Authors: Allison Hobbs
“Yes,” she murmured, panting and overly stimulated by the provocative image of her pussy on a platter and being served as a side dish.
“In addition,” the chef added, “you must exercise discipline and remain silent throughout the meal.”
“Why?”
“Mr. Merrick’s orders,” he said simply.
“That’s ridiculous. I refuse to be silent.” Her emerald eyes glinted in anger.
“You’ll have to hold your tongue and control your sexual urges—” Thoughtfully, the chef stroked his chin. “You’ll forfeit your first night of carnal pleasure if you don’t comply.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
“I’m serious,” he said sternly. “However, after your guests’ appetites have been satisfied, so shall your sexual desires…beyond your wildest fantasies.” There was a twinkle in the chef’s eyes as he dabbed a finger in various locations, taste-testing how the sauces intermingled with her bodily flavors. “You taste wonderful,” he chimed, sucking his finger. “Your guests will be pleased.”
Yoyin sucked her teeth. “Why didn’t this Mr. Merrick inform me of all these silly rules before I left Philadelphia? Had I known that there would be so many conditions—” She gasped suddenly, experiencing an onslaught of tiny tremors as Louis’s brush strokes and the chef’s roving hands, threatened to drive her over the edge before her guests were served.
“Do you agree to all the conditions?” the chef asked. “I must know before you’re taken to the dining room and presented.”
It was a tantalizing proposition. If she exercised discipline by remaining silent and controlling her insatiable libido, she’d be rewarded with hard-ramming, torturously good sex after the meal. “Okay,” she said, the word carried on a sigh of displeasure.
“Do you agree?” the chef inquired.
Annoyed, she glared at the chef. “I gave you my bloody okay, what more do want? Must I spell it out?”
Moments later, the chef’s staff held a huge mirror above her before she was taken into the dining area. The fabulous food art truly enhanced her beauty. She quelled the urge to beam with pride; the overbearing chef did not deserve her praise or approval.
A
convivial atmosphere filled the elaborately decorated dining room. Ten distinguished guests—six men and four women—sat at a formal table, sipping champagne, tropical island drinks, and other libations. They were an attractive, elegantly attired, and affluent bunch. They laughed gaily, conversed in crisp, self-assured tones, running the gamut from gossipy, “who’s getting divorced from whom” talk to more serious discussions of international politics and global warming.
But a hush fell over the room when the chef entered and cleared his throat. “This evening’s menu features several new additions to my regular fare.” He took in a large burst of air and exhaled and then proceeded in delivering a libretto, replete with sweeping hand gestures and extravagant posturing. “Tonight! I present with great pride, a feast fit for noblemen. I give you libido-lifting food—a medley of fresh seafood, fruits, vegetables, and culinary herbs and spices—a unique fusion of island cuisine and international flavors combined with…” he paused dramatically, “…the essence of woman. Tonight, I invite you to indulge your discriminating tastebuds, enhance your sex drive as you dine on delectable finger foods, savory sauces, and baguettes as well as the sumptuous natural seasonings of your delectable hostess, Yoyin Ayikade!”
The chef gave an extravagant wave of his hand. Michael and Greg, their bronzed chests bare, flaunting rippling muscles and wearing loin cloth, entered the room carrying Yoyin on an enormous silver platter.
It was a theatrical entrance, generating a lively buzz, gasps, and murmurs of approval followed by a thunderous applause.
“Magnificent! Outstanding! Beautiful!” some chorused as the chiseled men lowered the tray to the center of a long banquet table.
Yoyin, in naked splendor, was an exotic and delectable sight, with seaweed spiraling down her legs and up her arms. With her arms outstretched like a graceful ballerina, Yoyin was delicately posed with one palm cupping aioli dip and the other holding Asian sesame-ginger dip. Her lithe body, positioned provocatively with legs spread apart, presented the fleshy gates of her womanhood. Her mons was slathered with a creamy passion fruit spread.
