After a long climb we were up the top of coyote mountain. We were taking in the view, before being caught in a natural spring. The force of which swept us down the mountain at speed into the lake below. As we hit the water I was splashed with a huge wave of water. I then heard someone whisper in my ear;
“You’ll be getting it much worse later on.”
This was while passing a sign encouraging us to buy an on ride photo.
The voice belonged to my boyfriend Tom. The last few weeks we’d spent nearly all our free time together, after we’d gone from just dating to both falling in love with one another. What had triggered this? Well for some people it happens while watching a beautiful sunset, or over a candlelit dinner. For us it was when I was tied up and Tom covered me in whipped cream. It was for charity.
Coyote mountain is the name of the log flume ride at our local theme park Northbrook park, where me, Tom and 4 of our friends were on a return trip. We’d been earlier in the summer, it’s where the charity pieing that me and Tom, as well as a number of our friends, had taken part in happened. We were enjoying ourselves at the park on the various rides, but there was a little nervous tension between all of us. 3 of us had agreed to another charity pieing session towards the end of the day, first by the public, then in private by our 3 romantic partners.

My friend Lisa had suggested signing up for a second session a few weeks ago. To be honest once Tom promised he’d definitely be paying for another private session I didn’t need that much convincing. We’d checked the parks website and encountered a bit of a quandary. We needed at least 3 people in our group to be guaranteed having the torture chamber where things took place to ourselves, otherwise another small group could be paired up with us, which we didn’t really want for the private session. We asked our two friends who were also with us last time. Holly said no, and had moved away for the summer to be with her family anyway. Donna was obviously a little tempted, but still said no. We thought we’d just have to hope for the best, until a few days before when we got a text from Donna saying her boyfriend Harry had agreed to take part, and let her pie him.
Now I thought about it the idea of tying up Tom and getting some messy revenge had a lot of appeal. As it was coming to the end of the summer holidays though, and we didn’t know if or when there would be another charity pie session I didn’t want to pass up this chance. I’d have to make my revenge a surprise for a later date.

Of course this being Harry’s first time we knew he’d be a little nervous, so as we made our way towards the torture chamber area we advised and reassured him as best we could.
“Don’t worry about the fact you going to be publicly humiliated.”
“Remember, if a pie is thrown at your head, hold still and let it hit you directly in the face. That’s how you avoid the worse of the mess.”
“The ones direct in your face are the most fun actually. Make sure your mouth is open so you get a mouthful of cream.”
O.K. we weren’t being that reassuring, but we‘d known Harry for a long time so knew he had a good sense of humour. To be honest I was a little nervous myself. Not about being pied by Tom, but I was still a little nervous about the public pieing, even though I had enjoyed that last time.

One difference this time as we weren’t a last minute replacement was we got a little more backstage hospitality. We were shown the workshop backstage area were a load of horror themed props were being worked on for when the Torture Chamber was going to be turned into a Halloween horror maze at the end of the summer holidays. We also got to see a large kitchen area where the pastry crusts and whipped cream had been brought wholesale, and they showed us a few pies being made for us.

Eventually our 3 partners were taken back to the dressing room and we were shown to the dressing room. We were given the use of 2 rooms this time, as we were a mixed gender party, but we decided we didn’t want to make Harry wait on his own, and we trusted him to stay separate as me and Lisa went behind the dressing screen to get changed.
“How are things going between you and Richard?” I asked.
“Very well” she giggled. “After accidentally finding you preparing for a messy session a few weeks back I decided to have it so Richard “accidentally” found me as I was preparing for a solo messy session.”
“Really” I exclaimed.
“I managed to get him to mess me up, and after seeing how much I enjoyed it, and it wasn’t as weird as he imagined he’s willing to be a little more adventurous now.”
We had both decided to bring in some special cloths for our session. Lisa had opted for a patterned blue and green bikini, along with a sarong she wrapped around her stomach to preserve some modesty during the public session. I decided to go for some black lingerie, and to preserve my modesty I had a patterned sarong wrap dress, that covered my torso, and draped down to just above my knees. I made sure the knot at the back of my neck holding the dress up was tied very securely, to make sure there’d be no embarrassing accidents. I also had a long scarf that I tied around my waste like a belt. While Lisa had opted to go barefoot, I’d brought along the red strappy 5 inch stiletto sandals I’d seen on special offer a few weeks back.

