Kitchen Delights
By Matt Nicholson
Kitchen Delights
Published by Darker Pleasures at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 Matt Nicholson. All rights reserved.
Beta read by Susan Foulkes.
Cover image by sergeysukhorukov/123RF Stock Photos
Smashword Edition, License Notes
This work contains graphic language and sexual depictions of sometimes extreme consensual and semi-consensual female bondage and sadomasochism. It is intended for mature audiences only and is not suitable for persons under eighteen years of age. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or redistribute this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Darker Pleasures, webmaster at darkerpleasures.com.
Jeri Eddington stepped through the narrow door of her husband’s study just as his Mont Blanc sliced through the air and slammed tip first into the eggshell-colored stucco wall. She ducked as it ricocheted up and over her head then watched it recoil off the wall to her right, bounce once on the tight, sculptured carpeting and roll beneath the rustic oak bookshelves. It had been the third pencil in two days to meet a similar fate.
Pushing the twinge of irritation at Marc’s juvenile display aside, Jeri forced a supportive smile. Nearing the end of a three-week deadline, and still with little to show for it, he’d been at it all but non-stop for ten hours. He deserved a little compassion at least. She stepped in front of him, took the front tail of her t-shirt in both hands and lifted until he had an unobstructed view of her bobbling, and quite wanting, bare breasts. For the sakes of both their sanities, it was time to give him a bit of distraction.
It had been several days since they’d had sex, and over two weeks since they’d really played hard. And, though they usually gave it some time between the rougher romps, two weeks was knocking at the longest break they’d had since they were married just shy of two years earlier.
It had been a wonderful surprise when she’d found out Marc liked playing as rough as she did—a taste she’d acquired at the hands of a handsome high school teacher just after it became legal for him to show her, and just before he’d been arrested for doing the same to someone slightly less legal. The first time she and Marc had sex, she’d easily teased him into spanking her. On their second date, she’d lured him back to her place where the wooden paddle she’d purchased for the jailbird waited. It had been just as easy to enticed Marc into giving her a bottom blistering that had left her tender for days, and left them both eager for more.
On their next date, she was still too sore to enjoy a more traditional spanking, so he’d roguishly thrown her on her back, happy enough for some vanilla sex. Being young and horny and looking to score, she’d decided to take advantage of the kid in a candy shop look in his eyes as he watched her tits jiggle. Throwing her arms back over her head, she’d shaken them in his face and impishly suggested he spank them instead.
Never having had her boobs paddled, she was surprised at her reaction. She’d just meant it as something playful, a hook for her new lover, but the sight of the wood splaying her soft flesh, the sharper shock of pain coursing through her breasts each time he struck them, and—just as importantly—the look of unbridled enthusiasm on his face, made her come quicker and harder than she had from any ass paddling. He’d taken her orgasm as carte blanche to cut loose. By the end of the night, he’d battered her breasts even worse than her rear, and she’d had several more orgasms to show for it. Bras were off limits for a week, and it went without saying she’d scored—since he asked her to marry her the next day.
Since then, they’d developed something of a “Master/slave” type of relationship when it came to sex. At first, he switched between back and front, giving both sides equal time. Since then, he’d become something of an expert, and now he punished her at a ratio of about three to one boobs to butt. Since everything colored up the same, and her cries and whimpers didn’t change from one side to the other, the draw had to have been the view. The way her titties bounced and the sight of her nipples drawing painfully tight the more he punished them always suckered him into some passionate sucking and biting when it came time for the finale.
But Marc wasn’t the only one that enjoyed it. While Jeri still got off on that occasional bottom beating, she’d grown to prefer the time he spent on her tits, not only because of the way it felt, but because she loved to watch him play.
At the moment, however, he just gave her naked tits an obligatory glance. His weak smile said his heart wasn’t in it—at least not yet. Pulling her shirt the rest of the way off, she looked down at the desk and the scribbled sketches in front of him. She put her palms on the desktop on either side of the sketches, pretending to study them, shifting her weight from one hand to the other just enough so her breasts swayed in front of him. “Still no ideas huh?”
Marc simply shook his head, muttered another curse beneath his breath, and kicked at the box of assorted kitchen gadgets at his feet. “This stuff is as exciting as watching weeds grow. How in heck am I supposed to come up with an ad campaign for a bunch of over-priced kitchen gadgets when people hardly buy the low-priced ones? With all the clients we have, why’d I get stuck with this one?”
Jeri leaned closer, blocking his view with her boobs. Her nipples had hardened noticeably since she’d let them out. She pressed a rigid nub against his lips. His frown faded as he took the offering. At first he just drew the tip of his tongue over the pebbled flesh, but it didn’t take him long to get greedy, closing his teeth roughly into the outer edges of her areola and suckling away as much of his frustration as her puckered flesh could stand.
