"Really now, we've been waiting like fucking forever for the door to open… you know, for dinner! Man, taicho really worked our ass off today, and I thought some good food – oh! Finally dinner served – what the – fifth seat… Ayasegawa-san?"

Two hours prior to the rice-papered door slide open into a VIP dining room, Ayasegawa Yumichika had visited a month-old friend who owned a restaurant in one corner of Seireitei. The place was famous for delectable main courses and exceptional dessert. Plus, people said the dining experience was seriously one of a kind. But exactly how delicious the food was Yumichika had only heard by word of mouth, so tonight he had purposely came out of work early to get a room for himself. Ikkaku would have joined him if only he had not agreed to eat out with other members of the Eleventh Division.

"Come on; let me sample your famous cooking!" Yumichika had begged when his friend refused flat out to let him have a room.

"Nope – we only take bookings in groups. You, Ayasegawa, come alone, so you should remove yourself from my premise. I'm trying to work here!"

"I've come all the way early from work for dinner and you're kicking me out without even a bite? That's awfully cordial of you," he sulked some more, trying to play the guilty game. A spoonful of prawn salad could do…

"Well, guess what," Yumichika huffed. "I'm not leaving until you allow me to dine in here, with a group or not."

And that was that. The last thing he knew was his friend sighing and muttering, "Okay, but I bet you won't be happy with the arrangement once you come to" before a heavy blow landed at the nape of his neck, shutting lights off from his vision.

"Yumi… chika… is that you?"

He groaned, feeling quite sore in almost every bone in his body. He tried to rub the tender spot in his neck – where the idiot struck him – and panicked when he found out both arms were tied behind his back. His eyes snapped open but all he saw was black; he could not be blind… but judging by the feel of fabric rubbing around his cheek, he had indeed been blindfolded. His legs too were not budging – ropes had secured his lower limbs where they were folded at the knees like a chicken about to be roasted in the oven. He felt so vulnerable – before he realised he was naked. He cried out, wanted to get help – anybody – but even that chance too was robbed for something large was wedged mercilessly in his mouth, preventing him from uttering a single word.

Yumichika had never felt so blind, mute and helpless.

"Whoa… what the… now what are we supposed to do?"

There were people around him, quite a few judging by the breathing and amount of shuffling done. They were restless but definitely nowhere near what he was feeling, Yumichika thought savagely. He twitched some more in his restrains.

"I… don't know…"

Something snapped in his mind. He knew that voice. He knew it so damn well.

"Madarame-san, it's impossible. I'll get the bill –"

He knew it. He bloody knew it!

"I'm sorry, gentlemen. That cannot be done. You haven't even touched your meal."

"Yeah well, the problem is, this 'meal' is our fifth-seat Ayasegawa-san. Like hell we're going to touch him!"

Stop it, fools! Exposing his true identity to the waiter… what would he do now? His reputation – people would be thinking him as a pervert, lying naked among some men in a dodgy restaurant…

"I neither know this man nor care about it, but the restaurant policy forbids our customers from leaving the room with the meal untouched. You will just have to eat your way through. My apologies. Have a good evening, then."

With that, the door slid close again and the small crowd around him fell into a stupor. Yumichika was getting slightly agitated now. Why were they not untying him? It was not really comfortable, this position… his muscles were getting all stiff. And what the hell was Ikkaku thinking, letting Yumichika lie here nude in front of their underlings?

Again, all that came out of his mouth were unintelligible protests.

"Then, I guess we have no choice. Uh, Yumichika…"

Oh hell, no. No! Yumichika thrashed around – not that it helped much – and the table shuddered the slightest bit under his weight. He sensed the people around him falter back at his reaction.

"Yumichika… come on, relax – they won't let us out if, you know…"

Bullshit! Were they not members of the elite Gotei 13? Could they not just fight their way out? What the hell were they so docile for at such a time? Where would their captain, the fearsome Zaraki Kenpachi be at this moment? He should drill some sense into his men…

He heard Ikkaku sigh. Not a good sign.

"Okay, I'm sorry if you don't want to cooperate, but this is our final decision."

Yumichika bit into whatever that was in his mouth. Was that decision not made by one man alone?

He heard Ikkaku pick up his chopsticks and something cold left the warm comfort of his lower abdomen. Soon, the rest followed suit, picking up their chopsticks and more cold stuff left Yumichika's body. Only then he fully comprehended the dire circumstances he was in.

Ikkaku's voice had been coming from quite a distant, so he imagined his friend to be at the farthest point from his ears – at his foot (or more like his crotch since his legs were folded up). His back was set against something cold, so he supposed he was in a pewter tray or dish. He only drew that conclusion because he knew his comrades were eating food placed on his body, over his front. So what, the restaurant served food on people – that accounts for the "one of a kind dining experience"… but so far, they hadbeen courteous. One particular pair of chopsticks were shaking – Yumichika felt the tips dig into his flesh and the owner muttered a hurried "Sorry" – and he prayed they eat whatever that was on top of him in lightning speed and they could all get their asses out of here. Good night.


Someone had tried to dip his morsel into the crook of his shoulder blade. The chopsticks retreated with a quiet, "My apologies! But that's where the wasabi is…"

So there were sauces splattered over his torso?

Soon, more cold food dug into his flesh. It was not entirely comfortable, but what was worse was the sauces seemed to be placed around spots even Yumichika did not know were his sensitive regions. At the base of his neck, the base of his ribs, his navel, along his sides… he shuddered visibly when a piece of salmon (probably) rubbed enticingly around his left nipple.

