The kitchen heats up when the guest is on the menu.
I turned up at his house wearing a short blue dress and black heels, knowing what was in store for me. He opened the door and beckoned me in.
“So good of you to come round for dinner,” he said with a mischievous gleam in his eye.
“Thanks for the invitation,” I replied.
He was half naked and I gazed at his sexy chest momentarily.
As soon as I was inside he put his hand over my mouth and dragged me into the kitchen. It was blazing hot. He had the cooker and the oven on. I began to sweat almost instantly. He lifted me onto the kitchen table and pulled my dress off, undid my bra expertly and yanked down my knickers, then took off my heels and threw them on the floor.
“I know you love to make an effort, pet, but it’s really not necessary tonight. Since I can dress you even better.” He cackled wickedly but amiably. I smiled at him.
“Hands and knees.” He ordered.
I knelt on the table. He was a deft hand at Japanese rope bondage and soon I was tied up, hands together, feet together, rope round my body, curving up my breasts and round my stomach. I felt vulnerable and exposed. I was dripping with sweat from the heat of the kitchen. He had started to sweat too, beads rolling down his face and chest. I shuddered inside at the sexiness of his body and the thought of what he was going to do to me.
“Now what would you like for starters, my love?”
“Whatever you want,” I answered in a submissive tone, knowing full well that any response would be moot. He shoved an apple in my mouth and I bit down on it to hold it in place. He grabbed my hair and kissed me on the cheek. My pussy began to drip onto the table. He saw it and laughed.
“Nice and moist, that’s how I like you,” he said. His cruel voice echoed in my mind and my stomach flipped. He picked up a basting brush and began to spread olive oil all over my hot naked body. It was nice and slippery. He brushed my thighs and my breasts and my back and my bum. He even spread some on my face. Soon I was covered in the stuff. Oiled and lubricated. What next? I wondered. It was honey. He repeated the brushing of my body, only now I felt sticky. It was lovely and erotic yet disgusting at the same time.
Chef’s Special Recipe
I took some salt and pepper and ground it all over her. It stuck to her. She looked like a feast and she smelled flavoured and sweet. Garnished and good enough to eat.
“Look at me,” I said, and she turned her head, unable to speak with the apple in her mouth. I gazed on her and felt an instant sense of sadistic satisfaction. I was going to make a meal of her. I licked her and sucked her and bit her all over, from her toes to her neck. I played with her flesh between my teeth. She squirmed. In a good way.
“I want to devour you,” I told her, as I felt her appetising body. She oozed with sexual tension. She wanted to be taken and she wanted to orgasm. But first I was going to take things a little further.
I chopped some onions, placed them in a bowl and held them under her face. Soon her eyes were streaming with tears. I gained a huge amount of enjoyment from watching, then kindly took the bowl away after a while. I took out some eggs from the fridge and picked up three. I juggled them in my hands, watching her eyes in anticipation. She made a kind of squinting expression, the kind when you know what’s coming, you can’t stop it and you kind of want it, but you also kind of don’t. I stopped juggling and threw one at her. Hard. Of course you have to throw eggs hard for them to break. It cracked on her side and dripped down one of her hanging breasts.
She looked slightly outraged but aroused, though it was hard to tell since the apple in her mouth rendered her unable to make extensive facial expressions. I threw the second at her bum and the yolk and white seeped down the crack in her buttocks and down to her pussy and collected on the table with her own juices. I threw the last at her head and it dripped down her hair and onto the side of her face. She looked awesome, soaked in oil and honey and eggs with eggshells and salt and pepper stuck to her. I took a photo.
I decided to taunt her even more.
“Do you feel ashamed?”
Dish Of The Day
I nodded.
“And do you like being ashamed?” he asked
I nodded once more.
“Do like you like being tied up, oiled up and sticky with egg on your face?”
I paused and then reluctantly nodded. He smiled to himself with arrogance. I was turned on by all this unpleasant fun, that was for sure, but I was also extremely uncomfortable. I hurt all over. My teeth hurt from biting into the apple. My knees ached from kneeling on the table. The ropes burned into my skin and the stuffy heat of the kitchen was almost suffocating. I felt overwhelmed with smell, taste, touch, sight and sound. The sight being my delicious boyfriend enjoying his position of power and the sound being his spine-chilling, pussy-wetting, evil laugh. I’d never been egged before and I could now see why it was used as an act of humiliation. I felt thoroughly degraded.
He poked me all over with a long metal meat fork and I flinched. He picked up a cucumber, wrapped it in a condom and plunged it into me. If I could’ve gasped, I would have done. It felt hard and full and I longed for enough stimulation to come hard on his kitchen table, covered in food and sweat. He thrust it in a few times, knowing how frustrated I would be getting. He was going to drag out this tease for as long as he could, I knew it.
He took it out and it didn’t go back in. Maybe he was going to fuck me now.
