Table of Contents
Legal Page
Title Page
Book Description
Dedication
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
New Excerpt
About the Author
Publisher Page
A Totally Bound Publication
Subterfudge
ISBN # 9781781848357
©Copyright Normandie Alleman
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright November 2013
Edited by Rebecca Douglas
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2013 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Sizzling and a Sexometer of 2.
This story contains 49 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 7 pages.
SUBTERFUDGE
Normandie Alleman
When Ashley’s Master requests she cook for him, he finds out the lengths a truly naughty girl will go to for love in the kitchen.
When Roger asks his live-in sub Ashley to learn to cook she eagerly agrees, assuming it’s going to be a breeze. After all, she’s a bright, accomplished woman with a successful career—how hard can it be to prepare some food?
Once she’s up to her ears in cocoa and flour, Ashley realises cooking is more complicated than it looks. Finding ways to shortcut the process, Ashley dupes Roger into believing she’s a diva in the kitchen. But when he finds out she’s not the chef of his dreams, will he serve up a punishment fit for a saucy sub or will their relationship go up in flames?
Dedication
To My Loving Husband.
With special thanks to my Father—who really knows how to mess up a pie.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Pinterest: Cold Brew Labs
Armani: Giorgio Armani S.p.A
Cristal: Cristal, Louis Roederer
Eeyore: Winnie-the-Pooh, A.A. Milne
Rocky Horror Picture Show: The Rocky Horror Show
Chapter One
Ashley snuggled down under the lofty comforter. Sunlight floated in lazily through the bedroom window, the yellow light blending with the cream-coloured walls of the old Victorian tenement. Lounging around on Sunday mornings, curled up in her Egyptian cotton bed sheets, was when she felt the most cosy and secure.
She and Roger shared the newspaper—he read the business and sports pages, while she perused the comics and the lifestyle section.
Ashley sipped her coffee daintily. She pretended to be reading an article about the latest colour trends, but took a sly peek over the top of the paper to observe the man she loved. He sat next to her, reading. That broad, muscular chest, those deep blue eyes…he was everything she could want in a man. Watching him caused her heart to skip a beat.
But lately, Roger had been acting a bit off. What is with him? He seems restless. Wonder what it is…
Roger’s coffee mug made a clinking noise when he set it on the bedside table. “Darling,” Roger said, looking up from his newspaper, “I’d like you to learn to cook.”
“Cook? Me?” She arched an eyebrow in his general direction without completely turning her head.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Roger give her that benevolent, indulgent grin she loved so much. The one that told her he adored her. She softened.
“Yes, you know? Cook. Prepare food,” he teased, running his hand through her hair, mussing it up. He winked at her. It made her insides go all mushy, and she felt a tingle of delight between her legs.
Ashley hesitated, but only for a moment. “All right.” She had never tried cooking before. This was unchartered territory for her. She hated to admit it, but she felt uncomfortable with something so foreign to her. What if she was a flop?
But a sub’s job was to make her Master happy. To comply with his requests, to serve him. So she agreed. Anyway, lots of women do it. How complicated can it be?
In her everyday life, Ashley was a professional equipped with all the assertiveness that required. She could stand toe to toe with anyone in business, or in any sort of dealings for that matter.
But at home, behind closed doors, Ashley had no greater desire than to please her man. In her relationship, she had chosen to be submissive to him. She needed a take-charge man in the bedroom, one who could dominate her and make all her fantasies come true.
Two years ago, some friends had introduced her to Roger. At first Ashley had thought he might be too buttoned up for her. The serious investment banker had come across as too staid for her free-spirited, artistic nature. But behind closed doors, Roger surprised her. He wasn’t a bit boring, and they’d turned out to be a great match.
He became her Dominant in a short time. He gave his heart to her completely, and he cherished her. In return, she gave him the gift of her submission. Ashley prided herself on how she took care of Roger and met his needs. She had never trusted anyone the way she trusted Roger. He was a better man than she had ever dreamt she could have, and she was thankful for him every day.
They’d moved in together a year ago, settling into a quaint, if unconventional domesticated existence. With some whips and handcuffs thrown in for good measure.
Their life together was so…complete. Why bring this up now? It caught her off guard. I thought he was happy with the take-out and frozen dinners.
“How do I learn?” She furrowed her brow. “To cook, I mean.”
Roger handed her an ad he’d torn out of the newspaper. ‘Culinary Class’ was printed at the top in large letters. There were some dates, times and a phone number along the bottom.
“I’ll call and sign you up. Looks like it starts tomorrow. I’ll see if I can secure you a spot.”
