The tray was cold and hard. I could feel my flesh shrinking from the way it felt under me. A shiver stole over me and I felt my nipples growing hard. Of course, being naked as the day I was born could have something to do with the chill. I managed to recline like I was told, on my side, barely able to wait until the tray warmed at my body heat.
"You could have warmed this up," I muttered.
"Nice," the chef said acting as if he hadn't heard a word I said. He smoothed his wide palm over the curve of my sleek hip and moved my bottom leg just enough so that I had balance while straightening the top one. "You will make a beautiful centerpiece."
"Yeah," I snapped, already hating this like I knew I would. "I just live to be covered with fruit and flowers and ogled by a bunch of horny college guys."
The chef just chuckled, tapping me gently on the jaw with his fist.
For the life of me, I didn't know how I had gotten suckered into doing this, into being the centerpiece at an alumni get together at my brother's alma mater. His fraternity hosted this damn thing once a year and this year I got to be the edible centerpiece.
Well, yeah, I did know how I got here. I mean, I was the one who made the bet on the football game with him when he was home in December. I was so cockily sure my team would win and his Eagles would swan dive that I'd agreed to do what he wanted if I lost.
We didn't just lose, we floundered.
That left Denny rubbing his hands in glee and telling me about this little ritual at the Frat house. I guess those Pi Alpha Omegas had some really kinky ideas about food.
"You just have to lay there, Steph," he'd told me, a grin on his face. "The guy that caters this for us does all the rest. He's fantastic at making living centerpieces."
"You want me to climb up on a tray, have fruit and other food draped over me artistically and lie there while your frat brothers feel me up while they eat?" I had asked, with very little enthusiasm as I recall.
"It won't hurt you," he said, reminding me with a small pat on my ass that I had lost. "Besides, remember the bridal shower you made me go to?
"I knew I'd live to see the day you threw that in my face." But I couldn't help but remember that day. He'd been great, working like a dog to help me set up and then getting one of his hunky friends to come in and strip for the girls. Then he'd played cab service, making sure that everyone got home all right and finally pouring me into bed later that night. I sighed. I owed him.
"I don't have to do nothing else?"
"Nope, just lie there. No one will do anything to you that you don't want to happen."
I took the last part of that conversation as a warning and felt a shiver of dread. Now that the time was here, my stomach was a mass of butterflies and I could feel gooseflesh covering my skin.
"You look a little cold," the chef remarked, his eyes on my breasts.
I couldn't help but glance down, seeing the small brown tips grow tight. "You think?" I know I was being rude but for the life of me, I couldn't find it in me to care. "Can we just get on with this?"
"Yeah, sure," the man said, pulling down on his white jacket.
That's when I saw his name. Pierre Lefute. If he was French, then I was a guy.
"Turn your head," he ordered, and I did as he said, feeling his fingers in my hair. He pulled out the rubber band I'd used to keep my thick, sable colored hair back, slipping it into his pocket before he finger combed my hair. The waves and curls looked startlingly dark against the silver of the tray, and he arranged it the way he wanted it to look, the length just long enough to touch the edges of the tray.
"Okay, now on your side, slip your hand under your cheek. I want you to have a dreamy look, kind of like you just woke up after some very naughty dream."
I moved as he wanted, finally getting into a position that left me comfortable and didn't offend his artistic sensibilities. I had to admit though that I felt very exposed as both my butt and my pussy were out there for anyone to see. It grew worse as I felt his hands on my legs, pushing the straight one back and bending the other one so that it was toward him more. That position raised my hips just a bit more and I knew anyone standing at the bottom of the tray would get a fantastic view.
So absorbed in I in how I must look, I nearly jumped off the tray when he reached over and smoothed his hand over the thick thatch of curls that covered my sex.
"No, no this won't do at all," he said and I had a bad feeling what was going to happen next was not something I was going to enjoy. "Have you ever shaved this?" he asked, his fingers pulling gently at my pubic hair.
"No, and don't think you're going to do it either," I snapped.
"Then it must be trimmed. Don't move," he snapped back at me as he laid a towel next to my hip. I felt his fingers, heard the sound of the scissors and then felt the cool touch a blade slide over my flesh. I didn't dare move. He'd probably cut me on purpose.
He finished quickly and then I felt the touch of his fingers and a cool oily substance that he rubbed into my suddenly nude feeling skin. I didn't dare lift my head to see what he'd done and could only gasp when he spread apart the lips of my pussy and rubbed his fingers against my clit.
"I knew you'd like it," he said, smirking at me. Before I could speak, he leaned down and licked one of my hard nipples before turning away.
I didn't even have the chance to be indignant at his familiarities before two more men were standing around me. They carried huge bowls of fruit and Pierre held a large green wrapped package of flowers.
"Do not move," he ordered.
White daisies were coiled into my hair, strawberries and grapes were scattered around my body. Apples were sliced, formed into shapes and laid against my skin. Peaches and pears were also cut into shapes and glued to my skin using some kind of sugary syrup. Leafy greens were fanned out under the fruit that was on the tray, making me feel like some kind of sacrifice, like a turkey at Thanksgiving.