We came out the screen and had some time to talk to the member of staff who we only got to talk to briefly last time. Turns out she was from the charity, and was in charge of this fundraising event over the summer. She was a little surprised when she found out we’d done this before.
“I don’t remember your names being on the system” she said.
“It might be because last time we were last minute replacements, this is the first time we’ve booked online” I replied.
“That could be why” she said. “It doesn’t matter now. The number of volunteers has started to dry up now it’s almost the end of summer, so I don’t think your stopping anyone who wants a go having one. Does this mean you know what happens when the public finish then?”
“Yes” me and Lisa giggled. “Have you ever tried a private session with your boyfriend?” Lisa asked.
“Well, girlfriend actually, but yes.” she blushed.
“Who pied who, and where?” Lisa asked.
“She pied me while I was chained to the platform” she said.
“You don’t watch the private sessions too closely?” I asked.
“We try to let people get on with it. We’ve had to step in once or twice where people have gone a bit far, like trying to remove clothing without permission” she replied.
“Your O.K. then” Lisa said to me. “They only step in if you don’t want your cloths removed.”
“Your only jealous because you wanted your tits pied” was my reply.
“Sorry about this Harry” I said. Realizing we must have been embarrassing him.
“Since you’ve done this before I reckon we can give you a bit more freedom” said the staff member. “I don’t mind a chance to make an early start on some paperwork I’ve got to do. I’ll still be within earshot in the office by the entrance if you need me. Otherwise come and find me there when your ready to be taken to the park exit.”
“Will we be able to choose where we go in the chamber?” Harry asked.
“Normally we do it randomly to avoid any arguments, but if you can all agree where you want to go it shouldn’t be a problem” replied the staff member.
“Donna said she was hoping I’d end up tied up on the platform” Harry said.
“I would feel most comfortable on the chair again” said Lisa.
“I’d not really thought about it” I said. “Now you mention it though that cross does look interesting. I’d like to see what that’s like.”
We continued chatting for another 5 minutes or so, until there was a knock on the door informing us it was time to go.

We all went out together and were told which staff member was ours. Tradition dictated we still had to be blindfolded before being taken away.
“You can leave your handbag in the dressing room” I was told.
“It’s got my camera and stuff in it. Could you just leave it out of the way at the back of the chamber” I replied.
“O.K, as long as your willing to risk it getting messy.”
I was blindfolded, and led by one arm as I tottered down the hall to my fate. I thought I’d be a little less nervous this time, but even walking down the hall my breathing was a little heavier than normal. I’d been hit by a wave of nervous excitement in anticipation of what was to come. I once again felt myself pass through the curtain to be greeted by a large cheer, and even a few cat-calls and wolf whistles. The sense of anticipation grew as I felt my wrists and ankles beings strapped to what I knew was the large cross. With the straps in place I tried struggling against them, and found I had a little wiggle room, but was essentially trapped standing up against it. I gave out a quiet gasp as my blindfold was removed and I saw the crowd behind the fence in front of me, as I realised I’d reached the point of no return.