Ashley’s heart sank. Tomorrow? She had a full day planned with things she needed to do Monday. She worked for herself, basically, as a freelance graphic design artist. Sure, her schedule was flexible, but if she had to go to a cooking class the next day, she’d have to put off her most high-maintenance client.
She realised she was frowning and forced herself to brighten. “I’ll call, don’t you worry about it,” she said. She took the scrap of paper. I’ll handle the client, do all that other stuff on Tuesday. After I learn to cook.
“That’s my good girl.” He reached over and stroked her face.
He kissed her and the rest of the world melted away. The scent of his aftershave pierced her senses and she was rocked with an ardent desire to have him inside her.
> “It would mean so much to me for you to make meals for us. It’s a great way for a woman to show her man she loves him.” His tone was low, sexy.
“They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” She giggled.
“There are other ways.” He laughed and pressed her hand to his erection.
She chortled and squeezed his appendage gently.
Roger slowly peeled back the designer camisole and tap pants she slept in, kissing every inch of her bare skin as it was revealed. She sighed—his lips were magic, invigorating her senses.
“Right now I want to show you how much I care for you,” he told her.
Ashley was naked now except for her blue silk and white lace panties. Roger set the newspaper aside and laid her flat across their bed.
After a moment of rifling through her bureau, he drew out some of her softest silk scarves. The divine feeling of the sumptuous fabrics running over her body invigorated her skin. Gliding the silky-smooth material over her supple curves, he teased her to arousal. Then, he bound her wrists and ankles to the four posts of the bed. Her taut limbs stretched and exposed her, confining her movement.
“What are you going to do to me?” she panted.
“You should know better than to ask questions, my dear. I like to keep you guessing.” His eyes glistened in the sunlight. “I know what you need. Don’t I?”
“Y-y-yes, Sir.” Ashley had known he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of an answer. But she couldn’t help but ask. When he tied her up, her heart got all poundy, she got anxious.
What would happen next? She had no control over his actions, and she couldn’t move her own body. It was as maddening as it was arousing.
After excusing himself for a minute, he returned with an implement from the kitchen.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked.
“A spatula?” She wriggled in her restraints.
“That’s right.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “Something you should become familiar with now that you will be spending more time in the kitchen.”
She closed her eyes. It was easier that way.
The first strike was on her lower leg. A light tap.
Then another. And another.
The taps grew firmer and they travelled up her leg.
The delicious smack of the spatula warmed her thighs. It smarted, but she liked it. After the initial blow, the way her skin throbbed as it recovered was delicious. A moan escaped her lips.
“I told you I know what’s good for you.”
He ran his fingers up her other leg and traced the edge of her panties. She lifted her hips to meet him, encouraging his touch. She thought she’d go mad with desire.
“What an insatiable little cunt you have. I shall have to punish you for that.”
“No, please no, Sir!” Her voice shrilled.
The spatula slammed down on her panty-clad pussy. Ouch!
“No!”
“No, what?” he asked, a smirk in his voice.
“Please, no, Sir.”
“I don’t believe that hurts, darling.”
He stopped anyway. Roger respected her limits. He struck her other leg with the spatula. Her flesh stung, the blood rushed to the surface. Nerve endings came alive.
Ashley squealed.
“You’ve always been such a noisy sub.”
He swatted her with one hand while he sneaked his other hand under her panties and stroked her stunned pussy lips. She gyrated to greet his attentions with her hips, her pussy dripping wet. She wanted him. Roger was right, she had a voracious appetite, and she ached for a release.
Climbing onto the bed next to her, Roger cradled her head to his chest. “Dearest Ashley. You are such a good girl.”
He untied her feet. Grateful for her newfound freedom, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he entered her. Rocking into her body, back and forth in a sensuous motion, he bent his head and caught a nipple between his lips. He worked it with his tongue and teeth, and she whimpered until her lust became a raging fire.
When she could hold back no longer, she came all over his cock, her walls pulsing and grasping snugly around him. She shuddered and collapsed, spent.
Roger lifted her hips and thrust deeper. He clasped both hands underneath her ass, holding tightly as he pulsed hard and fast into her. Ashley clasped her ankles together behind his back and held on as he ravaged her juicy pussy.
Roger pushed one final time before he collapsed on top of her.
“Oh, Sir,” she said, “that was intense.” She nibbled on his ear and held him close.
“Yes, it was,” he agreed. His mouth found hers, both of them hungry to seal the pact their bodies had just made.
