Kitchen Delights (3 page)

The look in his eyes told her he was only
half-joking when he said, “Don’t tempt me.”

Showing more willpower than she thought he
had, he put the tie box at an angle between her breasts, centered
between the nipple balls, and picked up the camera. After a couple
of shots, he all but threw the camera onto the table and started
unbuckling his belt.

“Okay, fuck this. I can’t concentrate.”

Jeri’s heart sped up in anticipation, and not
a little self-satisfaction, as he started stripping. She barely had
time to spread her legs before he was naked and on top of her, his
thick cock thrust up against his belly. As his fingers spread her
pussy lips and his cock head pressed between them, she filled her
fingers with his hair and pulled his face toward her right
breast.

Giggling, secretly quite pleased she could
distract him so easily, she thrust her balled nipple toward his
open mouth. “There you go, baby. You can have your meatballs now.
I’ll fix spaghetti later.”

He slammed his penis into her. She gasped as
his mouth enveloped the tip of her right breast and his fingers
pinched her left. His lips and tongue were a warm, wonderful
balance to the throbbing pain; it was all a sensation she’d never
felt before, and one she wanted more of. He fucked her with quick,
short thrusts—the kind of fucking she knew got him off quickest. As
her pussy started to tingle, she found herself wanting to feel more
than just his lips and tongue.

Just as she began fantasizing about what it
would be like if her breast was covered in tomato sauce, her balled
nipple surrounded by spaghetti, and—most importantly—what his teeth
might feel like biting into her tasty “meatball,” he tensed and
groaned.

Her fantasy evaporated like a burst bubble as
she worked hard to try to catch up, grinding herself against his
spurting cock as hard as she could. She’d just started feeling her
climax start when he finished, and the last of his come tricked
inside her. She pushed her breast up at him, desperately inviting
him to bite, clenching her pussy in a futile effort to hold. But he
pulled out, leaving her groaning for more.

“Marc?!” She made no effort to hide the
frustration in her voice.

He toweled himself off and looked knowingly
at her obviously well-used pussy. “What? You already took care of
yourself. You think I couldn’t tell?”

They both masturbated, and they both knew it,
but they
never
talked about it. Mortified, Jeri felt herself
blush. She thought about asking how he could tell, but thought
better of it. He’d just managed to embarrass her into submission,
though not enough that she lost the desire to come.

The next series of shots involved a ludicrous
looking plastic wrap box. For this grouping, Jeri stretched her
arms high, and Marc wrapped transparent wrap around her torso. The
first layer crossed her breasts, pressing them flat. Her hard
nipples threatening to poke through the thin cellophane while
pressing back into her areola. The cream-colored flesh looked
whiter against the wrap as it compressed them down.

Marc was all business as he wrapped several
layers and then handed the fancy holder to Jeri, who held it
against her chest. After a couple of shots, Marc snatched up the
small scissors and went for a nipple, snagging the wrap just as it
appeared he was going for something more fleshy and painful. He
sliced an opening just wide enough that the pert nub of flesh poked
through. Her body heat had begun to warm her torso considerably,
and the cool air against the freed nipple felt wonderful.

In moments, the other one poked out and Marc
went back to shooting. He seemed to enjoy that series, though, by
the time it was done, Jeri all but ducked her sweaty tits in ice
water. She considered calling for a longer break, with plans to
take better care of herself this time.

But Marc’s boner seemed to have recovered
nicely, and his “kid in a candy shop” demeanor was back, so she
opted to let him keep playing while she went back to stealing the
occasional fingering.

He fished a gargantuan hypodermic-looking
gadget from the box. She recognized it immediately as a turkey
baster, though this one was made of chrome and glass and was as
expensive as hell. He moved the mammoth needle closer to the
recently freed, and still pulsating, tit. As the giant needle began
pressing into her areola to one side of her nipple, Marc smiled
slightly. “Tell me when it gets dangerous, love. I want to know
just how far to go for the timer.”

Jeri nodded silently and closed her eyes,
concentrating on the feeling of the dull needle against her flesh,
dealing with the pressure as it gradually changed to pain. The
large needle was meant for thinner skin, and it would have taken a
deliberate effort to pierce her, but she had no doubt it could
happen. Regardless, even a dull needle had its limits. When she
thought it was close to punching through, and the pain was almost
too much to take, she clipped out a quick, “Now!”