The first person to buy a pie was a young man, who looked about 19. He looked a little nervous as he stood opposite me holding a pie. I gave him an encouraging smile as he lifted the pie ready to throw. He threw and the pie struck me squarely in the chest. I giggled as the foil case fell down, and the cream and pieces of pastry slowly slid down my dress. The next couple of pies also struck me in the body, until a man about my age stepped up, and he was looking right at my face. I playfully shook my head, as I closed my eyes and braced myself. Disappointingly his aim was slightly off, with the pie glancing the right side of my face, and some of it landing on my shoulder.
“Is that the best you can do?” I playfully called out.
I was about to get my just deserts (bad pun I know) as his mate was next, and he also aimed at my head. This one hit me squarely in the face, completely engulfing my face in the cream. I swallowed some of the sweet tasting cream that went in my mouth, then found myself giggling hysterically as I shook my head to clear my eyes as the crowd clapped and cheered. Once I’d received that first pie to the face people became a lot less nervous about aiming to throw more there. Not that I minded that, most of the time I was happy to hold still to allow for a more accurate hit. I even deliberately asked the staff member to wipe my face between trolleys, as I knew the first thing people would try to do was mess it up again.
During the third trolley more people did start to aim for my exposed arms and legs, now my dress and head had been completely covered in cream. Quite a few hit me on the bare skin on my arms and legs, and even my feet, leaving my toes squelching in a large pile of cream.
This time it was after the 5^th trolley of pies that the crowds started to leave. It was no surprise to see Lisa had enjoyed herself, sitting in the chair almost completely covered in cream. Harry was also similarly covered kneeling on the platform, but by the looks of it he had held out pretty well. I’d noticed that a high proportion of the girls who had brought pies had thrown them at Harry. Luckily Donna wasn’t the jealous type, although she’d be the only one to get her hands on him in this state. We didn’t have to wait long either. The public had now gone, and we heard the sound of another trolley.

Tom soon came into view, and we made slightly embarrassed eye contact, as I squatted down as far as my restraints would let me in a playfully submissive gesture. He placed the trolley just beside me and then stood right in front of me, lightly pressing his body against mine.
“Someone’s looking very sexy” he said.
I responded by leaning forward and placing a warm kiss on his lips, smearing some of the cream from my face on to his.
“Is it me or is it a little warm in here” I whispered in his ear. “Could you loosen my cloths. There’s a not at the back of my neck you can undo.”
He nervously reached up and undid the knot. He also undid the scarf around my waist, and unwrapped the sarong around my body, until he was standing in front of me holding the messy remains of my dress, slowly looking up and down my lingerie clad body as we both exchanged nervous smiles.
The next part was a little unexpected as instead of discarding the dress immediately he took the cream covered side and pressed it up against my torso. I closed my eyes and clenched my fists as I felt the incredibly pleasurable sensation of his hands slowly rubbing their way down my body, smearing cream into it as they went. They worked their way across my stomach, and then down to give a tantalising rub across my pelvis, before drawing back, and Tom finally discarded my dress.

Next Tom took one of the pies from the trolley and held it teasingly in front of my face.
“Are you looking forward to having a load of these in your face?” he asked.
“Yes” I smiled.
“How many do you think you can take in a row?” he asked, while slowly tilting the pie ever closer to my face.
I kept smiling as I closed my eyes, with my heart pounding in anticipation. It was another 6 or 7 teasing seconds before the pie was pushed in my face. I let out a moan of pleasure as I felt my face being engulfed in cream as Tom firmly held the pie there for several seconds, before sliding it up to the top of my head and smearing my hair there. He then removed the foil tray leaving the pastry to crumble and slide down my head. I only had a couple of seconds to recover before I got another pie engulfing my face. This one he slid round to the right side of my face, and then down on to my shoulder, before leaving the pastry there. The next pie was quick in coming, this time sliding on to my left side. I was expecting a short break at that point, but instead ended up receiving a pie sandwich, as a pie engulfed either side of my face, and where slid forward until all but my mouth was completely engulfed in the thick cream. As Tom released the pressure I shook my head to dislodge the foil trays, and some of the pastry, only to receive another pie shoved firmly in my face. This one he pushed in and left there. I let out a gasp a received a large mouthful of cream as yet another pie was placed in my face. I started heavily gasping and panting as I was overcome by the intensity of what I’d just been through. I was still catching my breath as Tom gently wiped the cream out of my eyes so I could open them.
“Did you enjoy that? He asked, while flirtily wiping my lips. I responded by grasping his fingers with my lips and playfully caressing them. I did this while we looked into each others eyes for about a minute until I had recovered from the emotional shock.
“Your face is now nicely covered, but your body’s now looking a bit clean” Tom said.
“You might want to look in my bag for that” I said.
He was a little surprised by my response.
“Go on. I’ve brought along a little surprise, it’s in the main compartment” I continued.
As he went to find it I had a quick look to see how the others were doing. I saw Richard had untied Lisa from the chair, and she was now kneeling on the ground, rubbing the cream over her body as Richard continued to throw the pies at her. Harry was still tied up on the platform as Donna teasingly rubbed the cream over him. I think she was enjoying creating a certain amount of sexual frustration for Harry.
Tom made his return quickly though, and he was holding what I’d hidden in my bag. 2 cartons of chocolate custard. I once again squatted a little, thrusting my pelvis forward a little, to create a surface for him to pour it on to. I let out a little giggle as the cold sensation hit me. He started high up, just below my neck, pouring it from left to right until it was all slowly dripping down my body. He then took the left cup of my bra, pulled it forward and poured the custard inside the cup, filling it with a gooey mess, before pouring the remaining contents of the first carton into my right cup.
Next he opened the second carton, and started by pouring it over my stomach. He let it slow drip down before playfully teasing his finger along the top of my knickers. I closed my eyes and clenched my fists, bracing myself as he pulled them open and poured the custard inside them. At first the cold sensation numbed me a little, but once I adjusted to that the sensation of the custard squelching against my pelvis was incredible. I realised I was becoming dripping wet down there as I found myself wriggling to enhance the sensation. This enhanced the pleasurable sensation, but increased my sexual frustration as it wasn’t enough stimulation to make me to cum. I desperately wanted to do something about this but I was still tied up at Tom’s mercy.