An apple was cored and sliced, the rings glued to each of my breasts so that my nipples showed through the holes in the centers. Strawberries, matched as perfectly in size as Pierre could make them, were glued over the holes. I felt as if I were wearing some kinky new kind of bikini. But at least I was now covered some what.
More of the syrup was ladled over me, running in trails down my skin, leaving it to shine and making me shiver. One of the other men made curving lines of blueberries over my hip and down my stomach. The other took slices of kiwi and dotted my legs with them. Then he picked up a paintbrush and dipped it into the liquid, running it around my eyes and across my cheeks. A mask was formed, using raspberries and black berries.
I felt the brush on other parts of my body, but what ever they were using to "paint" me was warm and slightly thick. "What's that?" I couldn't help ask.
"Melted chocolate," Pierre answered, showing me the small palate he held that had small tubs of different colored chocolate. He swirled designs around the fruit, drawing an ivy vine that bloomed with chocolate flowers.
It took them less than half an hour to create their "living centerpiece" while I lay there, feeling less than human. Finally, Pierre stepped forward once more. In his hand was a huge white flower. It looked like a daisy but it was the biggest one I'd ever seen.
"The piece de resistance," he exclaimed. I felt his fingers once more, parting the lips of my sex, the thick stem of the flower sliding between. He stepped back to examine his work, coming back to fidget with the flower, which rubbed against my clit each time he moved it.
"Are you done yet?" I growled, hating the fact that this whole thing had gotten me turned on. I still had hours to lie on this tray while the alumni plucked the fruit off of my body. The thought made me even hotter. Was I a closet exhibitionist? Could that be why I was enjoying this so?
"Yes, impatient one. We are finished. Now don't move, you'll spoil the effect." He stepped back and I saw a flash of white light.
"Wait a minute, no one said anything about pictures."
"Don't move!" Pierre snarled, reaching out and putting back the fruit that had fallen off of me. He took another picture and then moved around the long table, getting shots from every angle.
"Voila," he smirked when he was finished. He waved at his assistants and then lifted the tray, moving me to a long cart. "Have fun, girlie."
"Have fun?" I couldn't believe I'd heard him right. I was sticky and covered in fruit and chocolate with a flower stem rubbing against my clit and driving me crazy. This was supposed to be fun? I was going to kill Denny if I ever made it out of here.
Swinging doors parted and I was wheeled into a huge room full of tables. The air conditioning was going full blast and I could feel my nipples tighten even more. I was going to end up with pneumonia, I just knew it. Ending up in the hospital with pneumonia would be a perfect way to get even with Denny. He'd never live down the guilt of being the cause of my death. At least when he helped me, all that happened was someone puked in his car and I even cleaned that up.
Someone touched my hip in one of the few places that wasn't covered with fruit, chocolate or flowers and I glanced up.
"You'll do fine." It was one of Pierre's assistants, and as I blinked up at him, I couldn't help but think how cute he was.
"Thanks, I think," I felt the blush that heated my cheeks and hoped the fruit covered it.
He reached out, straightening one of the lock of my hair that had slipped forward. "I'm Jess," he said.
"Stephanie," I replied. "I'd shake hands but..." One of my hands was painted with chocolate flowers, the other was covered with blueberries and cherries.
"We don't want Pierre on our cases," he said, glancing back over his shoulder. "The man's a lunatic but he does know what he's doing when it comes to this stuff. You look amazing."
"Really?" I asked, hoping I didn't sound as self conscious as I felt.
"Really," he replied. "After this is over, if you want, I can show you the pictures we took."
"I don't know, I kind of thought I'd rather forget this entire experience."
"If you didn't want to do it, then why are you here?" Jess played with some of the pieces of fruit, acting like he was still working as we talked.
"I lost a bet with my brother. He's an alumni here."
"Your brother? He's going to be here?"
Shit, I hadn't thought of that!
"Yeah, I guess that's kind of weird."
"Okay, well, I gotta get back to work," Jess said. He let his thumb run across one of the few spots of clean skin on my body, winking as he turned away.
New tingles of nervous energy fluttered in my belly. Why hadn't I realized that Denny would be here, maybe even one of the guys that would be pulling fruit off of me? God, I was going to kill him.
Minutes passed and I relaxed realizing that there wasn't much I could do besides jump up and run. I couldn't do that to Denny, I knew this dinner meant a lot to him and to do it right would up his prestige with the members. A roar of male laughter caught my attention and I moved the tiniest bit, trying to see what was going on.
I needn't have moved. Men swarmed into the room, tuxedoed and shined, they carried crystal glasses full of golden bubbles. I felt the eyes on me as I kept my position, wishing I could close my eyes and pretend I wasn't here. There were about twenty men and I could see Denny, his eyes riveted upon me as he walked in.
"Steph," he whispered as he walked by. "You look amazing."
"I feel stupid and exposed," I growled at him. "You are so going to owe me for this one, even though I lost the bet."