Marc immediately stopped the baster’s
downward progress and kissed Jeri on the cheek. With a hurried,
“Thanks, love,” he stepped behind the camera, set the timer,
pressed the shutter release, and darted back up to her. Just before
the camera went off, he stabbed the great needle back into her
areola.

Jeri suppressed a yelp, having no doubt that
he’d jammed the cold steel further than she’d told him to, but she
kept quiet and let him work. After a few shots, he made her lie
back down on her back. When she did, he held the baster like an ice
pick and stabbed the needle down brutally, completely ignoring
anything he may have learned about her pain threshold a few minutes
earlier, jabbing it deeply into her right areola as the shutter
fell.

Jeri bit off a scream only long enough for
him to pinch her nipple roughly and jab the baster needle in from
the side. The fact that the needle hadn’t actually punctured didn’t
keep it from feeling that way, and she dealt with each deep jab by
squeezing her thighs together and concentrating on the pattern in
the ceiling, trying her best not to screech often. By the time the
series was done, she wasn’t certain which red-dotted tit was
throbbing the worst.

After checking the shots to make sure they
were good, Marc wrapped an arm around Jeri’s shoulder and kissed
her. She was still idly rubbing her nipples after just barely
pulling a hand back from her pussy before he turned.

“I tell you what, let’s take a break and ice
those down for a bit, then we’ll come back and see about finishing
up.”

Jeri smiled up at him, a knowing twinkle
dancing in her eyes. “I know full well why you want to ice ‘em
down, but it sounds good to me. Come on.” She guided him back to
the kitchen and let him fend for some snacks while she grabbed a
large hunk of ice. By the time he had started munching on a couple
of carrot sticks, she was sliding the ice around on her nipples.
The effect brought Marc up short. He gazed hungrily at her
glistening, rock hard nubs and the surrounding rigid flesh.

With an emphatic, “Mph!” he nudged her hand
aside and sucked a cool tip into his mouth, rolling his tongue over
the bumpy contours and gnawing blithely. Jeri tousled his hair and
then backed away, pulling the now warm tit from his lips with a wet
pop.

“Back to work, Fido!”

After a bit of protest from her husband, they
went back to the table. Marc told her to lay a breast on top of the
table. “OK, love arms up, tit ready...”

Marc took a few moments to briskly rub the
tip of her tit until her nipple and the ring of color around it
tightened again. When he was satisfied, he pulled a fancy pair of
tongs from the box. After setting the camera timer, he closed the
tongs hard behind her nipple, pressing her areola until the
rose-colored skin bulged through the triangle-shaped jaws. After
taking a series of timed shots where he tugged and twisted with the
steel tool, drawing an occasional pained wince from his model, he
set the tongs aside and took a pair of corn picks from the
remaining accessories.

The picks were made up of a miniature molded
steel corn cob with two very wicked looking tines sticking out one
end. Jeri arched an eye slightly as her husband handed her a pick.
She’d wondered what she would say if he ever asked her to play with
needles, but she’d never considered anything as radical as being
skewered. Not sure she was ready to go that far for the cause, she
snagged a nipple and stretched it out, then slid the tines above
and below it.

After a few quick shots, he popped the corn
pick off of her nipple, smiled with evil mischief and pointed at a
rather fancy carving set, an evil looking paring knife and a
modernistic looking black bagel spreader with a Ginsu knife that
looked sharp enough to slice steel.

“Next up...
The Kitchen Delight’s line of
fine quality cutting instruments
… now
this
is going to
be fun.”

Jeri was dubious about her husband’s
definition of “fun,” but followed his instructions to lie back
across the table regardless. She watched with some curiosity, and
more than some concern, while Marc took the bagel spreader and
clamped his left hand on the underside of her breast, compressing
it to about a third of its resting size. He slid the bagel spreader
up around it, thrusting the wrinkled nipple and areola up
enticingly. Try as he might, however, he couldn’t get her breast to
compress enough to stay inside the spreader. The dull pain coursing
through her breast as he squeezed was testament to how hard he
tried.