Raw oysters and clams in shells, attractively arranged atop parsley and fresh basil garnish, decorated the outer circumference of the platter. Mounds of hibachi-grilled lobster, blackened mahi-mahi, curried salmon, and a medley of ginger sauce-basted tiger shrimp and large sea scallops were piled on a tray and placed between her spread legs in very close proximity to her opened vagina.
Freshly sliced exotic fruits were situated on both sides of her raised and secured arms, with a fragrant tahini-yogurt dip resting in the scooped pits of her arms.
A rich Cointreau-and-orange pâté and an apricot-and-lemon-grass pâté were spread on her thighs. Her tummy was decoratively covered with swirls of pâtés de fruit, and her navel was covered with a scoop of coconut and pineapple dip.
“Splendid!” Diners clamored, clapping their hands in appreciation of the display.
The enthusiastic response to her naked beauty sent a quiver of excitement passing through Yoyin. Lying perfectly still, she basked in the thrill of such unabashed admiration and high regard for her gorgeousness.
With the neck brace in place, she was unable to turn her head and view her appreciative guests, but their excited murmurs made her skin tingle. The dinner function was clever, indeed. Perhaps, she’d postpone calling the authorities and having Merrick’s sex operation shut down. It depended on the quantity and intensity of her orgasms. The jury was still out.
The guests were thoroughly captivated by her. Their murmurs and sighs of satisfaction enticed Yoyin. She longed to see the expressions on their faces, but was able to view only shadows from her peripheral vision; she had to rely on her other four senses.
Making the best of the temporary deficiencies, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the various sensations.
“The shrimp looks scrumptious,” a female voice said.
Yoyin frowned. Why would the woman make reference to shrimp when she could talk about the intricacies of Yoyin’s vagina? If the impudent chef had left her pussy jewelry in place, the conversation would undoubtedly be focused on her pussy and its glittering trinkets.
“I’m loading my plate with oysters. You know what they say about oysters and the male sex drive,” a man said, laughing.
Fuck oysters!
Yoyin sighed in exasperation, but she perked up when the man pressed his hardening penis against her bound arm as he reached for the oysters. His cock grew rigid as he slurped the oyster from the shell. She shivered with excitement at his nearness. He pushed his thickness into her flesh and then dragged it back and forth across her bare arm, ratcheting up her desire. Aching to get laid, Yoyin whimpered softly.
Men and women hovered over her. Helping themselves to the shellfish nestled inside the space between her legs, their fingers tauntingly brushed her sex and provoked lust with every touch. Yoyin sighed in disappointment as their teasing fingers moved on to different territory.
Her spirits lifted when a full-breasted woman bent to swirl shrimp into one of the pungent sauces settled inside Yoyin’s armpit. The sensation—though ticklish—aroused her, warming her insides with sexual heat.
“Try this, honey.” Yoyin heard a man say as he swiped what felt like a type of bread against her pineapple oil-flavored cunt.
“Mmm. Delicious,” the woman replied and then bent down and boldly flicked her tongue against Yoyin’s silken smooth mons, inciting Yoyin’s clit to spring to life—exposing itself from beneath the concealing hood—elongated and quivering with desire. Had her hands been unlocked, she would not have been able to control the urge to grab the back of the woman’s head, forcing her greedy mouth onto her throbbing clit.
She tried to part her legs wider, inviting someone—anyone—to venture downward and sample the natural flavors of the passion juice that bubbled inside her hot cunt, but the thin rope that held her legs open did not allow movement.
No one seemed to notice. They were all too busy stuffing their mouths, eagerly dipping seafood into sauces instead of plunging cocks and fingers inside her hungry opening. She whimpered, distressed. But she had no choice. She had to control herself and endure this frustrating aspect of the dining experience.
The chef had promised that after the guests’ ravenous appetites were satisfied, he would unshackle her and allow her to join in the after-dinner orgy. Until then, she resolved to savor
every brush against her skin, every tender caress, and every tongue flick.
Another man lewdly rubbed his crotch against the slab of her hip as he munched on lobster. His dick, long and impossibly thick, aroused her. Growing increasingly horny—almost drunk with sexual delirium, Yoyin was ready to demand that the stranger unsheathe his weapon and viciously plunge it inside her pussy.
