Valley Sake in a Livestock World (2)
Ryosuke was talking about valley sake. It was originally a rare act seen only in high-end pleasure dens. More precisely, it wasn't just for enjoyment but a form of hospitality culture. This practice, which had nearly died out long ago, had been revived in Japan thanks to livestock. Of course, it still wasn't mainstream culture.
"Now, squeeze your legs together!"
For valley sake, the woman serving as the plate first had to press her legs together as tightly as possible. Once the plate did so, a space formed around her crotch. Then, sake from a bottle was slowly poured over her lower abdomen or breasts, letting it cascade like a waterfall. Most of the sake spilled out, but some gathered along her belly and flowed down toward her pussy. It truly became a waterfall tumbling into a valley.
The guest receiving the service simply pressed his mouth to the pooled sake in the valley and drank. It was a simple form of hospitality. Hygienically speaking, it wasn't great, but it gave the psychological satisfaction of conquering the woman right in front of you—a straightforward and effective pleasure. That's why it never fully died out. And of course, with Japan's Prime Minister Ryosuke indulging in it, there was no chance of eradication.
Tojima hurriedly drank the pooled sake. The suction from his lips as he greedily sucked it up transmitted directly to the plate.
"……Hngh, ahngh."
Normally, just drinking the sake wouldn't make the plate moan like this. But Tojima, with his rather extreme tastes, buried his face straight into her pussy while sipping the valley sake. Her pubic hair had already been completely removed, so nothing obstructed him.
"Excellent sake flavor. Now I'm curious about the taste down here too."
The sake was already mixed with the plate's love juices from earlier spills. He'd even teased her once with chopsticks. But this was a slightly different approach now. Tojima's lips began roughly sucking on her clitoris.
"Ahhh! Ahk! Haaangh!"
"There, good girl? Let me taste that clit."
Under Tojima's rough tongue work, the plate's face gradually flushed red. Before long, unable to ignore the sensations, she started shaking her head and sobbing.
"For livestock furniture, she doesn't seem properly trained. If she can't even endure this, how can she fulfill her role as furniture?"
Tojima's words sounded like a threat. The plate began trembling violently at them.
"……Prime Minister, doesn't she need re-education?"
At the mention that the man before her was the Prime Minister, the plate shook like a leaf in the wind. If it was the Prime Minister, he really could send her back to the livestock store. And if that happened, she'd have to endure that horrific terror all over again. Anything but that—she'd rather die.
"……I-I'll do anything. Please, not re-education."
During her time at the livestock store, she'd seen furniture that needed re-education arrive. It meant they'd resisted or failed in their duties as furniture. In the end, the ones who returned had been retrained for hardcore uses. The most horrific one she'd witnessed was having all four limbs amputated and turned into a doll. Imagining herself like that, tears flowed uncontrollably.
"In that case……."
Tojima lifted the thighs of the furniture lying on the table. Her entrance, now slick and glistening with arousal, came into view. Tojima slowly undid his lower garments. His cock sprang out, rock-hard. Thanks to the constant clit stimulation with his mouth until moments ago, the plate was fully aroused. It was time for insertion.
Tojima's cock began pushing into her depths. It pierced her inner walls, and as it thrust deep, the plate let out an involuntary scream of pain despite herself.
"Agh! Ahk!"
With her scream, the plate arched her back like a bow. Even though it was just penetration, it wasn't easy to endure.
"What a waste for mere furniture—this grip is too good!"
To Tojima, the plate's vaginal pressure felt like a snake's body tightly coiling around his cock. After thrusting his hips vigorously for a while, Tojima came refreshingly inside her.
"……Impressive. I'd love to take this furniture home."
Tojima looked deeply satisfied, a rare sight.
"Why don't you take her then?"
At Ryosuke's question, Tojima called over the waiter.
"How much to buy this furniture?"
The waiter looked troubled for a moment before fetching the owner. The shop owner entered, spotted Ryosuke, and bowed deeply.
"……I'll give her to you for free."
Knowing who Ryosuke was, the owner showed such deference.
"Can't just take her for free—here, take this."
Tojima pulled a check from his pocket and handed it over. It was more than enough to buy new furniture. The owner took the check, bowed, and vanished.
"You're coming with me now."
Seeing Tojima's sinister smile, the plate's eyes darkened with despair.
"But first, let's have some fun."
Tojima pulled a tool from the bag he always carried. The moment the plate saw what it was, hope drained from her eyes.
"What's that?"
"A tattoo machine."
Ryosuke eyed the clattering device in disbelief.
"Why bring that?"
"She's mine now, so I can customize her however I want, right?"
Livestock and furniture had a customization system—literally, modifications tailored to the owner's desires. Tojima was saying he'd customize this furniture to his liking. Probably with tattoos.
Tojima picked up the machine and approached the plate, who was already fully exposed.
"I'll mark you myself. Proof that you're my property."
Tojima immediately gagged her mouth to prevent any screams.
"Mmph! Mmmph!!!"
"Haven't even started yet—hold on a bit."
Tattoos were undoubtedly excruciating without anesthesia or pain relief. The plate would surely break down crying. And that was exactly what Tojima truly craved.
"Just endure a little. Once this is done, you'll be thrilled to be my property instead of rotting as this restaurant's furniture."
Tick, tick-tick. The needle moved, carving wounds into her flesh. Dye seeped slowly beneath, and the plate convulsed in agony. Tears poured from her eyes, her face flushed deep red. Her tensed body dripped sweat. And with every moment, patterns etched onto her skin one by one.
The machine's whirring continued for a long while, accompanied by her endless muffled screams.
"Beautiful pattern. Now, finally, right here."
The tattoo needle headed toward her lower body—specifically, her pubic mound. Seeing it, the plate thrashed her head wildly.
"Mmph! Mmmph!"
That spot would hurt like hell even from a single prick. Tears streamed as she begged silently for mercy there, unaware that her tears only delighted perverts like Tojima even more.
Pierce. The moment the needle stabbed her clitoris, the plate showed a different reaction. Her ears turned beet red. But no scream came—pain too intense to voice.
The machine kept working over it. It felt less like ornate art and more like deliberate torture.
Once all the tattoos were done, ornate patterns adorned her shoulder and lower belly. Her clitoris bore a small, dotted design.
"Prime Minister, feel it yourself."
Ryosuke gripped the plate's breast, her nipple stiff from tension. The tattooing had been hell—she drooled tears and saliva.
"Nice feel. Guess I'll have to visit your place now and then for this."
"Come anytime. I'll treat you to something special next time."
"Oh, I definitely will."
Ryosuke smiled—it was time to leave. Only then did Tojima call his secretary. She entered at his signal, and he gestured lightly.
"Load this one up."
An order to put her in the car. Back home, her life wouldn't differ much from here. She'd be tormented whenever Tojima summoned her. But maybe it was better than constant humiliation as a plate. Occasional abuse might beat daily degradation, right?