Having taken her bait, Marc’s hand closed on Jeri’s other breast, his fingers burying deep, squeezing and kneading just hard enough to cause a twinge of dull pain. She concentrated on the sweet and sour sensations of pain and pleasure as she pressed his face deeper and ran her fingers lightly through his hair. After a particularly enthusiastic nip and suck that made her gasp, she tried to peer into the box of “Kitchen Delights Brand” gadgets, a wicked idea forming in the more playful part of her mind. His enthusiasm was getting the better of her, though, and she gave up the search, settling instead on the clothespin he used as a document clip. She smiled mischievously and slowly pulled the moist tip from her husband’s greedy lips.
He grabbed her nipple and tugged her back toward him, trying to hold on. Jeri simply pulled back harder, enjoying the brief pain of his fingernails dragging across the tight wrinkles as her nipple elongated and finally slipped free. Before he could protest, she snatched the clothespin from the small pile of notes. She let the wooden clamp snap closed on her left nipple then bobbled her freshly-decorated breast in front of his face.
“Maybe you just need something to inspire you, hon’.” Jeri slapped his hand playfully when he reached for the bulging nub then pulled the clothespin, stretching her nipple out until the pin snapped free. “Are the juices flowing yet, love”
Once again, Marc reached for her breasts. “Oh, the juices are flowing alright, but not necessarily the right ones.”
“Then...” Her grin got wider as she tossed the clothespin aside and snatched a fancy looking white and grey clamp from inside the box, having spotted it just moments before. “We need to get you focused on the product, don’t we?”
Making sure she had his attention, Jeri let the clip hover around her left nipple for several moments. Once she was certain she had his attention, she let it snap down on the base of her engorged and throbbing nipple
. She cupped the full mound, bobbing it up and down in one hand as if offering it to him. “Now, think ‘gadgets.’”
Marc’s eyes widened as he looked at the clamp and the flattened red nub caught between its jaws. His lips stretched into a wide smile. He slid his hand between hers and her tit, then pumped his fingers watching the crimped nipple shift in the clamp. “I’m not sure that it isn’t more distraction than inspiration, but...”
He stopped in mid-squeeze, his left eyebrow rising. His smile broke into a wide grin. “Hold that pose!”
Her breast bounced from his hand, and he dashed out of the tiny study. He came back seconds later with his Nikon. He adjusted the camera’s settings to macro mode while Jeri looked on in amused confusion. He snapped off three fast shots of the darkening nipple and its gleaming captor. Within moments, he was reviewing the images on the playback screen, his grin even wider than before. “Yes! Yes, that’s it! You’re a genius!”
Jeri laughed and tugged the bag clamp from her throbbing nipple. “I hate to burst your little bubble there, hon’, but I don’t think tits are G-rated.” She worked on massaging the tiny dents away. “Besides, people are supposed to notice the product, not the props.”
Marc ran a short USB cord from inside the camera to his laptop and pulled the pictures up. Jeri looked over his shoulder as he did his Photoshop thing with them. After several minutes, he leaned back in his chair and pointed at the monitor with a satisfied smile. The image hadn’t changed much. Though he’d sharpened the focus around the clamp a bit, centered in the monitor was a professional looking photograph of a high-priced potato chip bag clamp crushing an obviously cold or excited nipple and areola. The catalog number, description, and price, all typed in a shadowed script font across the bottom of the picture, were the only things that suggested the person looking at the image was supposed to ignore the nipple and buy the silly clamp.
“It’s quite nice, for a fancy clamp on a tit. Like I said, there’s the small matter of the nipple, sweetheart. Don’t you see just a couple of problems there? Like...um…most of your female consumers won’t appreciate the imagery, and these products are definitely geared towards women; and there’s the whole ‘R-ratings don’t coincide with kitchen gadgets’ thing going.”
Marc nodded affably, still smiling as he removed a bit of glare and did a color fade that left the clamp and flesh inside it full-color while gradually turning the rest of the image black and white.
Once he was satisfied, he looked up at her. “How many kitchen gadgets on this planet are marketed at women, hon’? All of them? Seems like kind of a glut to me. So, we change the focus. Gear the ads toward men. Put them in men’s magazines and some of the artsy reviews. It’ll be the first campaign of its kind. Heck, the media attention alone will sell product by the truckload.”
Jeri opened her mouth to argue and then closed it again. Instead, she kept rubbing her nipple and glanced at the image again. Having seen the gleam in his eyes when he shot the pictures, she wondered how wise it would be to let some blonde bimbo model give him similar...professional opportunities.
With a slight shrug she shifted her gaze back to Marc and stuck her tits back in his face. “Use me and I’ll do it for free.”
Mark laughed as he dug a modeling contract from his file drawer. “Sweetheart, those tits are definitely worth full price. If this works, no one’s gonna say a word. If it doesn’t, then we’ll sell the shots over the Internet to pay for dinner. Besides...” He snapped at a nipple, clacking his teeth together just in front of it. “...I think I’ll rather enjoy seeing just how much these little darlings can take for the money.”
~~~
Less than twenty-four hours later, Jeri was sitting at a little oaken dinette in a well-lit, executive apartment. She wore an emerald green silk mini-robe and a string of pearls with matching, dangly earrings. Besides make-up, that was it. Marc’s company kept the apartment for visiting executives and high-priced customers. This was the first time it had been used for something quite this…unique. The setting was cozy, with a gas fireplace in one corner, a comfy chair and couch, a well-stocked kitchenette, and a huge Jacuzzi tub.