But she didn’t. She dared not utter an audible word, lest she forfeit her first night of carnal pleasure. She’d committed to silence and to control her sexual impulses.
She was going to wait.
Be patient.
Practice some discipline.
She would wait to be cleansed and unbound. Then publicly, she would be gangbanged by every male diner. Her cunt would be savagely hammered until it was raw. She was particularly interested in test-riding the two men who had teased her with their hardened, zippered-in appendages.
After every morsel of food had been eaten, all the sauces and pates, swiped from her body surface and cavities, she felt lighter. And eager for the fun to commence.
“Guest number nine” she heard the chef call out. “Guest number nine has been randomly selected…”
“Number nine…That’s me!” an excited female voice exclaimed.
“As I said,” the chef said briskly, his voice filled with authority, “you’ve been randomly selected to enjoy the rich taste of imported oil, which is flavored with essence of orange and remains on your hostess’s outer vaginal regions. We ask at this time that you limit your tasting to her outer regions only. Remember, your aim is to taste the flavors, not to incite your hostess to orgasm.”
Disappointment turned down the corners of Yoyin’s lips. Why was the licking limited to her outer area? Her cunt was on fire. She couldn’t be held responsible if her pussy suddenly erupted with an outpour of tangy hot sauce.
Like a starving animal, guest number nine climbed on top of the table. Yoyin tensed with expectation as she felt long hair brush against her inner thighs. The woman stretched out her tongue, taste testing with tentative flicks, and then progressed to ardent licking. Using the full length of her tongue, she lathed one side of Yoyin’s pussy and then the other, carefully avoiding the moist and tasty center.
Unable to help herself, Yoyin murmured softly, writhed ever so gently, attempting to guide the woman’s mouth toward the gaping opening of her heated pussy. But guest number nine was an experienced diner, skillfully lapping at her outer pussy and avoiding all contact with Yoyin’s dripping core. The woman completely ignored her large, erect, and pleading-for-attention clit.
Damn you, bitch! Eat it, lick it, suck it!
Sexual pain shafted through her, but amazingly, she was able to exercise restraint. Very soon, all her hedonistic desires would be fulfilled—pairs of lips would kiss her cherry-smeared mouth and suck her chocolate-covered tits. Multiple mouths would alternate nibbling and feasting between her legs. Cocks of various sizes would slide into her gaping hole and give her intense, multiple orgasms.
Or so, she hoped.
A
rush of staff emerged from the kitchen. A curtain was held up, obscuring Yoyin from view. The flock of adept workers spritzed her body with a lemony cleaner and busily began wiping off all residues of sauces and seafood.
Though she couldn’t see him, she recognized Michael’s voice on the other side of the curtain. “I am so pleased that all of you could be here to welcome our newest guest at the villa. Yoyin has traveled all the way from Philadelphia to grace us with her rare beauty,” he said. “Our dear hostess has allowed our eyes to behold the splendor of her feminine physique and to indulge your taste buds with her unique and mouthwatering body flavors. I make a toast to the exquisitely beautiful and delicious Yoyin!”
“To Yoyin!” the diners chorused.
“In a few moments, dessert will be served.”
Ice ran through Yoyin’s veins.
Dessert! No! What in the hell was wrong with these gluttonous people?
They had the appetites of voracious, ravenous beasts. She wanted to shout and scream at them. She could not bear another second of their greedy tasting, touching and groping for food. She was ready to scoot off the platter to demand a forceful fucking from that faceless man who had brushed his impossibly long cock against her hip.
Where was he?
She wanted to yank her head free and demand he reveal himself. She yearned to cry out in sexual agony as scorching waves of lust threatened to melt the chocolate that molded her pebbled flesh.
Noticing Yoyin’s distress, the chef hurried to her side and then spoke in a hushed tone. “Be patient. Let your guests enjoy dessert. Immeasurable satisfaction is only moments away,” he assured her with a cryptic smile.