The next 4 pies he used to mess up my limbs, slowly massaging the contents of each pie across my arms and legs, smearing cream on every part of it. He then took a pie in each hand and stood in front of me giving me a sultry look, which he happily returned. He then took the two pies and smashed them both into my arse. I groaned with pleasure as he slowly rubbed the cream in. I felt his hands work there way into my knickers as his hands slowly made their way further in. I let out a shocked, but pleasurable gasp as his hands touched around my anal area. As he continued to stimulate it I tilted my head back and the world became a blur.
“Don’t stop” I begged, as he slid his hands back just before I nearly climaxed.
“You know you won’t enjoy the other pies as much if you cum to soon” he said.
I once again struggled in the restraints, but with more intensity as I now desperately wanted to get hold of Tom and fuck him. To my dismay they held me firmly in place, forcing me to endure a frustrating wait.
“You’ll at least do my tits next?” I pleaded.
He smiled and nodded. He reached around behind me and undid the fastening on my bra. He couldn’t take it off completely due to the shoulder straps, but instead lifted it up over my head, which caused some of the custard to drip down on to me. My tits were already covered in custard, but my rock hard nipples stuck out in the chocolate coloured silhouette. As Tom stood in front of me I leaned back on the cross, and closed my eyes in anticipation. I let out a moan of pleasure as the pies were firmly pressed onto my tits, and Tom slowly rubbed the cream and pastry into them. I then felt his left hand go back, and felt his lips pressing against my breast, and his tongue gently caressing my nipple. He then swapped over using his tongue on my right nipple, and caressing my left breast with his hand.
He then stepped back, but didn’t stop with the pies though as he rubbed the next one in to my stomach, and then took two more to sandwich my head, first rubbing cream in my hair, before sliding the pies forward to engulf my face.

I laughed with enjoyment as he wiped the cream out of my eyes.
“5 pies left” he said. “You know where the last one’s going to go. Do you want these other 4 rubbed on slowly, or mercilessly thrown at you?” He asked.
“Throw them quickly” I said. I was soaking wet, and my nipples ached from being hard for so long. I desperately wanted some relief from the tension I felt.
He took the first pie and threw it at my face. It hit me hard tilting my head back slightly, and engulfing my face in a thick layer of cream. I opened my mouth in shock, which was a mistake as the next pie hit me, and I felt a large amount of cream squelch into my mouth. I giggled as there was a slight pause, increasing the tension before the next pie was thrown, quickly followed by the fourth.
I then felt Tom’s hands cup each side of my head, and felt Tom’s lips press against mine. I opened my mouth as far as I could, and forcibly pushed myself into him, as our tongues met and started rubbing against each other.
Eventually Tom moved back, and wiped my eyes so I could see him pick up the last pie. I closed my eyes, clenched my fists and pulled on the restraints as he slowly slid my knickers down and placed the pie on my pelvis. My breathing got deeper and deeper as he slowly rubbed the cream and pastry all over it. I then felt two of his fingers slide into my vagina, and massage my clit. At that point everything else faded from my mind and memory as I was overwhelmed by the ever increasing sensation of pleasure, until I let out one last loud moan as I climaxed intensely.

