Training The Slut: Naked Sushi Buffet (MMMMM/F Dominance and Submission Gangbang Erotica)
The Perfect Slut, #3
Fiction & Literature, Short Stories, Romance, Erotica
| Author: | Isabel Dare | ISBN: | 9781497735736 |
| Publisher: | Isabel Dare | Publication: | February 11, 2013 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Isabel Dare |
| ISBN: | 9781497735736 |
| Publisher: | Isabel Dare |
| Publication: | February 11, 2013 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
When sensual, submissive Sarah is ordered to come to dinner by the dominant Desmond Fox, she has no idea that she’ll be serving as the table.
He introduces her to the kinky Japanese practice of nyotaimori: eating sushi from the naked body of a woman. Her naked body.
Her silky-smooth, shaven body serves as a living sushi platter for a gathering of ten powerful businessmen. It takes hours for the men to eat all the sushi off her bare skin, while caressing her with their chopsticks and fingers. But when dinner is done, the men have worked up an appetite for more, much more...
Warning: this 12.000 word erotic story contains female masturbation, female shaving, female submission to a dominant male, exhibitionism, voyeurism, group fondling, nyotaimori or naked body sushi service, and a no-holes-barred mmmmmm/f gangbang with double and even triple penetration. Just how much can one woman take? Adults only!
Excerpt:
She felt as though she was forging some sort of connection with these men, each time she felt a hand touch her so intimately. So far, the hands did not linger; they stroked briefly, caressed briefly, and then vanished from her field of view. Some men still used chopsticks. That felt very different; their touch was hard, wooden, firm. Less personal.
More sake was poured, and the amount of conversation increased. All Sarah heard was a low murmur of powerful voices.
One man - the blond Englishman, she saw with a glance from beneath her lashes - took a piece of seaweed-wrapped sushi from her inner thigh with his chopsticks. Then his chopsticks returned, not to grasp more food, but to stipple over her skin. A teasing, tantalizing touch. She thought he was trying her nerves, trying to see how she would react. It tickled, but she wasn’t going to move or giggle. She was not.
Did the men know that she had been ordered to remain absolutely still and silent? They could guess, perhaps, knowing Desmond. Knowing his power.
The chopsticks wandered over the skin of her thigh, where it had been laid bare, and she heard someone laugh.
“Only an Englishman would touch a woman with sticks instead of his hands,” a dark voice said from across her body. Sarah thought the accent sounded Arabic.
“Much can be achieved with a simple pair of chopsticks,” the cultured English voice said. “Allow me to demonstrate.”
When sensual, submissive Sarah is ordered to come to dinner by the dominant Desmond Fox, she has no idea that she’ll be serving as the table.
He introduces her to the kinky Japanese practice of nyotaimori: eating sushi from the naked body of a woman. Her naked body.
Her silky-smooth, shaven body serves as a living sushi platter for a gathering of ten powerful businessmen. It takes hours for the men to eat all the sushi off her bare skin, while caressing her with their chopsticks and fingers. But when dinner is done, the men have worked up an appetite for more, much more...
Warning: this 12.000 word erotic story contains female masturbation, female shaving, female submission to a dominant male, exhibitionism, voyeurism, group fondling, nyotaimori or naked body sushi service, and a no-holes-barred mmmmmm/f gangbang with double and even triple penetration. Just how much can one woman take? Adults only!
Excerpt:
She felt as though she was forging some sort of connection with these men, each time she felt a hand touch her so intimately. So far, the hands did not linger; they stroked briefly, caressed briefly, and then vanished from her field of view. Some men still used chopsticks. That felt very different; their touch was hard, wooden, firm. Less personal.
More sake was poured, and the amount of conversation increased. All Sarah heard was a low murmur of powerful voices.
One man - the blond Englishman, she saw with a glance from beneath her lashes - took a piece of seaweed-wrapped sushi from her inner thigh with his chopsticks. Then his chopsticks returned, not to grasp more food, but to stipple over her skin. A teasing, tantalizing touch. She thought he was trying her nerves, trying to see how she would react. It tickled, but she wasn’t going to move or giggle. She was not.
Did the men know that she had been ordered to remain absolutely still and silent? They could guess, perhaps, knowing Desmond. Knowing his power.
The chopsticks wandered over the skin of her thigh, where it had been laid bare, and she heard someone laugh.
“Only an Englishman would touch a woman with sticks instead of his hands,” a dark voice said from across her body. Sarah thought the accent sounded Arabic.
“Much can be achieved with a simple pair of chopsticks,” the cultured English voice said. “Allow me to demonstrate.”