His words did not calm her. But her silence assured him that she’d allow the gluttonous diners to have their freakin’ dessert.
The chef gave orders to the cooking staff as they hurriedly arranged pastries and other desserts. “Place the macadamia fudge tortes along the stretch of her arms. The pineapple cream cheese pies can outline her legs.” He leaned downward and spoke directly to Yoyin. The
pûkini mai`a
…” As he inhaled, he explained, “It’s a rich banana pudding…will be spread on your tummy. Finally, chocolate truffles and coconut shavings will be sprinkled over you from head to toe.”
“Madam,” Louis said gently. She felt the heat of his body as he bent over her. “I’m going to paint your beautiful lips with a cherry glaze.” Louis wasn’t strikingly handsome as Michael and Greg, but he had kind eyes. Unlike the chef, Louis had a calm, reassuring quality that she found comforting.
“Pucker up,” Louis said with a smile in his voice and then applied the cherry glaze to her mouth using a thin bristled paintbrush. Each stroke felt like he was swiping his tongue against her lips.
Mmm.
She would save Louis for last and fuck him after the orgy. He’d be her nightcap. He was easygoing, the type who would honor her desire to be fucked until she fell asleep. She surely couldn’t rely on the two Hawaiian eunuchs to provide a hard-fucking sleeping aid.
“Your palms will be lubricated with vanilla cream,” Louis told Yoyin, as he slowly, sensually squeezed the mixture from a tube into her open palm.
“Don’t dawdle with the cream, Louis. I need to prepare her for entry,” the chef said, his tone stern as he held a paper-lined cupcake between his thumb and forefinger.
Louis joined the chef and positioned himself between Yoyin’s thighs. He stroked her open wet slit, stuck two fingers inside her tunnel, pressing against the walls, probing as he tested her depth. Satisfied, he withdrew his fingers and caressed and then lubed her folds with his thumbs.
Yoyin, being slowly driven over the brink, undulated and gave a sigh of tortured pleasure.
“Be careful! Don’t arouse her,” the chef warned. “Too much vaginal moisture could ruin the texture of the cake.”
“Sorry, Chef.” Using both thumbs, Louis stretched her splayed cunt even wider, revealing the deep pink lining. The chef invaded her private space—twisting and pushing—forcing the pastry inside the clenched walls of her sex.
Louis spread icing on the cupcake that protruded from her cunt. He massaged the petals until they plumped up, wrapping tightly around the base of the cupcake. He carefully applied a coating of icing to her enveloping labia. Yoyin winced and gave a low, painful groan as a wildfire of sexual fever seemed to burn her alive.
Gingerly, Louis moisturized her bud, stroking it to tautness until it grew sturdy and protruded. Yoyin lifted her butt, urgently meeting his touch. Soothingly, Louis ran a gentle finger along her elongated clit. Splintering shockwaves rocked her body. “Fuck me,” she pleaded, unable to help herself.
“It won’t be much longer, madam,” Louis assured her as he squeezed a thin stream of icing along the sensitized flesh.
With eyes glassy and wide, she fought back a moan. She struggled against the overwhelming desire to buck and release an outburst of heated shrieks. Consumed with frustration and anger, she muttered curses.
“Be calm,” Louis whispered, brushing back a wayward strand of her hair. “You’ll soon be rewarded beyond your expectations, but you must exercise discipline.”
The prolonged wait had her on the brink of delirium. Never had she wanted to engage in hedonistic sex as badly as she wanted to right now. She wanted two, three cocks invading her secret places—all at once. She wanted to eat a succession of pussies, sampling a variety of tangy flavors, one right after the other.
Controlling herself, she bit the inside of her lip. A hot stream of lust wet the icing glazing the lips of her sex. Through sheer will, she forced herself to lay inert. She’d invested too much time to combust into self-induced orgasm.
“She’s ready,” Louis informed the top chef, patting Yoyin’s bound wrist.
With a grand flourish, the chef ripped away the handheld curtain. “Dessert is served.”
