the chopsticks against my thigh. Her golden eyes study me with clinical interest, like I'm some fascinating experiment.
I press my lips together, saying nothing. Every instinct tells me to stay silent, to be the perfect living platter she wants. Moving might disturb her artistic meal, but speaking feels like an even greater transgression.
My silence seems to please her. A slow, predatory smile spreads across her face as she sets the chopsticks down with deliberate care.
"I think we need a more... intimate approach," she purrs.
Without warning, she leans forward and uses her mouth to pluck a piece of sushi directly from my chest. Her lips brush against my skin, warm and soft, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my groin. My breath hitches as she straightens, chewing thoughtfully.
"Much better," she says after swallowing. "I can taste your essence this way."
She continues her meal, abandoning utensils completely. Each piece she takes with her mouth leaves a trail of sensation across my skin. Some she removes delicately, others with a deliberate drag of her tongue that makes maintaining stillness nearly impossible.
When she reaches a piece near my hip, she pauses, golden eyes locking with mine.
"After I finish my dinner," she whispers, her breath hot against my skin, "I'm going to ride this cock of yours until your legs are too weak to carry you from this room."
My entire body tenses at her words, desire shooting through me like a lightning bolt.
"I've paid handsomely for the privilege," she continues, taking another piece from dangerously close to my erection. "And I intend to extract every ounce of value."
She rises gracefully from her chair and positions herself above me, her knees on either side of my chest. With elegant movements, she leans down and takes another piece from near my collar bone, her eyes never leaving mine. Her body hovers over me, the warmth of her skin a stark contrast to the cool sushi still adorning parts of my torso.
"Mmm," she hums, selecting another morsel from my chest. "So much better when I can feel your heartbeat beneath my meal."
I struggle to remain perfectly still as she continues, her body shifting closer to my face as she reaches for pieces near my shoulders.
After taking a few more pieces, she pauses, sitting back slightly to examine what remains of her artistic dinner. Her golden eyes darken as they travel down to my still-rigid cock.
"I see there's still quite a bit left," she observes, her fingertips tracing around the remaining pieces of sushi. "But I'm finding myself craving something sweeter now."
Before I can process what's happening, she slides down my body in one fluid motion, positioning herself between my legs. She lowers her head, taking my entire length into her mouth without warning.
"Oh god!" I gasp, my hips bucking involuntarily at the sudden wet heat enveloping me.
She immediately pulls away, leaving me throbbing and desperate. Her expression hardens as she fixes me with a stern glare.
"What did I say about the rules?" she scolds, her voice silky but dangerous. "You're meant to stay perfectly still. There are still pieces of my dinner on you."
I look down and see several sushi pieces still artfully arranged near my hips and upper thighs. In my moment of weakness, I'd completely forgotten they were there.
"I'm sorry, Hayashida-sama," I manage, trying desperately to regain my composure.
Hayashida-sama's eyes narrow dangerously as she traces a finger along the edge of a piece of sushi that nearly fell off my hip during my outburst.
"If these fall," she says with deadly calm, "Irina will be extremely displeased with me. Because if a piece of merchandise like you can't follow my simple instructions, why should I respect the rules set by your owner?"
I say nothing, closing my eyes and focusing on becoming stone. Perfectly still. Perfectly obedient. The alternative is too terrifying to contemplate.
Her warm mouth returns without warning, enveloping me completely. The wet heat is overwhelming, but I force every muscle in my body to remain rigid, fighting against the natural impulse to thrust upward. My jaw clenches so tight I'm afraid my teeth might crack.
She works me with ruthless efficiency, her tongue swirling patterns that make my toes curl despite my best efforts to remain motionless. Through sheer willpower, I manage to keep my hips planted firmly on the table, though I can't stop the trembling that runs through my thighs.
When she pulls away, I feel her breath cooling the wetness she left behind.
"Very good," she purrs. "You're learning."
I dare to open my eyes, finding her golden gaze fixed on me with predatory approval. She reaches for another piece of sushi, this one balanced precariously on my lower stomach, and pops it into her mouth with deliberate slowness.
"You know," she says after swallowing, "most men would have sent these flying across the room by now out of fear. Your control is... impressive."
The compliment feels like a trap, but I remain silent, focusing on my breathing. In. Out. Don't move.
She leans forward again, this time letting her hair brush against my thighs as she takes me into her mouth once more. The sensation is torture, exquisite, mind-bending torture. Each slow slide of her lips threatens to unravel my control completely.
My fingernails dig into my palms, the pain helping me focus on something other than the pleasure building in my core. I'm so hard it hurts, throbbing against her tongue as she works me with methodical precision.
It's all too much. The pressure builds inside me like a dam about to burst. I can't hold back any longer. My vision blurs as the inevitable happens, I explode without warning, releasing everything I've been holding back. Not a sound escapes my lips, not a muscle moves, but inside I'm shaking apart as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me.
Her golden eyes widen in genuine surprise. For the first time since we met, Hayashida-sama seems caught off guard. But her recovery is instantaneous, professional. She doesn't pull away, doesn't hesitate. Instead, her throat works rhythmically as she accepts everything I give her, maintaining eye contact the entire time.
I'm dying inside, pleasure mixed with panic.
When the last pulse fades, she slowly pulls away, wiping the corner of her mouth with one elegant finger. Her expression is unreadable as she sits back, studying me.
A flicker of something crosses her face, surprise or maybe even admiration. She rises to her feet in one fluid motion and gestures at the remaining sushi pieces on my body.
"This is certainly unusual for me," she says, her golden eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Before I can process what's happening, she grabs me and lifts me off the table with startling strength. The remaining sushi pieces scatter as she practically tosses me onto the nearby bed. I land with a soft thud, still naked and sticky with rice.
"How soon can you perform again?" she asks, her fingers already working the buttons of her blouse. The silk parts to reveal the elaborate phoenix tattoo that travels up her torso, vibrant colors against her faultless skin.
My body responds before my brain can catch up. Despite having just finished, I feel myself hardening again as she shrugs off her shirt completely, revealing perfect breasts adorned with small gold barbells through each nipple.
"Oh. I see," she says, her eyes gleaming as they travel down my body.