Dominance & Submission · EMOTIONS: · Fan-fiction · Free Smut! · Goofing Around · Hot Flashes · KINKS: · Lesbian Love · Persona · Smutty Fun

She Tasted Like Fire

Thank you again, to my patron maskofshame for requesting this new chapter!!

(also, whew!! this one gets horny quick so i’m just gonna set that Read More tag right away!)

you can also read this over at Archive of our Own!

“Elizabeth, what are you doing?”

“In absence of providing a second income for the household,” came Elizabeth’s matter-of-fact reply. “The stay-at-home partner will often take care of domestic tasks, such as cleaning, laundry, and preparing meals.”

With a gloved hand, Elizabeth gestured down her nude body, recumbent on the living room tatami. At precise intervals sat tantalizing pieces of sashimi on carefully packed beds of rice, a rainbow trail of texture and color down her pale skin, ending just before the scruffy pile of platinum-blonde pubic hair. “Thus I encourage you to ‘dig in.’”

“Can I take off my jacket first?” Minako asked.

Well, that explained where Elizabeth had scampered off to at 5 AM this morning without explanation. Minako didn’t have the heart to say that the whole ‘sushi on a naked girl’ thing was something she’d only seen done in American movies.

Yes… the heart, that was why. It certainly had nothing to do with how the ceramic saucer poised precariously between Elizabeth’s small breasts was eating up two-thirds of her mental bandwidth by itself.

“Madame,” Elizabeth droned, with heightened, affected nonchalance. “Your dinner’s getting warm…” A quirk of her brow, a touch of a finger to her lips. “In parts.” Then, of course, the necessary shudder of her hips. “—and cooler, in others.”

Minako had never removed a pair of shoes faster in her life.

It was ridiculous, of course, kneeling next to her lover in their small living room, brushing the lint away from her drab office skirt and blushing like a teenager as Elizabeth took her hand and closed it around fine pair of lacquerware chopsticks—well of course they were fine, she’d bought them. And they were only for…

The dense, oily sheen of the soy sauce contrasted just so with the otherworldly paleness of Elizabeth’s skin.

…special occasions…

She’d explain later that sushi prepared this way was generally eaten by hand.

The smell of Elizabeth wafted through the air. Arousal—clear, evident, so painstakingly obvious in its impatience, which only stoked Minako’s frustration all the more. To be with Elizabeth was to be party to these caprices, to go along with every ridiculous inch of her schemes, knowing that she burned just as anxiously for you as you did for her, and knowing it was akin to a game to her—a playful tease, repeated ad nauseam, until one or the other broke…

Right now, Minako felt as if she were a viewer inside her own body, watching as a skillful mistress worked her puppet strings. Chopsticks etched swooping red lines through Elizabeth’s flesh, as they approached the first piece.

Well… it… certainly…

Seized it, and brought it to her lips…

The tuna melted upon her tongue. The taste of fresh fish, simply prepared, was overwhelming. Minako bounced lightly in her seat, thighs bobbing against the bottoms of her feet, and lower lip trembling with the pleasure of the simple, fatty taste.

…kept things…

She looked down, to watch Elizabeth watching her. Her eyes focused on the bead of saliva suspended between Elizabeth’s lips, parted in cheshire smile.


Minako took a breath, centered herself. She unfocused her vision, concentrated on the burning in her ears, the clamminess arousal brought to her neck, and the delicate weight of Elizabeth’s fingers around her wrist, luring her to each delectable mouthful. Mild yellowtail, buttery salmon. Explosions of taste threatened her already precarious composure. She swallowed, reciting inwardly the one zen koan she could remember. She wouldn’t lose, not this time.

Minako’s tongue dallied against the unique taste emblazoned on the bottom layer of each precious little pile of rice—that of the peculiar serving dish laid out before her. An artisan’s signature. The tang of salt, the hint of skin, the flavor of…


Minako was a queen, before her court, with many servant girls to fan her and keep away the summer heat—as she was dressed in robes as cumbersome as her duties. Elizabeth, her foolish jester, now laid out in punishment for her whimsical little tongue, exposed for all the ladies of the court to see, as the queen consumed her modest meal. Yes, this was what it was like to rule, Minako thought. To be so powerful that she could tame even this capricious, otherworldly fae spirit. Indeed, who else but the lovely and terrifying Minako could claim such a distinction—

The meaty punchy of the eel brought her back to her senses like a defibrillator shock.

Unconsciously, she dug her nails into Elizabeth’s thigh, prompting a giggle and a writhe. Elizabeth’s keen eyes noted the soy sauce shivering in its saucer. “Focus, my dear.” She chastised, with a purse of her bee-stung lips, and an instructive glance down her body. Elizabeth relieved the paralyzed Minako of the chopsticks, setting them aside. “We need to cleanse your palate, so you can enjoy the final course.”

Without breaking eye contact, Elizabeth retrieved a finely cut sliver of ginger from the living room table. She set eyes on Minako, screwing their gazes together, and Minako found herself unable to look away from the offering pinched between the fingers of Elizabeth’s left hand, even as she watched Elizabeth’s right hand slide over one of her small breasts, and down the bared expanse of her small body… over the svelte curve of her stomach… between her legs…

A whimper crept from Minako’s soul. The ginger. It glistened, as Elizabeth guided it between her parted lips.

The purifying taste rippled over Minako’s overstimulated tongue. It kicked the breath from her lungs. Her eyesight blurred. There was no resistance left in her, no will remaining to hold tight to the rules of Elizabeth’s silly game. It always ended like this, her capitulation, her crumbling. Minako could wind so many shackles around herself, but this woman would break them all.

Thus, Minako was defenseless, shuddering, senseless, when Elizabeth’s gloved finger penetrated her lips a final time, to paint them with the pungent, ferocious flavor of her cunt.





Squeals of glee, as Minako yanked Elizabeth’s hips bodily off the ground were quickly curtailed when shoulders drove under knees and lips hit cunt. The soy sauce toppled over, spilling down Elizabeth’s body in streaks and spidering out over the tatami.

Unleashed, Minako set upon Elizabeth with wolfish desire, inhaling the overwhelming bouquet of piquant scent—the . Gloved fingers groped down, staining with soy sauce along Elizabeth’s stomach, to tangle in Minako’s hair. Elizabeth’s pale, fragile skin bruised at the thighs, with the crush of Minako’s grip. Elizabeth’s feet groped possessively at Minako’s back, relishing in the silken softness of her blouse. Hips beat upwards, against nose, with the drive of Minako’s tongue into her. She cried out, and her feet kicked the air on either side of Minako’s roiling body. Tongue painted against cunt, jaws and hips trembled, fingers shook, and then bodies too. It never took her long to climax. The foreplay was the game, but the game was more than foreplay. She was primed, long before Minako had her in her clutches. Her body seething and ready, despite her outward poise, and all those capricious smiles. A slavering rove of Minako’s tongue, was all it took. A kiss upon the button of her clit, and…

Minako always loved how Elizabeth climaxed; not with moans, but giggles.

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