What follows is my first foray into erotic fiction – as part of Exhibit A’s GBBO themed writing contest, I present “Drizzle”…
She placed the cuffs around my wrists in that delicately demonic way only She can. Pulling the leather strap, I see the sinews in Her forearm straining to pull it tight. The cuffs fastened, She pushes me back against the wall and raises my arms above my head. There’s a loud click as She deftly attaches the cuffs to the ring in the wall with a carabiner.
She walks away, and I am left to contemplate how this predicament came to pass.
Earlier I had awoken from a deep sleep to bright sunshine pouring through a previously unseen gap in the curtains. She lay next to me in bed, still snoozing, her chest slowly rising and falling in time with her relaxed breathing. I sat up, and turned to sit on the edge of the bed. My bare feet touched something that wasn’t the usual carpet. I looked down and saw an envelope. It had Her writing on it.
It was the third Sunday of the month. That meant only one thing, cake day. Only with Her, nothing was ever that straight forward.
I bent down and picked up the envelope. Making my way downstairs, I opened it. Inside was a note, also in Her handwriting.
I weighed out the ingredients into small glass bowls, tearing up Her note to use as labels as I did. Trying to earn extra brownie points, I also prepared Her apron, the hand mixer, a bowl, a couple of spoons and a cake tin. By the time I had finished, I could hear Her moving about in the room above.
A few minutes later She came downstairs, into the kitchen, She had a black linen drawstring bag in Her hand. The black linen drawstring bag we keep with our bondage kit. She placed it down on the table.
As I only had on boxers, it didn’t take long to fulfil Her instruction.
Reaching into the linen bag She pulls out some leather cuffs.
And here I am, chained to the wall watching as She walks across the kitchen. She surveys all that I have prepared and makes Her way to the closet. Pausing to turn on the oven, She returns with a spreader bar and a bowl, She kneels beside me and attaches it to my ankles. The bowl she places between my legs.
I am already excited at the prospect of what lies ahead, a fact She has noticed; “It’s just a bit bold and fat and big…” She says, flicking my penis.
She returns to the island counter, and looking at me with Her bright blue eyes, begins to throw all the ingredients into the bowl. Then She stops. She folds down Her apron so it’s only around Her waist, and to my utter disbelief removes her top.
I can’t help but stare at Her breasts, Her nipples pointing directly at me. She leans over and grabs a big wooden spoon and starts to mix. Her boobs pendulum, swaying in time with Her mixing. I am mesmerised, my cock, having a mind of its own is pointing back Her, glistening with the juices of my excitement. She looks at me and seductively mutters “It’s all in the wrist action”. With this my juices multiply and I start to ooze precum.
This seems to give Her added impetus, and she starts beating with even more fervour. Her breasts swaying, every movement of Her arm piquing the interest of Her nipples further. My cock continues to enjoy the show, my juices forming a small puddle in the bowl on the floor. She looks up from her mixing “We’re getting good length, aren’t we.”
Eventually She stops mixing, reaches into the cupboard and pours the mixture into several ramekins. Moving away from the counter towards the oven, I see Her in full, and now realise she is somehow wearing just a thong behind the apron. I watch, captivated by Her bottom, as she bends over and puts the ramekins into the oven. The curves of Her calf muscles just touching the almost heart shape of Her bottom, framed by the black lines of the thong. My whole body strains at the sight. My wrists pull at the cuffs, my ankles at the spreader bar, and my cock strains to get closer to Her. More juices pool in the bowl.
My wish is soon granted, as She walks over to me. Her apron covering Her modesty, Her nipples still pointing at me, accusingly. She grabs my hardness. “I knew it would be easier by machine. But I just like to feel it” She purrs into my ear.
I can hardly contain myself, having watched Her boobs, and now Her butt for the last 15 minutes, I want nothing more than for Her to squeeze all those juices out of me. But, as before, nothing is ever that straight forward.
She gives my cock a firm squeeze, turns and marches to the kitchen drawers, returning momentarily.
She takes my cock, lifts it up to access my balls. Firmly holding my cock in Her left hand, She produces a fork in Her right. She prods my thighs with the fork, I jolt and the carabiner clinks against the hook, She prods again, in my spread-eagled state, I am powerless to move away. The prods continue up my thighs, until my balls become Her victim. Some prods are gentle, some of them have got a good forking. This continues until my balls and thighs are positively buzzing and radiating heat from all the prodding.
The throbbing sensation wanes slightly as She ceases and walks over to the fridge, returning this time with a couple of ice cubes. Upon Her return, She again seizes my erect manhood, squeezing and stroking, more and more of my juices are gathering in the bowl at my feet. Pulling my foreskin back She rubs the ice on my glans. I let out a wail, and almost hit the ceiling such is the shock of the cold.
“I’m going to try the old wiggling between two dangling things technique” She mutters as the melting ice runs downs the length of my cock. Her hand follows, gripping both the ice and my penis, She finds her way to my balls, and true to Her word, wiggles the ice between. My balls instantly jump upwards, shying away from the cold. She continues backwards, towards my bum, forcing my hips to buck involuntarily as the cold touches the delicate skin.
“Your crack is nice and moist” She grins.
The bowl now contains quite a pool – I’m quite surprised at how much goo I produced, although it is now being watered down by the melting ice.
The timer goes on the oven, and the ice fun is over.
She washes her hands and then retrieves the ramekins from the oven, and sets them to cool. Mixing up the lemon drizzle sauce whilst She does. I start to salivate in addition to the moist perkiness still present in the previously forked and iced penis area. Again, I watch as Her delicious breasts sway.
Drizzle made, She heads to the drawer and fetches the palette knife. To my surprise, She doesn’t head my way, but rather straight back to the ramekins. Using the knife, She turns out the yummy looking cakes.
Sticking Her finger into the drizzle, She seductively licks it clean. The steady drizzle of man juices into the bowl on the floor turns into a slow stream.
She carefully drizzles the lemon sauce over the cakes. Ooooh they look delicious.
When finished, there is one with no sauce on; maybe I weighed out the ingredients wrongly.
She walks purposefully towards me, grabs the bowl from between my legs and returns to the counter. Slowly, deliberately, She pours the contents of the bowl over the last remaining cake. She walks back over to me, and sets this cake on the floor where the bowl had been.
She takes my hard cock in Her hands, and frantically masturbates it; rubbing it fast, squeezing hard, I feel the warmth radiate through my torso. My legs stiffen, my bum tightens, and I feel the orgasm edging its way ever closer. She uses both hands – one to stroke, one to caress the glans. Its coming, I feel the pleasure rise, a crescendo building.
Just as it arrives She lets go and grabs the cake, there’s a small spurt of cum that flies the across the kitchen, the rest drizzles out as the lack of stimulation causes the orgasm to retreat. She carefully positions the cake so that my cum drizzles on to it.
Satisfied with Her work, She stands up, breaks the cake into two and shoves one half of the cum soaked sponge into my mouth.
Just a typical third Sunday with Mistress Berry.