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Thursday, 9 January 2014

Nyotaimori

I breathe slowly, shallowly, so as not to disturb the presentation of food. The smell is intoxicating and I long for a bite of fish, the tingle of ginger and wasabi on my tongue. But for now I am merely a decoration, an attractive display for the artfully arranged delicacies. In other rooms, other girls are bound as I am, their bodies serving the same erotic aesthetic. From somewhere I can hear the melancholy notes of a shamisen being played by one of the hostesses.

I feel the cool touch of Ayame’s fingers as she gently lifts the flask of sake from between my legs. My body heat has warmed the sweet wine and I close my eyes, listening to the soft splash as she fills each guest’s cup. The sleeve of her silk kimono brushes my skin as she moves past me. When she is done she replaces the flask, pressing it firmly up against my sex. I imagine her playful smile as I resist the temptation to squirm against it.

“Kanpai!” say the two couples seated around me. They drink deeply after the toast and I listen for the clatter of chopsticks as their eyes roam over the food on offer.

My senses are highly attuned to the slightest sound, the slightest scent. The lady to my right is wearing a beautiful fragrance that has something of jasmine in it. I lie motionless as her chopsticks skillfully lift a slice of fish from my belly and she sighs with pleasure at its taste. My chest barely rises as I breathe. 

The man across from her at my left shoulder must be her husband. He goes next, choosing one of the sushi rolls further up my body. He prods my ribs with his chopsticks, deliberately I suspect. But I am too well trained to react. There is as much an art to eating from a woman’s body as from being the platter that presents the food. My mouth waters and my sex moistens but those are the only responses I am allowed.

Ayame refills their sake cups, this time grinding the flask a little harder against me as she replaces it. I smile inwardly at her challenge, enjoying the tingle it sends up through my body. I already have gooseflesh from the cold food arrayed on my skin and my nipples have puckered beneath the salmon roe.

One by one the sashimi slices and maki rolls and nigiri rolls disappear from my flesh. The jasmine lady’s husband gently removes a single salmon egg the size of a pea from the clutch with his chopsticks and lifts it to my mouth. I imagine he is keen to make me react in some inappropriate manner. Perhaps he wants to see me punished. My pulse quickens at the thought.


from "Nyotaimori" by Rose de Fer

Available in Best Women's Erotica 2014