He made this sushi model laugh! (M/F)

[waterman]

A Grinnerverse tale​

The private room at Hanabira no Yoru restaurant was bathed in a rarefied atmosphere, as if the air itself trembled with silent tension. Paper lamps cast soft shadows on the dark wooden walls. Mei, the model, felt exposed as never before: her naked body decorated with sashimi, shrimp, and curls of fresh daikon, lying on a shiny lacquered surface that reflected the faces of the diners.

Her career was divided between magazine photo shoots, small appearances in television commercials, and occasional jobs that her agency found for her in New York. Her slender physique but well-proportioned chest, combined with her Asian heritage, which manifested itself in her sharp, penetrating black eyes, was a charm that had helped her win over the wealthy Tod Grinn, a New York real estate entrepreneur with as many cars as he had lovers, unbeknownst to her.

Mei didn't take it well and left him, trying not to dwell on the dark threats he had made to her. But her financial situation had not improved, so she had to accept any job available.

When the agency offered her a week's work as a nyotaimori, a sushi model, for the prestigious Hanabira no Yoru, she was initially hesitant, but after being informed about the nature of the job, she decided it was a challenge worth accepting.

So-called ‘sushi models’ are girls trained to act as ‘human plates’ during special tastings, with portions of sushi placed on their naked bodies for diners to eat. It is a presentation that combines a taste for food, visual spectacle and erotic undertones, and above all requires great professionalism on the part of the models. Not only must they not hesitate to show their bodies, but they must also remain firmly still during the tasting.

Mei had already posed nude as a model and considered herself perfectly capable of remaining impassive while her naked body was the object of lewd glances. After all, she did not have to talk to the diners, and they were required not to disturb her so as not to ruin the performance. So, if it hadn't been for the noise of chatter around the table, she could have even taken a nap!

There was certainly no shortage of guests that evening. Mei had been laid naked on the table, except for a tiny thong, and the sushi portions had been placed on her body. The temperature was pleasant and she was in no danger of getting cold. Everything seemed to be going well.

But soon, that illusion vanished.

The man who sat at the edge of the table, followed by a group of male and female friends, was Tod Grinn, her ex. It couldn't be a coincidence! Had that scoundrel followed her? He wanted to delight in the sight of her naked body while his worthy companions feasted on her flesh?

Tod pretended not to recognize her, but Mei saw him whisper something to a man next to him, who shortly afterwards relayed it to the woman accompanying him, who giggled and nodded in agreement.

She could be wrong, but she had the impression that they were a couple, husband and wife, close friends of his from college, whom she had met briefly once in his office. Probably that slimy man had told them something funny about her to humiliate her.

Mei discreetly swallowed the bad mood that was pervading her and closed her eyes, determined not to give that pig any satisfaction. She would hold out through dinner and call him the next day to tell him to go to hell.

But the evening would not go as she expected.

The first shiver struck her when he casually brushed his finger against the arch of her left foot. The skin on the sole, already hypersensitive from being still and tense, reacted with an internal jolt that she stifled by clenching her teeth. It could have been a coincidence, but it wasn't.

Tod began a slow, light movement with his fingertips, tracing small spirals on the pad under her toes. His short nails moved with a subtle rhythm, almost imperceptible to the eyes of others, but devastating to the model's sensitivity. Each turn of his fingers was like a needle pricking her self-control: her thighs stiffened, her abdomen contracted with small jolts. In her mind, Mei repeated to herself not to move, not to give in, but her breathing began to betray her, turning into a faster wave that made her sushi-decorated chest rise.

At first, she thought it was simply an attempt by the man to send seductive signals to push her to forgive him, but she gradually realized that her ex's intent was quite different.

When Tod's fingers began to explore the base of her toes, gently passing underneath them and moving up with small scratches, an explosion of tingling ran up her legs. The sensation was like a thousand light insects walking on her skin, and her lips opened in an imperceptible tremor, ready to turn into a hysterical smile. His fingers then moved to the sides of her foot, where the skin was thinner and more vulnerable: with quick, alternating touches, Tod pressed lightly, but the effect was like an escalation of electric shocks. The model felt a warmth rising from her lower abdomen to her chest, mixed with the terror of not being able to stop laughing.

