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.