YF - Chapter 7

With delicious, beautiful sushi balanced artfully on every inch of her exposed skin, Riley is placed on a low table in a spacious room in front of dozens of men and women. Aki is not one of them.

They murmur, pleased with the spectacle and impressed.

Riley is erection and a single morsel is balanced on the end of her cock. If she gets soft, it will fall. That would be unacceptable. She concentrates as the onlookers talk among themselves and praise the excellent presentation.

These are bosses from all the families in Shinjuku. Baihara and the others are here as well. At first, Baihara looks pleased as she enters the room and sits, her eyes on Riley. But as she listens to praise being heaped on the Aramaki for this specimen, she starts to look annoyed.

Riley remains perfectly still. Her muscles burn and she can barely breathe, but holds without even trembling: the perfect table for this meal. She doesn’t twitch when she’s poked with a chopstick and she doesn’t react when she hears the quiet noise of a cell phone picture being taken.

To stay hard, she has **** but to think about various things. Precum drools steadily from her dangling cock. From the corner of her eye, Riley sees one of the women from a different family lick her lips.

The Yakuza compliment Baihara on her generous offer of Riley as the entertainment and serving dish, which she accepts gratefully, although it’s clear that this has not gone the way that she intended. After the pleasantries, the Yakuza start to talk business. This is to Riley’s advantage. She listens and files away as much as she can as the sushi is plucked from her body.

Baihara herself takes the piece on Riley’s cock, making sure to drag her chopsticks along the shaft. Riley can’t help but shudder, but hardly anyone notices when serious business is being discussed. Baihara wanted to see Riley humiliated and herself praised, but she miscalculated.

Baihara can’t take it. Her temper snaps.

“Oi,” she snaps at Riley, interrupting the men who are talking. “Didn’t you promise me milk tea?” She slams her cup of tea to the table underneath Riley’s cock and sits back, smirking.

Just like that, she has **** Riley to do the impossible: a feat of meditative concentration that only the greatest martial artists can achieve. Riley has only been in Japan for one year.

But she has trained hard. Everyone is looking at her. The other Yakuza are impressed by the demand. Riley conjures a single image and holds it in her mind: Aki, back at the soccer camp in America. In the cabin where the girls slept eight to a room, Riley sees Aki sitting on her bunk in plain white panties and an undershirt, brushing her hair. In Riley’s memory, Aki’s firm nipples poke through the undershirt. Aki’s phone makes a sound and she sets aside her brush and gets on her hands and knees to grab the phone, her cotton panties stretched across her round bottom.

Riley sighs in the present. Her cock twitches and leaps. A white string of semen shoots into Baihara’s cup. Baihara’s eyes widen in shock and outrage.

“Amazing!”

The Yakuza are impressed with Riley’s display of skill.

Red with anger, Baihara has **** but to pick up her cup and drink. She gambled poorly again. Riley is under no illusions; this isn’t a victory. She’s only making Baihara hate her more.