Yoyin lay in the center of a delectable arrangement of chocolate truffles, coconut shavings, cupcakes, and crème pies. The desserts were attractively arranged on and around her beautiful, slender body.
The guests, now intoxicated, wore lewd expressions. The sight of Yoyin in all her splendor brought out raucous drunken mutterings instead of hushed murmurs of awe and adoration. Though Yoyin couldn’t see them, she sensed their moods and appearances had changed also. Neckties and belts had been loosened, carefully
coifed hair was mussed and tousled, lipstick and mascara smeared, clothing rumpled.
The ten diners with discriminating tastes swooped down like vultures, grabbing desserts and stuffing their mouths greedily. Crumbs fell from their lips, pudding gathered at the corners of their mouths. It was a repulsive and most undignified sight. Worse, they virtually ignored Yoyin, disregarding her as if she were as inanimate as the serving tray she lay upon. They moved about and came into view. She caught glimpses of their lewd expressions as they devoured crème pie. It was outrageous the way they were lusting after the dessert instead of her. She hated them, she decided, and she’d had enough of this farce.
“Unbind me,” she ordered Louis, who was in close proximity, soothing her by alternately stroking her hair and caressing the side of her face. His attentiveness reminded her of her attendants, but unlike Sebastian and Niklas, Louis could not cajole her into a better mood. “I said, unbind me!”
“Another moment,” he assured her, his voice filled with unspoken promises of hedonistic sex.
Hmph!
He was nothing like Sebastian or Niklas. Her attendants would never be so obstinate as to refuse her direct command. She felt rage boiling. “I want to leave this horrible island at once.”
“Relax and close your eyes,” Louis whispered in a calm voice that stilled her. Something in his tone persuaded her to trust him. “I’m going to blindfold you to sharpen your senses.” Before she could protest, he placed a velvet mask over her eyes. In the next instant, she smelled female fragrance, and a mouth claimed her cherry-covered lips. It was a woman’s kiss—petal soft, whispery, lipstick flavored. Buoyant breasts pressed against her. Yoyin’s pussy contracted, but all she could do was squirm and whimper.
“Mmm. Her kiss is sweet—like cherries,” a woman said. “Try some, darling,” she encouraged. A man bent over Yoyin. She could feel the tickle of his mustache. He doled out thick tongue strokes, lapping at the cherry stickiness until her lips were licked clean. His tongue, sweet with a combination of champagne and cherries, explored Yoyin’s mouth, prodding like an erect dick and making her intimate parts prickle with anticipation.
She heard a rustling sound and could feel the man’s arm moving rhythmically, busy elsewhere. Frustration flooded her when she heard a woman’s moan. The man who was kissing her was obviously pleasuring the woman with his hand.
“Deeper!” the woman moaned.
Yoyin tore her mouth away and called for Louis. “Unmask me, please. I need to see what’s going on.”
“Two of your guests—a married couple are using you for their sexual pleasure,” Louis whispered.
Before Yoyin could object, a thick finger slipped between her lips. The finger, obviously male, was coated with something tart, and then she realized with horror that he was giving her a taste of his wife’s cunt. Before she could scream a litany of vile profanity, he replaced his finger with his tongue. His hand slipped beneath his wife’s dress as he finger-fucked her as hard as he tongue-fucked Yoyin’s mouth. It was oh, so decadent and perversely erotic.
“Excuse me,” Louis interrupted. “We have to move things along.”
“Yes, of course,” the woman said, her tone holding an embarrassed tinge.
“Would you care for chocolate?” Louis asked, running a tender hand on Yoyin’s firm breast.
“Oh, yes!” the woman responded eagerly.
“Help yourself to the chocolate tits, honey, I want to try something else.”
Yoyin sensed the presence of curious onlookers, who no doubt sipped drinks while inspecting her. She felt hot resentment, commingled with dripping desire. Her conflicting emotions confused and frustrated her.