"Yeah, I'll pay," Denny said, a twinkle in his brown eyes. He reached over, playing with the flower that covered my sex, moving it ever so slightly. His smile grew even bigger as he heard me gasp and I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Watch it buddy, or I'll tell mom," I hissed.
He laughed. "I dare you," he smirked. He bent and before my disbelieving eyes, smelled the flower he was playing with, his head so close to my body I could feel a silky brush as his hair touched me.
Shock had me speechless and he lifted his head and winked before turning to walk away.
"Gentleman, if you'll take your seats, dinner will be served and then we'll get to the highlight of the evening." Chairs were moved, the clink of silverware and china sounding loudly in my ears. Toasts were given even as waiters moved through the room keeping glasses filled, distributing expertly cooked cuisine that smelled amazing.
I felt my stomach contract and the growl and heard a laugh close by.
"I think our centerpiece missed dinner," a deep voice said.
"Well, we can't have her passing out on us due to hunger and missing the main event, can we?" another voice chimed in.
"No, where would our manners be?"
I heard the sound of a chair scraping back and then saw a wide black and white covered chest in front of my eyes. Looking up, I could see a large man, his body muscled not fat, holding a fork in front of me.
"Open up, pretty one," he said, waving a bite of rare, red meat in front of me.
"I-I..." was all I got out before he pushed the food into my mouth.
The taste exploded in my mouth, rare prime rib with a delicate mushroom sauce, and I couldn't help the moan of pleasure that escaped my lips.
I swallowed and another fork was offered, and then another. I had a group of tuxedoed men standing over me, feeding me tidbits of their own dinners. There was just something slightly decadent about being surrounded by these men, most of them well built, handsome and exuding power like it was aftershave.
Then I felt a hand upon my hip, a finger tracing through the chocolate flowers, a yum of delight as I was tasted for the first time. Another hand reached out, plucking a strawberry from the tray, his hand brushing against my ass cheek.
Someone bent over me, his tongue slipping out and trailing up my leg, licking up the sweet, syrupy liquid. Another mouth was at my throat, nibbling on skin left bare of syrup or chocolate, tasting only my own flavor.
"Having fun?" I heard Denny say and I saw him amongst those gathered around me. His eyes were bright, lustful, sending a thrill of naughtiness through me. I wondered if he would join the men who were nibbling at the strawberries covering my nipples. Would he want to do the things to me I could feel being done already?
But he just winked, turning his back and walking off. I followed him with my eyes, seeing him talk to Pierre before someone blocked my view.
The strawberry covering my right nipple was gone, a tongue slowly lapping at the taut peak. Another tongue was at the small of my back, licking up the chocolate that had pooled there. Men vied for position around the small table holding my tray and for a single instant, I wondered if this was what the missionaries had felt like while waiting for the water to boil in the huge pots in all those jungle flicks.
Someone lifted my foot inches from the tray and I felt a warm mouth close over my toes, sucking and then licking at the sensitive pads. I wanted badly to squirm but too many hands were on me now, too many mouths licking or sucking at my skin, teasing my nerve endings. I was on sensory meltdown, my body starting to writhe in pleasure.
I was pushed back on my back, the flower plucked from between my thighs. Someone shouted Denny's name and I saw the man holding the flower toss it to my brother, like it was some kind of trophy. I felt juice from the strawberries that had been crushed when they'd put me on my back and felt it mix with the blueberries that were pushed off of me by eager hands.
My thighs were spread, someone lifting a slice of peach and rubbing it over my thick lower lips. He brought the fruit to his mouth, smiling as he bit into it. Warm wetness surrounded both my nipples, tongues sliding over my stomach while fingers played with my thighs and slid into my pussy.
At first, nerves had me stiff, but soon I was a massive bundle of need, my hips jerking every time someone touched my clit. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the group of men around me, but feeling them all the same. Moans and groans filled the air, and for a moment I was surprised to know that they came from me. I'm not a prude, but I'm usually pretty quiet during sex.
I guess you couldn't call this normal sex though. Mouths moved over me, licking and nibbling, sucking and biting gently at the fruit still on me. Hands plucked and played, one sliding through the wetness between my thighs, a thick finger pushing into my pussy.
One of the men lifted my hand and suddenly it was filled, my fingers wrapped around a thick cock. My eyes flew open and I looked over, seeing the man who had fed me the first bite of food slowly wrapping his hand around mine, then moving it up and down his stiff shaft.
"Is this okay?" he asked and I remembered what my brother had told me. Nothing will happen that I don't want to.
"Y-yes," I whispered, my thumb brushing over the spongy soft head of his cock and finding it already wet.
Hands played with my breasts, squeezing and rubbing, picking up handfuls of the now soft fruit and squeezing the mass of juice over my nipples. I heard a wet sound, turning my head from watching the hand job I was giving to see another man, his hands covered with strawberry pulp, rubbing it over his hard cock.
"Lick it off," he growled, moving closer to my face so that his cock brushed against my lips.