Chapter Two
The next morning Ashley asked Roger about his favourite foods. If she was going to do this, she meant to start with a bang right out of the gate.
“Turkey,” he said. “The kind people eat at Thanksgiving.”
Ahhh. A large hen, not some sliced up meat from the deli.
“No problem,” she assured him, and scooted him out of the door, offering him a peck on the lips as he said goodbye.
After closing the door, Ashley sat down at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee to contemplate her next move. When it came to the gastronomic arts, she knew most girls inherited their skills from family members. Ashley’s mother had been first-rate in the kitchen. But she had never taught Ashley anything, and she had never thought to ask her mother about how to prepare a meal.
Seems kinda stupid now. Wish I’d taken advantage of that time when I had it. She propped her chin up with one elbow. But her mother had catered to Ashley and her father. It had been her way. Then she had died in her late forties and Ashley’s father had introduced her to the world of frozen food and take-out she knew today.
She picked up the phone and dialled the number for Roger’s class.
The woman on the other end of the line answered in an ancient, raspy voice. She seemed to have a hard time understanding Ashley and kept asking her to speak up until Ashley was practically screaming into the phone. Not a good sign.
The class was being held at the stodgy old lady’s house. Hmm. She didn’t relish being trapped in a stranger’s house all day. Creepy. She’d thought the class would be held at a community centre or someplace like that.
Plus, what if the old lady had cats? Ashley was terribly allergic.
She sneezed just thinking about it.
Okay, not taking the class. Crumbling up the ad, Ashley tossed it in the wastebasket.
Then she decided to do what anyone of her generation would do—she turned on her Wi-Fi.
She watched Internet videos on cooking turkeys until she almost fell asleep. When the last online video came to an end, Ashley yawned and snapped the laptop closed. It didn’t look that tricky. Basically, all she had to do was throw the turkey into a roasting pan and pop it into the oven for a few hours. She made a phone call to her client, emailed her some files then headed off to the store.
Hours later, Ashley stood in the kitchen staring at the turkey and all her groceries.
To make life easier, she had also bought refrigerated mashed potatoes. A lady at the grocery store had told her nobody would be able to tell the difference between those and the kind made from scratch. She had purchased canned vegetables, frozen rolls and a pre-made sweet potato casserole.
Was she cheating? Well, maybe a little, but Rome wasn’t built in a day…the turkey was already going to be a monumental task.
It was time to tackle the bird. Ashley put it in the sink and began cutting the wrapper off with scissors. Copious amounts of pink juices flowed out everywhere. “Eeeeeeewwwwww!” Ashley shrieked and jumped back, dropping the turkey in the sink.
Gathering herself, she approached the poultry again. She picked it up and finished removing the rest of the wrapper. Then she remembered from the videos that she was supposed to remove the neck and some other parts from inside the bird. Ugh. Okay, here goes. Stic
king her hand down into the neck area of the bird, she found there was something down in there.
She grabbed hold and tugged. It didn’t want to budge.
Huh.
She tried again.
Nothing.
Hmm. She considered the matter.
Maybe if I fill the cavity with hot water like when you have a ring that’s stuck on your finger…
She turned the water on. While it was heating up, she washed her hands and put away the rest of the groceries.
After the warm water had run over the turkey for several minutes, Ashley yanked on the slimy internal packet one last time, and it finally gave way. Hooray! Goodbye neck.
She turned the bird over and winced as she removed another large package from the other end. Who knew what was in that? She didn’t want to. Something about giblets, but she was skipping that part. So far, the whole thing was disgusting.
She rinsed, then salted and peppered the bird before placing it into the roasting pan. She shoved an onion and some celery into the open cavity then placed pats of butter onto the breast and onto the legs. Then she set it into the oven at three-fifty and made a note of the time as per the instructions from the video she had seen.
Several hours later, the apartment smelt divine, the aroma of a homemade meal wafting through the air giving the apartment a cosy feel that made Ashley beam with pride. It should be time to remove the turkey from the oven. Having forgotten to buy oven mitts, Ashley ran around searching for towels to use.
She prepared the other dishes and waited impatiently for Roger to come home. How exciting that he was going to try her dinner, the first one she had ever made.
While she waited, she tried to distract herself with magazines and television, but the twenty minutes until he arrived home seemed like two hours. When she finally heard his key in the lock, Ashley jumped up to greet him at the door.
“It smells delicious in here!” Roger’s enthusiasm washed over her.
“Thank you, Sir,” she said, basking in his praise.
“You made a turkey?”
Her lips widened from one ear to the other. “I sure did.”
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