Secret Ingredient
She was waiting for me to put my cock in her. She was going to have to wait a bit longer. First I was going to cool her down a bit. I was looking forward to the twisted juxtaposition of baking hot and freezing cold she was about experience. This was going to be a bit cruel. Well, very cruel. I had made an ice lolly in one of those plastic containers. It was only made out of water so I could put it inside her without any health risk. I’d thought this all out, you see. I’m a thoughtful guy, what can I say?
I opened the fridge and I caught sight of the beautiful look of fear and excitement in her big brown eyes when she saw what I was holding. I sucked the lolly a bit so the ice wouldn’t stick inside her and when it was smooth enough I held onto her sticky arse and pushed it into her while she strained her neck to look me straight in the eyes. She closed them as it went in and breathed in deeply. Through her nose, obviously. She was concentrating on resisting the pain and I loved it. Ice torture. Irreplaceable.
Allow To Cool
I wanted to cry. The ice was so cold it burned. It felt like my c**t was being stabbed with a sharp knife. I’d had ice cubes in me before, but it was only when they were on the outside or going in that they hurt; once they were inside the pain was gone. The ice lolly, however, stuck out, which meant the entrance to my pussy had no reprieve from the pain. The whole of my pussy ached and I wanted to scream but knew I would drop the apple and couldn’t imagine what he would do if that happened. I stopped looking at him and concentrated on not thinking about the pain if that was possible. I soon found out it wasn’t. He pushed it in and out of me until finally he took it out and said, “Now for the main course.”
I heard the zip of his jeans and my pussy swelled with expectation. The next thing I felt was his big hard cock sliding into me and I think my heart stopped momentarily from the pleasure. He grabbed hold of my slimy body and rammed me back onto his cock. My grip on the apple was waning and I let it fall out of my mouth, onto the table, and roll onto the floor. He stopped.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Sorry? You will be.”
He reached onto the kitchen counter and picked up a jar of mustard. I didn’t say anything. There was no use protesting. He scooped up some of the mustard with his fingers and carried on fucking me.
“You’ll love this,” he said. “Well that’s a lie, you’ll absolutely hate it.”
I was morbidly curious about where he was going to put it but I knew that all morbid curiosity would go out the kitchen window, were it open, when he actually did it. He pulled his cock out and slimed the mustard on my clit. I didn’t feel anything straight away and thought it wasn’t so bad. All of a sudden it burned and stung and I started making whimpering noises. It was unbearable. It was worse than the ice lolly. At least it felt like it was. Humans have a funny way of forgetting how bad something actually is, I’ve found. Or maybe that’s just me.
“Wash it off!” I cried. Several times, I think.
He laughed again, that evil laugh, and pulled my hair. How dare he?
He leaned round and cupped some water in his hand from the tap. He rubbed my clit with it and I felt relieved. Until I realised it hadn’t all washed off.
“More. I can still feel it, “ I said.
He got some more water and pulled my hood back and washed off all the mustard. I was calm once more. The feeling of pain and grossness from the ropes and the food returned. Much better, I thought.
I loved him and hated him for doing all this and I also felt extremely turned on. He was fucking me hungrily. Maybe next time I could dress up like Little Red Riding Hood and he could pretend to be the wolf… I could bring some jam and butter in my basket and he could lift up my dress and rub it all over me. Then make me suck it off his fingers. Mmm…
The Final Touch
That had been a nasty trick to play, I had to admit. But it had been so much fun seeing her writhe and scream like that. Plus I couldn’t let her drop the apple and get away with it. I decided to treat her. I rubbed some more oil on my hands and started playing with her clit while I carried on fucking her depraved brains out. She moaned.
I used one hand to masturbate her and the other to grab her breasts and squeeze her amazing nipples. My hands were all oily and sticky too, but I didn’t care. I closed my eyes and savoured the tightness on my cock, the feel of her clit on my fingers, the aroma of the room and the scent of my girlfriend.
The Proof Of The Pudding
He was fucking me from behind, playing with my breasts and stroking my now mustard-free clit and I could feel my orgasm was reaching boiling point. He started licking my back and I made noises of appreciation. I was a mess. I was a sticky, oily, sweaty, teary-eyed, dripping mess. And I loved it. He fucked harder and he massaged my clit in circular motions. He grabbed my tits and kissed and nibbled my back. My chef was cooking up a storm. He was ravishing me. I was being ravished and at this thought I came screaming and breathing hard. It lasted for ages and just as mine was finishing, I felt his orgasm inside me, deep and intense.
He took his cock out of me and his come dripped out of me onto the table. For a while he stood there admiring me and his new-found culinary skills. He washed his hands.
“Now, what about dessert?” he pondered out loud.
I shrugged my shoulders. I wasn’t going to play his little game.
“Have you ever had chilli sauce in your arsehole?” he asked…
