How do you feel about being used as a platter, on which everyone’s dinner is served? That’s the premise behind nyotaimori – a kink that, in Japanese, literally means ‘serve food from a woman’s body’. Hot, obviously. Even hotter, the excitable kinkster who is here to write about it is Jenby Doll, whose work you will I hope be familiar with from such epic adventures as this romantic needle/staple play scene, this incredible bimbofication play, and even actual induced lactation. I am always excited when she appears with a new guest blog pitch, and her first nyotaimori scene sounds not only delicious but outrageously horny. So! Please welcome Jenby, onegaishimasu.
Sushi couture – my first nyotaimori scene
It started out as an excuse to test drive the nipple screws I’d bought as a Mother’s Day gift to my girlfriend.
There’s a perfectly normal English sentence.
We rocked up to the club, me in the pink Juicy Couture tracksuit I only bought because it turns my gothier half on like nothing else, her in a lacy indigo number which accentuated her breasts beautifully, although that was fated to come off almost immediately.
My gift to her, a set of iridescent oil slick nipple screws, were shaped like stars, because her name is Star, she’s a star, and today I wanted there to be no doubt that she was the star.
Originally I’d planned on one of our D-types being the first to punish her tits with the pretty toys, but given that today it was just us, her other partner and a couple of our friends, I decided to take it upon myself to wield the torture implements, and as soon as I did that I started imagining all the other fun things I could co-opt for kinky purposes, including a tack bra, pallet wrap and a condom hood.
Soon enough she was trussed up, her nipples nicely tenderised by the screws and now firmly skewered by the teeth of the tack bra, which was held in place by layer upon layer of clear plastic, while I and our friends took turns using her for stress relief.
When I finally peeled the latex from her face and removed the slimy sheath from her throat, I asked what she needed in terms of aftercare, and she revealed she’d forgotten to pick up snacks.
An elegant solution seemed to be moving onto the next scene, which was me bottoming for my first nyotaimori.
Now I love forniphilia as much as the next sub, but as Star started to pallet wrap my arms and hands, pinioning them to my sides, I began to wonder if she perhaps had more in mind than simply using me as a platter.
My limbs now satisfactorily useless, Star produced the box of vegan sushi we’d picked up earlier – a fact that made the lack of aftercare treats yet more baffling – and began to arrange the rolls on my tremulous tummy.
In short order there were three pairs of hands caressing me, seeking out my exposed stomach’s most sensitive spots in the hope my mounting quivers might cause the food adorning me to roll off, inviting punishment. And sure enough, before long I had a set of chopsticks tugging at my nipple through the pallet wrap.
‘This one looks the juiciest, but I can’t seem to get any purchase…’
‘Just spear it…’
I stifled a yelp in a bid not to lose more rolls. If I didn’t know better I’d say it was almost as though Star had contrived this whole situation to get her own back for the tit torment from earlier, but I’m a good deal more charitable than that, so I won’t.
Next came the soy sauce, which the threesome ladled over me until it pooled in my belly button.
‘Aww, you don’t just make a good plate, you’re a great bowl too!’
Star swooped in to slurp the sauce from my navel, and as she did so I slipped further into subspace than I’ve been in ages, the stillness in my mind creating a pleasant contrast to the busyness of the banquet happening above.
The ceiling began to blur and dilate as I settled into my role as object, just a pretty platter on which to serve my superiors their well-deserved feast.
I hadn’t expected to feel quite so profoundly subby but the matter-of-fact way in which everyone carried on with their meal, chatting happily and casually commenting on the food while largely ignoring me besides the occasional teasing of some of my more tender body parts did a pretty good job of disabusing me of any silly notions of personhood.
Inevitably however I was shaken from my reverie when Star placed a dab of wasabi under my nose, and what began as a faint tingle quickly built to an insistent sting.
My moans brought on renewed gales of laughter as Star hoovered up the last few scraps of food, scattered the edamame beans which remained in the sushi box over my abdomen, and parked herself on my face so she could get ate while she ate. Unfortunately I happen to have a mole on my tummy which was the same size and shape as said beans, and with the deep purple light of the club making differentiating them nigh-on impossible, there was soon yet more unwanted attention from those jabbing chopsticks, which could only have pleased the woman with my overly excitable tongue nestled inside her.
It was almost as though…
But again, one doesn’t like to be uncharitable.