I felt his hands on my waist, grabbing me gently. He brushed his lips against the side of my neck. “You’re doing so well on paleo, you know that, don’t you baby?”
I moaned, as he dragged his hands lower to cup my ass.
“Your curves are gorgeous.“ He laid a small kiss against my ear. “Perfect.” he wound his fingers in the waistband of my skirt and inched it down.
I tried to ignore his ministrations while I continued putting the finishing touches on the caramel cream pie that he had asked me to make for him.
“Naughty girl… Not wearing any panties today.“
I giggled. “No, sir.“
“Is it a special kind of torture to make me sweets that you’re not allowed to eat?“ He worked the skirt down over my hips, and as soon as it cleared the flare of my ass, it dropped to the floor, leaving me bare from the waist down.
I tried to turn around so I could look at him, but he stopped me in mid-motion. “No, baby. Keep working on what you’re working on. I’ll keep working on what I’m working on.“
I turned back to the pie, squeezing whipped cream out of the pastry bag, trying not to blush as his hands crawled over my skin and found the wet slickness of my pussy waiting for him.
“Such a dirty girl. No panties.“ He smacked my ass, lurching me forward. “And a wet, needy pussy. What should we do with such a thing?”
I piped the last of the whip cream on top and put the pastry bag down, admiring my own work. Admittedly, it did look delicious, and it has been weeks – no, months – since I had been able to indulge in this kind of sugary, high-carb treat.
If I were honest, I would’ve told him that yes, it absolutely was a special kind of torture.
I looked at the pie and my mouth watered, thinking about all that delicious caramel, whipped cream, and buttery crust and how it would feel in my mouth.
But no, I was being good.
I was making healthy choices; I was taking care of my body. I wasn’t going to be derailed by his silly little games. He liked to tease me, I knew that. But I wasn’t going to let him win this time.
I felt his hand on the small of my back, pushing me forward over the edge of the counter. I pushed the pie forward, so I didn’t land on it, just in time. He lined up the head of his cock against my asshole, and I heard him spit. Warm, slimy saliva dripped cooly over my needy hole. I moaned, without meaning to.
“Such a perfect little slut with such perfect curves. I’m really proud of you, baby. You really are doing so well on this diet, you know that?“ He began to push himself in, and I began to push back, eager for him to be inside of me. I thought his question was redundant, so I didn’t bother answering.
He wrapped his fingers in my hair roughly, blowing my spine so that my ear was almost next to his face. “I asked you something, sweet thing. Answer me.“ His voice was a hissing threat over his syrupy words, and it made me shiver to hear it.
“I know, Sir.” My voice was strained to match the curve in which he held my spine.
“Good girl.“ Now I could hear the smile in his voice. “But you know how I like to mess up your plans don’t you?” He let go of my hair, but continued to fuck my ass, slowly.
I furrowed my brow, trying to think of what he had planned.
But he really did make it so goddamned hard to think, with his cock stretching my asshole.
“That pie looks delicious, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,“ I whispered.
“I bet you’re imagining what it would taste like, aren’t you?“
“Yes,” I said, even softer this time.
“Such a perfect round ass for me to fuck,“ he said. “You’ve been doing so well on paleo, baby.”
There was some threat in his voice that made me nervous, that made me wet and eager for his capricious attention. I moaned. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Such a good girl.“ He shoved his cock in my ass, to the hilt.
I screamed at the painful intrusion, the violation of my body. I screamed for him, as he gripped a messy handful of my hair and pushed my face into the beautiful pie that I had just made.
The soft whipped cream and caramel filling oozed around my face, into my mouth, the sugary filling assaulting my brain with pleasure that I hadn’t experienced in so long. I felt the slick custard slide over my skin and between my lips, as he fucked my ass and held me down.
He took deep, rough strokes, and coupled with the humiliation of having my face pushed down into the slimy mess … The feeling of degradation was like a searing knife down the front of my body. I moaned, emotions swirling in my head.
Debasement, anger. Desperation. Aching need.
Sugar. All that delicious, addictive sugar.
I orgasmed as he abused my tightest hole and defiled my face with all of my hard work. I gushed all over the floor in between us, which only added to my humiliation.
Feeling my body helplessly contract around him sent him over the edge as well.
He buried his own orgasm into my ass with one final brutal stroke. I took a deep, ragged breath between the taste of caramel and crust.
He spun me around and pushed me to my knees into the puddle on the floor, my face still a mess of dripping custard and whipped cream and crust pieces. “Now clean me off,“ he said. “See how your ass tastes along with that caramel pie.“
A crushing indignity flushed over my cheeks, as I opened my mouth. He pushed his cock between my lips. The bitterness was impossible to ignore, and I left a ring of sweet caramel filling on his stomach, as he pushed himself all the way down my throat.
“Fuck, yes… my gorgeous, filthy little whore. Clean me off and thank me for fucking up your plans.”
My blush burned with the taste of defilement. I laughed, I couldn’t help it. “Thank you for fucking up my plans, Sir.”
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