I had finally done it. After being flung into this fantasy world with nothing but my soba-making skills and a head full of Earth food knowledge, I'd built a thriving cafe empire. Customers poured in daily, gold coins clinked in the till, and my harem of beautiful, talented girls was slowly but surely taking shape. Today, though, I was focused on innovation. The latest experiment: grated mountain yam—tororo.
"Yam-type ingredients incoming! This is just like when McDonald's dropped the fries! Next up, potato salad for sure!"
…It didn't happen.
No fried potatoes. No potato salad. The mysterious isekai system—or whatever governed ingredient drops in this world—had its own stubborn logic. Still, tororo was fantastic. Thick, sticky, slippery, with that unique earthy sweetness and insane viscosity. It clung to everything and made the simplest dishes feel luxurious. I decided to have Layla taste it later; her honest feedback was always gold.
For now, I headed over to Roiza's shop—the cozy little cafe we'd opened in the bustling merchant district. I'd recently hired a new waitress named Yuira, and I wanted to see how she was handling things. What I found blew me away.
She was perfect. Her movements were fluid and precise, like a dancer on stage. She glided between tables, balancing trays with effortless grace, flashing warm smiles that made even the grumpiest nobles soften. And the best part?
"Oh my! Aren't you Yuira, the actress from that play I saw last season?"
"I remember you! You were magnificent as the tragic noblewoman!"
Yuira had been a moderately famous theater actress before joining us. Her reputation among the noble ladies was excellent—she brought class, charm, and that theatrical flair that made every customer feel like they were part of a grand performance. Customer satisfaction skyrocketed the moment she started. Her work ethic was flawless too.
"Yuira, you're a lifesaver. I'm raising your pay starting today," I told her with a grin, pressing five gold coins into her hand—roughly 500,000 yen in Earth terms.
"Oh my! So generous!" Her eyes widened in delighted surprise.
"No, I mean it. You're essential to this place. If another shop tried to poach you, I'd be in serious trouble. Please keep up the amazing work."
She bowed gracefully, that signature drawn-out, sleepy-sounding voice of hers making even simple thanks feel melodic. "Thank you so very much~…"
We spent the next while discussing the shop's layout and small improvements. Yuira had an eye for details I'd never noticed. Her way of thinking was refreshingly different—more intuitive, more focused on the emotional experience of the guests.
"Yes, well~… The placement of the tables does bother me a little~," she said, tilting her head.
I nodded along as she explained. Her reasoning was razor-sharp, even if her voice had that hypnotic, elongated drawl that could lull you into a nap if you weren't careful.
"The customers who come here~… their main purpose is conversation, you see~… The tea, the crepes, the sweets—they're not the stars of the show. They're tools to enhance the experience, to make the chatting more delightful without getting in the way~…"
She was right. The current tables were too large and placed too far apart. In a big space like that, voices had to rise to be heard, leading to fatigue and a noisy atmosphere. Smaller, more intimate arrangements would let people lean in, speak softly, and enjoy each other's company. Of course, throats would still get dry from all that talking, so tea sales would stay strong. But the core question was: what did we really want to offer our guests? Pure luxury and connection, or just food and drink?
Yuira's insights came from her years on stage—watching audiences, reading their reactions, knowing exactly what would make them lean forward in delight or sigh in contentment. It was invaluable.
"You're really something special, Yuira," I said sincerely. "I'm glad we found you."
She smiled modestly. "And as for Roiza~…"
"Yes? What about her?"
"She's so serious and wonderful~… A truly dedicated girl~…"
"That's good to hear."
"But~… the way she keeps groping my breasts is a tiny bit much~…"
"ROIZAAAAA!!!"
A high-pitched "Hiii!!!" echoed from the second floor.
I bolted up the stairs two at a time, fury and amusement mixing in my chest. There she was—my cheeky cat-eared beauty, Roiza, trying to look innocent while dusting shelves.
"I told you so many times!" I growled, pinching her soft cheeks between my fingers and stretching them.
"Nyaa—! What did I dooo?! What?!"
"You keep putting your hands on the staff! Especially when they're not customers!"
"But Yuira isn't a customer~… She's one of us~…"
"That doesn't make it okay!!"
Roiza had apparently been flirting hard with Yuira and, without asking, had gone straight for some enthusiastic breast fondling. At first Yuira hadn't minded—girl-on-girl affection was pretty common and playful in this world—but Roiza's energy had turned intense, her breathing heavy, eyes sparkling with clear excitement. It was getting out of hand.
"You're clearly pent-up," I declared, voice low and commanding. "Frustrated as hell. I'm going to fuck you senseless until that sex drive of yours is completely drained!"
"W-wait please~! I still have prep work~!"
"Don't worry. I already asked Yuira to handle everything except the final touches. You're all mine for punishment time."
This wasn't just sex. This was punishment. A proper, teasing, tororo-flavored lesson.