“I’ll have a taste,” said another female, her voice slightly slurred. Soon, two pairs of feminine lips nibbled at the chocolate molding encasing Yoyin’s nipples. Unable to stop herself, Yoyin arched her back, offering her chocolate-covered peaks to two pairs of anonymous lips.
They munched until they’d nibbled down to the skin of her aching pearls. Soft, sweeping hair caressed her arms. She imagined one was a blonde and the other brunette. Their swirling tongues were driving her mad. One woman sucked her nipple while the other grazed her teeth across Yoyin’s pebbled flesh, taking her to a frenzied height.
The sudden feeling of a huge cock sliding inside her cream-filled palm jolted her like an electric shock. Yoyin gasped and trembled. Her fist anxiously closed around the girth of the naked cock, providing a slippery sleeve for the erect dick.
“Gentlemen, your hostess has an available palm. Hurry while the cream is soft and fluffy.” It was Michael’s voice.
Ugh!
She stiffened at the sound of it.
“Where’s Louis?” Her voice was gritty with annoyance. The audacity of that smug eunuch to invite someone to stick his cock inside her hand. She was extremely satisfied with the dick she was presently holding, convinced that it was the same cock that had rubbed against her hip before dessert was served. If her wrists were free, she’d gladly offer both for the monstrously large cock to use as a fuck-sleeve.
Suddenly, a coarse beard scraped against her inner thigh. “Oh!” she murmured. The rough texture insinuated vulgar, raunchy
sex. The warmth of his breath as his lips drew near her cunt made her heart race. “Oh, yes,” she uttered, her voice raspy with desire. “Please take that pastry out of my cunt,” she pleaded, inching her buttocks upward.
The bearded man ignored her. He bit into the cupcake and began chewing. His rough beard bristled against her soft flesh, stoking her embers of desire. His jaw line pulsed against her shaved mons, notching up her burning need from embers to a raging fire.
The people around her buzzed with excitement. Some chanted, “Hurry! Enough already! Give that cunt some hard cock!”
Encouraging the slow-eating, bearded man to heed the good advice, Yoyin anxiously pushed her groin as close to his mouth as the ropes would allow. Caught in the frenzy, she shouted, “Eat the fucking cake!”
But the bearded man chewed and munched at a leisurely pace, his tongue darting, meticulously gathering crumbs. For added sweetness, his tongue scraped against Yoyin’s icing-covered labia and then sipped the moisture beads that seeped from her aroused slit.
Two sets of lips puckered around each tightly beaded nipple, a swollen dick pumped and shoved inside her curled fist, and the bearded man was crouched between her legs, munching cake. Flooded with multiple sensations, Yoyin lifted her ass, jutted out her groin trying to connect her heated flesh with his lips. The bearded man, content with eating cake, ignored her offer to munch on cunt. Frustrated, Yoyin was close to screaming for the authorities. The sex den deserved to be raided and shut down.
The two women, sufficiently aroused, abandoned Yoyin’s breasts and were now taking turns, giving each other head. Yoyin knew what they were doing because the guests went wild, cheering the women on, and even giving blow-by-blow descriptions.
“Look at that blonde go…that redhead’s cunt sure must be tasty; the blonde is gobbling it like she can’t get enough.”
Stirred by the crowd, the dick in Yoyin’s hand began to thump and then squirted a voluminous load of fluid. Yoyin yelped in disgust. Fixated on the horror of having a sticky glob of cum in her hand, she hadn’t realized that the bearded man had finally finished his dessert. Suddenly distracted by a tingling between her legs, she gritted her teeth in ecstasy as he slowly, deliberately, pulled the paper lining out of her hot cunt.
“Take off the blindfold,” Yoyin insisted and Michael did as he was told.
Her astonished eyes couldn’t believe what they saw. The man who she fully expected to fuck her hard and long, was being pulled away from Yoyin’s crotch by a woman with red lipstick smeared around her mouth. The woman with her smeared lips looked like a whore who sucked one too many dicks. Unfortunately, the bearded man found her appealing. The woman lifted her Versace dress, revealing the round of her hips, all the while moving backward and tugging the man along until she backed into a wall.