Marc finally gave up, letting the spreader
just rest on her breast, then set the camera’s timer and moved
toward her with the knife. Jeri closed her eyes and gripped the
edge of the table behind her head as he Ginsued straight down on
the trapped tit. She winced noticeably as the Japanese blade
threatened to break the tender flesh, its vicious-looking
serrations biting, but, even through several more shots—and much to
her amazement—her soft skin held.

Jeri next found herself leaning forward onto
the table, her heavier left breast settled between the four
sharpened chrome prongs of a steel roast holder on top of a
translucent plastic carving board. At Marc’s command, she took the
chrome-handled meat fork in her left hand and the matching carving
knife in her right and slowly slid the fork down her areola as if
she was slicing her breast for deli service.

The thought of a sliced Jeri-breast sandwich,
or something, did it for him, because it was obviously all he could
do just to take the shots without jumping her bones. After his
first reaction to her ‘meatballs’ and now to the deli-slicing…she
wondered if she should have been concerned about her husband having
some latent cannibalistic fetish, but she was having too much fun
watching his reaction—and hoping for more. Teasing him, she brought
the knife down in front of the fork and pressed the laser-serrated
edge into the base of the trapped bud of flesh as if she was about
to slice her nipple off. He almost knocked the tripod over.

Giggling, she ignored the excruciating pain
and drew the blade backward. The jagged edge tugged the captured
nipple sideways. Just as she began to feel the tell-tale sting that
signaled the pending onset of bleeding, she held still, looking at
her nipple’s reflection in the knife’s mirror-clear blade until
Marc had taken a half a dozen shots.

By the time that was done, the bulge in his
pants was so pronounced she could see the outline of his cock. He
licked his lips. “You’re too good, love. Now, lie down and pull ‘em
tight.” He then set the timer and took the carving set from
her.

Jeri snuck another quick feel as she lay
spread-eagle on the table and stretched her arms back above her
head. She pulled on the edge of the dinette and thrust her breasts
up, elongating her breasts and pulling her nipples taut. Once the
timer began, Marc positioned himself so that only his hands were in
view and then jabbed the fork down next to her nipple. She winced
at the sharp pain that the pointed tines sent coursing through her
tit, but had little time to react before the knife blade slid down
the fork and pressed directly onto the tip of her engorged
nipple.

With less than two seconds to go before the
shutter fell, he pressed harder, using just enough pressure to make
it look and feel as if the rigid bud would split. Marc seemed to
know exactly how much pressure her tender flesh could bear,
however. When the flash went off, Marc jumped slightly, and Jeri
responded by doing the same. Both the fork and the knife bit harder
as her chest bounced. Though the fork didn’t quite puncture, the
knife slid just enough to give Jeri a razor cut, eliciting a
clipped scream of pain and then a gasp of surprise when she felt
her pussy clench.

Marc started to stop, but she shook her head.
“No! I’m fine…” She hadn’t intended on sounding so eager.

Several shots later, a few razor thin lines
of red decorated both her buds and the upper ridges of her crinkled
areolas. They stung, but it was a wonderfully erotic feeling that
translated to a slow boil building in her lower belly and clit.

Almost reluctantly, Marc set the carving set
aside and grabbed a paring knife. “OK, this will be it for the
knives. Sit up again, hon’.”

Jeri heaved herself back up. If her nipples
could talk, they’d have told her to take the job and shove it. Her
pussy, on the other hand, would have told them to shut up.
Regardless of which body parts wanted what, their owner was almost
ready to rape her husband. She closed her eyes, concentrating on
the constant ache, and interlaced her fingers behind her head to
lift and stretch her tits.

Though the added pull on her knifed areolas
sent a renewed rush of pain jetting through her breasts, she smiled
stoically and thrust her chest out while Marc set the camera angle.
Once her tits were adequately displayed, he ducked behind her then
reached around and trapped her right nipple between the blade and
his thumb. He pressed as if he meant to pare the small nub
completely from her body. For a moment, Jeri feared he wouldn’t
stop, particularly as a lancing pain which more than rivaled the
earlier two shot through the pinched nipple. But, once the flash
went off, he stood back up and pulled the knife away.