I dragged her into the private back room, stripped her quickly, and bound her wrists together above her head with soft silk ropes. Her lithe, curvaceous body trembled with anticipation. I grated fresh mountain yam into a thick, sticky tororo paste—cool, viscous, and slightly tingling on the skin. Then I slathered it generously around her dripping pussy, coating her swollen folds, her throbbing clit, and even dipping some inside her tight entrance.
"Itchy! It's so itchy!! Scratch it, please!!" Roiza wailed immediately, hips bucking wildly as the sticky slime began its maddening work. The natural enzymes in the yam created a prickling, crawling sensation that drove her insane with need but refused to let her cum easily.
"Reflect on your behavior for a while," I said sternly, stepping back to watch her squirm and moan, completely helpless.
"Really?! This is too much!! It feels like bugs are crawling all over my pussy!! Aaahhh!! I'm going crazy!!"
She thrashed and cried out for long minutes, tears of overwhelming sensation glistening in her eyes. Her pussy clenched and drooled, mixing with the tororo to create obscene, slippery sounds. Finally, when her voice grew hoarse, I took pity.
"Alright. I'll scratch it for you."
"Th-thank you so mu— ahh?!"
Instead of fingers, I lined up my rock-hard cock and slammed it deep inside her in one brutal thrust. The tororo acted as the perfect, ultra-slick lube—making her walls grip me even tighter while the sticky residue heightened every ridge and vein.
"Higyuuu!! Nooo!! Your cock!! You can't put your cock in right now!! The itch is still—!!"
"Shut up, you little pussy slave. Keep that mouth closed unless it's begging for more."
"It's so mean~♡♡ But it feels so good♡♡♡ Your thick cock is scraping all the itch away♡♡♡ It's mixing the tororo deeper inside meee♡♡♡ So good, so fucking good♡♡♡"
I grabbed her hips and started pounding her mercilessly—long, powerful strokes that made her bound body jolt with every impact. The tororo squelched lewdly around my shaft, coating my balls and dripping down her ass. Her inner walls fluttered wildly, the sticky slime turning every thrust into an explosion of slippery friction.
I pulled out suddenly, leaving her whining and empty.
Then I straddled her torso, pressing my ass down onto her soft belly. My coarse pubic hair—still slick with a mix of her juices and tororo—dragged across her sensitive skin in slow, humiliating strokes.
"…Eh?"
"Here we go."
"Higyuuu!! So mean♡♡♡ Your ass hair is scratching my tummy!! It's so humiliating!! My belly is being treated like a toilet scrubber♡♡♡ Aaahh, it's so degrading but it feels amazing!!"
"Feels good, doesn't it? Being used like my personal scratching post?"
"It feels so good♡♡♡ Being turned into your toilet♡ My head's going all fuzzy♡ My whole body is melting from your cum and ass hair♡♡♡ I'm so happy being your dirty little toy!!"
I shifted back down, slamming my cock back into her soaked pussy with a wet slap. "Time for round two. I'm going to pump you full of fresh cum this time."
"Yes♡♡♡ Roiza is the shop manager's personal cum toilet slave♡♡♡ Please mark my body inside and out♡♡♡ Breed your naughty cat girl!!"
The sex turned savage and relentless. I fucked her in every position I could think of—missionary with her legs pinned back, doggy style while yanking her tail, cowgirl where she bounced desperately on my cock despite bound wrists. Each thrust was deep and punishing, the tororo making her pussy absurdly wet and tight. She came over and over, screaming my name, begging for more even as tears streamed down her face from overwhelming pleasure.
"Harder! Fuck me harder!! Destroy my pussy with that fat cock!!" she howled during one particularly brutal round.
"You love being punished like this, don't you? Say it!"
"I love it!! I love being your itchy, sticky, cum-dump slave!! Pound me until I can't walk!! Fill me up until my belly bulges!!"
I flipped her onto her stomach, ass high in the air, and railed her from behind while reaching around to rub more tororo into her clit. The dual sensation—my cock battering her cervix and the prickling itch being fucked away—sent her into a squirting orgasm that soaked the sheets.
We went at it for what felt like hours. I came five times total: once deep in her womb, once across her tits, once painting her face while she licked greedily, and twice more inside her clenching pussy until thick white seed overflowed and mixed with the tororo in creamy, obscene rivulets.
"Cum♡♡♡ So much cum♡♡♡ I love your cum so much♡♡♡" Roiza moaned deliriously afterward. She scooped the leaking semen from her ruined pussy with her fingers, licked it clean, and shuddered through aftershocks, her body twitching in pure bliss.
By the end, she was a sweaty, sticky, thoroughly satisfied mess—purring contentedly in my arms as I untied her and cleaned her gently with warm towels. The punishment had worked; her usual mischievous energy was replaced by soft, affectionate cuddles.
"You're forgiven… for now," I murmured, kissing her forehead. "But behave with Yuira, okay?"
"Mmm… yes, Master♡ I'll be good… mostly."
Downstairs, the cafe continued running smoothly thanks to Yuira's flawless management. I could already see the future: more innovative dishes, a growing chain of shops, and a beautiful harem of loyal, talented women at my side. This isekai life was turning out better than any soba shop back on Earth could have dreamed.