Disciplined by Allison Hobbs Page A

handsome as Michael and Greg, but he had kind eyes. Unlike the chef, Louis had a calm, reassuring quality that she found comforting.
    “Pucker up,” Louis said with a smile in his voice and then applied the cherry glaze to her mouth using a thin bristled paintbrush. Each stroke felt like he was swiping his tongue against her lips. Mmm. She would save Louis for last and fuck him after the orgy. He’d be her nightcap. He was easygoing, the type who would honor her desire to be fucked until she fell asleep. She surely couldn’t rely on the two Hawaiian eunuchs to provide a hard-fucking sleeping aid.
    “Your palms will be lubricated with vanilla cream,” Louis told Yoyin, as he slowly, sensually squeezed the mixture from a tube into her open palm.
    “Don’t dawdle with the cream, Louis. I need to prepare her for entry,” the chef said, his tone stern as he held a paper-lined cupcake between his thumb and forefinger.
    Louis joined the chef and positioned himself between Yoyin’s thighs. He stroked her open wet slit, stuck two fingers inside her tunnel, pressing against the walls, probing as he tested her depth. Satisfied, he withdrew his fingers and caressed and then lubed her folds with his thumbs.
    Yoyin, being slowly driven over the brink, undulated and gave a sigh of tortured pleasure.
    “Be careful! Don’t arouse her,” the chef warned. “Too much vaginal moisture could ruin the texture of the cake.”
    “Sorry, Chef.” Using both thumbs, Louis stretched her splayed cunt even wider, revealing the deep pink lining. The chef invaded her private space—twisting and pushing—forcing the pastry inside the clenched walls of her sex.
    Louis spread icing on the cupcake that protruded from her cunt. He massaged the petals until they plumped up, wrapping tightly around the base of the cupcake. He carefully applied a coating of icing to her enveloping labia. Yoyin winced and gave a low, painful groan as a wildfire of sexual fever seemed to burn her alive.
    Gingerly, Louis moisturized her bud, stroking it to tautness until it grew sturdy and protruded. Yoyin lifted her butt, urgently meeting his touch. Soothingly, Louis ran a gentle finger along her elongated clit. Splintering shockwaves rocked her body. “Fuck me,” she pleaded, unable to help herself.
    “It won’t be much longer, madam,” Louis assured her as he squeezed a thin stream of icing along the sensitized flesh.
    With eyes glassy and wide, she fought back a moan. She struggled against the overwhelming desire to buck and release an outburst of heated shrieks. Consumed with frustration and anger, she muttered curses.
    “Be calm,” Louis whispered, brushing back a wayward strand of her hair. “You’ll soon be rewarded beyond your expectations, but you must exercise discipline.”
    The prolonged wait had her on the brink of delirium. Never had she wanted to engage in hedonistic sex as badly as she wanted to right now. She wanted two, three cocks invading her secret places—all at once. She wanted to eat a succession of pussies, sampling a variety of tangy flavors, one right after the other.
    Controlling herself, she bit the inside of her lip. A hot stream of lust wet the icing glazing the lips of her sex. Through sheer will, she forced herself to lay inert. She’d invested too much time to combust into self-induced orgasm.
    “She’s ready,” Louis informed the top chef, patting Yoyin’s bound wrist.
    With a grand flourish, the chef ripped away the handheld curtain. “Dessert is served.”
    Yoyin lay in the center of a delectable arrangement of chocolate truffles, coconut shavings, cupcakes, and crème pies. The desserts were attractively arranged on and around her beautiful, slender body.
    The guests, now intoxicated, wore lewd expressions. The sight of Yoyin in all her splendor brought out raucous drunken mutterings instead of hushed murmurs of awe and adoration. Though Yoyin couldn’t see them, she sensed their moods and appearances had changed