"Oh, sorry," said someone, not sounding sorry at all.

Then his nipple was plucked by the tip of wooden chopsticks. Yumichika winced, and the chopstick abused his other nipple, twiddling the nub in between the slender sticks.

"Nn… gh!"


The table beneath his body rambled when Ikkaku's fist slammed hard against it just as his voice boomed in the room. Someone to Yumichika's right mumbled, "My hand slipped, my apologies Ikkaku-san."

Hands slipped my foot, Yumichika snarled in his mind. He was breathing heavily, obviously unsettled by the sudden turn of event. His body was not feeling as cold as before – maybe a large portion of the food had been gone – and was that just not great? Dinner was almost done.

"Uh… Ikkaku-san…"

"What?" he heard Ikkaku snapped.

"The chocolate… is melt – melting…"


It seemed that Ikkaku had no idea what was being said to him – Yumichika either, his body was too numb to feel anything dripping off wherever – but apparently, Ikkaku had caught up and said distractedly, "Whatever, let it –"

He paused, seemingly deep in his own thoughts. Then he ordered one of his men to pass the bucket of ice over and Yumichika found himself stirring dejectedly in his bonds again.

He swore against the bit in his mouth when the ice cube – it had got to be – made first contact with his scrotum. He had not anticipated it – it just shook him that the cruelly cold piece then slid upwards along his hardening shaft. What the hell… none of this made sense anymore. Yumichika's mouthful of complaints sounded more like moaning when he was gagged like that, and when the ice was swirled playfully at the tip of his member, Yumichika was not so sure anymore. Not sure whether he was freaking pissed over Ikkaku's attempt to humiliate him in front on their subordinates or turned on by being treated like an object for sexual toying. Either way, as Yumichika's head slipped sideways to escape the heating gaze of the people around him, Ikkaku finally said, "That does the trick. Chocolate ain't melting anymore, does it?"

Wherever the ice touched him now felt quite painful, like lashes of fire whip being set on it. Nobody was picking food from his body. All Yumichika wanted was to go home.

"I'll… uh, get the bill now."

Great… great… what he had been waiting for. His uneven breaths were purged rapidly – his tightly screwed eyes relaxed beneath the blindfold.

The rice-papered door slid open again to admit the waiter who had just now served the batch. He gave a sweeping look over Yumichika's flushed, panting body before saying quietly, "Now, you haven't cleaned your plate."

A couple of men stood up and said heatedly, "What the fuck do you mean? There's nothing on him anymore!"

The waiter's dismal chuckle was heard and Yumichika shivered. The chill was unnerving.

"Dessert, gentlemen. You skipped dessert, that's not correct."

"Well, your chef must've forgotten to serve dessert, 'cause we don't see anything that resembles 'dessert' in this room!"

The waiter exhaled slowly. "His body," and by that he obviously meant Yumichika's bound and gagged physique, "is coated with sugary confections. Our chef doesn't like to use artificial colouring in his dishes so it's only natural you can't see what you're supposed to eat, like in this case."

The brief silence was perforated when one of the men said, "Whatever. We choose not to have dessert. Give us the bill and –"

"That cannot be arranged as well. My apologies gentlemen, but please, enjoy your dessert."

The door closed again. The men swore. Yumichika ground his teeth. Ikkaku's presence was disturbingly vague.

When was this going to end?

"Madarame… san?"

People were gathering around him once more… he could feel the stirring… and he heard a whisper so soft it was almost imperceptible: I'm sorry, Yumichika.

Then someone's hot mouth descended on his rigid cock. Yumichika cried, his body arched at the sensation when numerous tongues lapped at his body, licking every bit of skin they could reach. His nipples were teased and twirled around in equally warm caverns, his navel being delved into… and every part of him was violated by those deft, thick muscles. Ticklish yet sensuous, ghastly yet pleasurable… contrasting emotions rocked his shaking body and all coherent thoughts about Ikkaku and his men were washed away from him mind. All he was conscious off was the surmounting feeling of raw desire to have more… and more… and the mouth around his cock was indeed giving him all. It licked around the girth, swallowing the melting chocolate that was coating the shaft, and the fingers were giving his balls firm squeezes. Yumichika felt the room swelter with heavy breathing – then it meant nothing because his insides just curled and lurched and his back arched with such intensity – the mouths on his body backed away and once the wave subsided, Yumichika lay lightly in the dish, his heart thumping in his ears.

He truly felt numb, in and out.

When his men finally had half the wit to cut the ropes off with their zanpakuto, Yumichika let his limbs fall around him. He cared not about grace given his circumstances. His muscles ached, his head pounding… nobody dared to approach him even in his nakedness and defenselessness… it was not like he had a murderous scowl on his visage – no, nothing of that sort. Half-lidded, exhausted… these men could have just taken him and had their way with him. Maybe because he was their fifth-seat officer after all; that had got to demand some authority of some sort.

He rolled to his side and off the table, still crouching all on four on the tatami mat considering his weak limbs were not able to support his weight. How would he walk back home like this… but he would rather slit his throat open with Fuji Kujaku than to ask one of the guys for a lift.

Then Ikkaku knelt beside him. He could sense radiating compassion, warmth. Ikkaku was surveying him with concerned eyes, looking for injuries or signs of discomfort. He removed his shirt and draped it over Yumichika's bare body. Ikkaku's strong arms around his shoulders, Ikkaku's fingers trying to reach for his cheeks –

Yumichika swatted at them, harshly, coldly. And with a defiant glower so steely and livid, he hissed, "Touch me, and I'll kill you."