Bastard! He was deliberately tickling her feet, and he knew how much she hated it! Did he want to force her to laugh and squirm and ruin the exhibition? But she had been through far worse. They were just scratches on her bare skin, nothing terrible. A little self-control, and he would eventually tire himself out.

The real torture began when Tod started running his fingertip along the inside arch of her foot, slowly stroking back and forth, as if polishing her skin. Each movement sent a wave of tickling more intense than the last, as if her brain could no longer ignore the constant stimulation. Her knees contracted imperceptibly, her abdominal muscles tensed in waves to control the spasm, while tiny tremors ran through her hips.

Tod didn't miss that reaction, and a sadistic grin appeared on his face. Mei noticed his petty pleasure in exercising power over her, which he had already shown, and she was afraid.

Fortunately, she was in a public place where he could do nothing but annoy her.

But wasn't it forbidden for diners to touch the models inappropriately? Why didn't anyone intervene to call him to order? Perhaps he had paid someone to have free rein?

At that point, Tod's two accomplices came into play. The man took the chopsticks and, instead of pointing them at the sushi, began to brush Mei's skin with the smooth tips, tracing slow circles on her hips, moving down towards the sides of her abdomen. The smooth wood, warm after being held, created an icy contrast with the model's hot skin, who perceived every millimeter of that light pressure as refined torture.

“Ih ih ih... snort... igh igh...”

Mei couldn't help herself, and her vocal cords, in a moment of poor control, produced a sequence of stifled giggles that rose up her throat to emerge in a stunted but clearly audible manner. The man turned his head toward Tod, who returned the look with a sly glance.

The woman, on the opposite side, used her chopsticks to gently tap the spot below Mei's ribs, where her sensitivity was most acute: quick, short strokes that seemed to strike the center of her self-control, causing her breath to falter and turn into a series of small sobs.

The other diners were busy eating sushi or chatting among themselves: at one point, someone noticed the maneuvers of the three companions and, amused by the scene, began to stare at the model to study her reactions.

Her attempts to resist turned into a Herculean effort: every muscle fiber in her body trembled, like a taut string ready to snap. Her jaw was clenched so tightly that her teeth ached, while her nostrils flared with each increasingly rapid exhalation. Her mind was a whirlwind of terror and embarrassment: she knew that if she moved, her career would suffer, yet her body no longer responded as she wanted it to.

Tod, satisfied with her initial reactions, took a step forward: he began to gently pinch the folds between her toes, as if he wanted to make her skin vibrate with continuous micro-stimuli. Each pinch was an immediate explosion of tickling that rose up like a sudden wave, forcing her to emit small, stifled moans.

“Gasp... nhnhn... mmh ah ah!”

the girl began to mumble against her will.

Despite the traditional music in the background, those sounds were audible as embarrassing rustles. Her legs began to twitch more often, her heels instinctively pressing against the table in a desperate attempt to escape.

“Try to stay still, babe, I can't eat like this!” said the man who had been watching the ticklers' maneuvers, to tease her. Someone else was amused by the model's purely human reactions, while someone else snorted in sincere annoyance.

The accomplices continued their part: the chopsticks slid faster and faster over the skin of her belly, changing pressure and speed as if in a dance designed to stimulate maximum sensitivity.

Sometimes they barely touched her skin, leaving behind a cold shiver, other times they tapped with quick, light strokes, like a fine but persistent rain.

“Ah ah ah... ah!”

Mei began to give in. By now, her resolve not to open her mouth had gone to hell.

“Come on, Tod, stop it!” said one of the diners who had noticed his actions.

“What's wrong with her having a little fun with us?” replied one of his accomplices mockingly.

The breaking point was fast approaching when Tod, with a mocking smile, decided to use both hands: with one, he began to lightly scratch the pads of her heels, while with the other, he traced rapid lines up and down along the arches of her feet. The simultaneous tickling of different points was unbearable: Mei began to gurgle with low laughter, interrupted by involuntary sobs that made the pieces of sushi on her chest vibrate. Every time she tried to hold back the sound, a new, stronger stimulus made it burst like a champagne cork.

“Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha!”

Mei began to laugh uncontrollably and squirm. Damn Tod, he knew her weak spot well!

The women at the table began to grow impatient with these sudden movements that made it difficult to grab the sushi, while the men followed with their eyes the movements of her chest, which, as it shook, gradually freed itself of more and more portions of food to reveal what was underneath.

Her accomplices increased the level of torment by passing their chopsticks under her armpits, a brief but ruthless gesture: the extremely sensitive layer of skin made her shoulder muscles jump, while the rest of her body remained tense like a bow. The pressure of the tickling combined from three different sides—feet, hips, armpits—created a wave of uncontrollable stimulation that ran through Mei's entire nervous system like wildfire.

When Tod increased the speed, running his fingers with quick, light movements from her forefoot to her fingertips, Mei's laughter exploded in a shrill, uncontrolled tone.

“Aaaaa ah, ah ah aha ah! Stoooop!”

Mei began to scream, unable to take it anymore. The attempt to remain impassive to the tickling while her sensitive areas were being titillated by fingers and chopsticks had become unbearable.

Her legs buckled, her body jerked forward with a jolt that sent the nigiri flying and overturned the soy sauce bowls. Her laughter, high-pitched and desperate, filled the room like a metallic echo. The diners, stunned, moved away abruptly, some with their mouths open and chopsticks suspended in midair.

Everyone in the restaurant saw the sushi model kicking in the air and then falling to the floor in hysterical laughter.

The restaurant owner, appearing like a shadow, covered the girl with a light kimono and led her out of the room with a cold expression. Mei walked with weak legs, her shoulders shaking with residual laughter that was still struggling to subside. A waiter appeared, apologizing for the unexpected incident and offering the diners another table where they would soon be served again.

Tod Grinn didn't miss a moment of the scene; the humiliation of the naked girl apologizing to the owner was balm to his ears.

He was sure he would be the last one laughing that evening, and he was right.

But not in the way he thought.

*

That night, Tod was sleeping in his luxury apartment, dazed by the generous amount of cocktails he had sipped with his friends after the performance.

He didn't hear the sound of keys opening the door, nor the feline rustling of two bare feet that silently made their way to the bedroom. His loud snoring was interrupted by the faint sound of black straps being fiddled with, ideal for fetish games, which quickly immobilized his arms and legs at the edge of the bed.

Tod only woke up when a thick duvet was rubbed over his face.

“Mei! How did you... damn it, the keys! You didn't give them back to me!”

“You never asked me for them. Were you too busy thinking about how to make fun of me? Well, this time I'll be the one making you laugh.”

Then, with the slowness of a professional, she began to titillate his feet with her perfectly manicured nails, alternating between very slow caresses and sudden touches and quick strokes on the soles, studying his every reaction.

Tod realized that the woman was ruthlessly serious, there was no reminiscence of the fetish games they had entertained themselves with, only the desire to torture him with his own coin. And with all the noise he used to make when he brought girls home, it was unlikely that anyone would notice anything unusual.

“Mei ah ah ah, Mei, stoop ah ah aha I can't stand it oh oh oh!”

“What did you think, that I was the only one who was ticklish? How does it feel to be tortured?”

Every burst of laughter from Tod was met with a smile from Mei, who varied the pressure like a musician changing rhythm. At times she focused only on the arch of his foot, tracing parallel lines with the tip of her index finger, at other times she pinched his toes as if she were tuning an instrument, causing uncontrollable laughter that shook the whole bed.

The alternation between gentle and sudden stimuli, between circular movements and light scratches, continued for hours in a crescendo that drained Tod of all his energy. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his body writhed, unable to stop the cruel dance. Mei watched his muscles tense and relax with each new wave of tickling, listening to the sound of laughter like a symphony that brought back every moment of suffering she had experienced that evening.

“Please, please, stop, stop, ah, ah, I beg you, what do you want?” the man pleaded through his tears.

"Let's see... you made me lose my job, I'd say I deserve compensation, don't you think?

While I work out a fair amount, let's have a few more laughs, shall we?"