The warmth from the fireplace made her feel like stretching, which she did languorously while trying to ignore the box of assorted over-priced kitchen gadgets that lay ominously on the floor beside the table. While Marc tested the lighting and adjusted the settings on the camera, he repeated the lecture of the last half hour.
“Just remember, some of these shots might be a little grueling, but a lot more hinges on this shoot than the thousand bucks I’m letting Kitchen Delights pay for your services. Your tits are props and I fully intend on using them to get this account.” He looked all business. “If you have any doubt about whether or not you’re up to it let me know now so I can get a professional.”
His boyish grin took the professional bite from his words, but Jeri knew her husband’s professional perfectionism, combined with his fast-and-rough-with-the-titties fetish, would mean she’d earn every cent of that grand. That being a given, she rolled her nipples between her fingers, making sure he watched them get hard at the same time she watched him get hard. If he had any plans to make her suffer one way, she’d make damned sure he suffered another.
The difference between his suffering and hers, however, was that nothing short of stitches would keep her from enjoying both the money and his attention. He might get to enjoy the view and some playtime, but he was going to have to live with a granite erection and blue balls while he did.
She shrugged out of the little robe and tossed it aside. “Do your worst, sweetheart. Unlike your model bimbos…” she shimmied hard, “…there’s no liability with these tits. Go for it.”
Marc’s smile was evil as he nodded at the black seafood cracker he’d set in front of her. “You got it, love. Let’s see what you can do to your left nipple with that, then.”
Matching his grin evil for evil, Jeri grabbed the chrome-plated cracker and closed it around the pert, red nub. Marc shot once and then frowned slightly. “It doesn’t close tight enough. I need more meat between those jaws.”
Jeri slipped the cracker back a bit and squeezed it into the thicker wrinkles of her areola. Still dissatisfied with the results, he poked and tugged on the puckered flesh, dragging it through the teeth of the cracker until there was more than sufficient “meat” bulging out. He took two more shots and then Jeri took it upon herself to improvise, twisting the nutcracker a full ninety degrees plus, torqueing the tip of her breast a quarter turn. Marc chuckled, snapped a picture and then took a real close up as she twisted the bent nipple inward and tugged it out until a constant, biting pain pulsed through her breast.
“You sure you’re going to be able to take all this?” Even if he feigned concern, the prominent bulge rising in the front of his jeans told the real story.
She broke into a teasing smile as she ran a fingertip down to her clit. “Don’t worry, dear. The girls and I can handle whatever you’ve got in mind.”
For the next two dozen shots, Marc took her at her word for it. A quick couple of shots of a breast stuck through a cast iron napkin holder led into the first of several pain-inducing slicers and a chrome apple corer. At first, he let Jeri do all the prop work while he popped the shutter button. He took another half a dozen shots after she centered her nipple in the corer and pressed. The rosy wrinkles of her areola and white flesh beyond it bulged through the pie-shaped wedges. She could feel the semi-sharp edges start to bite, but it didn’t hurt enough to even warrant much of a pussy rub, though she did it anyway.
Apparently wanting to engage in a bit of sadistic entertainment, he ordered her onto her back. When she did as she’d been told, he yanked her hands parallel to the tabletop up over her head so he’d have unfettered access to her chest. It also ensured she’d have no way of letting her fingers do the walking. After quickly mounting the camera on his tripod, he took several timed shots while he all but imbedded the apple corer into her right tit
. Though it still wasn’t terribly painful, it left prominent pie shaped dents where her flesh squeezed through the chrome wedges and a deeper, round impression circling the thick wrinkles of the areola at her nipple’s base.
His hard-on the only sign he was anything besides professional, Marc moved from the apple corer to a butter slicer, complete with small wires designed to cut a stick of butter into neat, one-quarter-inch pats. As he had with the corer, he let her tease him with a few shots and then he made his mark on her left tit with a more brutal approach. The wires were finer than the edges of the apple corer had been. They stung wonderfully, but didn’t quite cut.
By the time he was ready to have her toy with a nipple with some onyx and silver chopsticks, she was getting antsy for something more hard core. Her nipples might last hours at the rate they were going, but the way her pussy tingled, hours were not something she wanted to spend.
Jeri used the chopsticks to entice her left nipple to greater lengths, giving him just enough time for the necessary shots before she leaned forward against the table and plopped her tit on the white marble base of the cheese slicer that was next on his list. When Marc was set, she took a deep breath and slowly pressed the handle down. The cutter bit into the softer white skin just behind her areola. The wire pressed deeper and deeper and Marc took shot after shot, ignoring—or rather enjoying—the appearance that the delicious red and wrinkled tip was about to be severed from the creamy flesh. Watching the delight in Marc’s eyes served to embolden Jeri further. She pressed harder. The wire bent backward across the flesh, and she could feel the circulation start to leave her nipple, but she had no problem holding it firm. As the tip of her breast darkened, she fingered herself with her free hand until Marc had taken his fill of shots.
Kitchen Delights Page 1