After that Tom undid the restraints around my wrists and ankles, and I put my arms around him, and rested my head on his shoulder. He put his arms around me and gently rubbed my back, while I slowly recovered. Eventually I was able to steady myself a little more and placed a warm kiss on his lips before readjusting my bra, and picking my sarong back up and draping it over my shoulders.
I looked over to see Lisa and Richard standing next to one another, each with an arm draped over the other. Donna was kneeling next to Harry, who she hadn’t released yet, with an arm over his shoulder.
“Did everyone enjoy themselves?” called out Lisa.
We all laughed and nodded in response. Me and Tom shared eye contact as he squeezed me tight.
“Well Donna, if you let Harry go I think it’s time we all cleaned up” said Lisa.
Harry was soon free, and after giving Donna a messy hug we all made our way back to the dressing rooms. Donna and Harry took the spare one we didn’t use earlier, while the rest of us went to the other one. Me and Lisa headed to the showers, while Richard and Tom grabbed some towels to wipe off their cloths.
About 25 minutes later we were all back in a relatively respectable state. Tom still had some chocolate stains on his t-shirt, but he could hide those under his jacket. We found the member of staff in her office checking her face book page. After a brief chat we were back out in the park. It was a strange experience walking through the park after it had closed. Most of the lights were out, leaving us to walk through a dark twilight, it was an eerily quiet contrast compared to the fun and lively atmosphere we’d normally experience here. Me and Tom were happy to walk hand in hand, slightly apart from the rest of the group, this was a place that would always hold happy memories for us.

So that’s it. The story of what was to slightly misquote one of the great philosophers of our time “the greatest summer of my life, so far.”
Shortly after that reality had to rear it’s ugly head, as we all returned to university, and we had more to worry about than our part time jobs and having fun. What didn’t change though was the love and affection me and Tom developed for one another during the summer. Although things haven’t always been perfect, from that point on neither of us has ever wanted to be with anyone else. We’ve both now graduated, and have found jobs, and have got our own place together. He’s in the lounge now as I type this.

There’s one last thing you should know. A few months ago it was my birthday, we went out at the weekend, but on the day itself Tom brought me my favourite Chinese meal for dinner. For desert he brought out a whipped cream pie, just like the ones use at Northbrook Park. He told me to look for a surprise hidden in the cream. In there was a small leather jewellery box, which contained a silver ring with a red ruby on it. Tom then got on one knee and asked me a very sweet and beautiful question, and I said yes.

Once again, here’s another warning that this series consists of one continuous story. Although we’re not quite into major spoiler territory yet there is quite a bit here where you may not fully understand what’s going on if you’ve not read the previous parts.
This is where the story really starts to develop. It was coming up with the ideas in chapter 6 that changed this project into from a number of linked short stories in to a long ongoing story.
In contrast chapter 8 was one of the ones I struggled for ideas with most. For much of the development it was just some notes with a couple of different ideas for substances to get messy with. In the end I tried a few ideas that placed some restrictions on myself, but once I started writing I was able to put myself in the minds of the characters and the scene flowed out almost organically. After the various problems initially coming up with ideas it was gratifying to eventually come up with what was one of my favourite scenes to write.

Chapter 6:

It’s hard to believe that I was feeling a little down while sitting in a luxury hotel room, after a day of fun, but that’s the situation I was in. For those who’ve just joined me I’ve had a wet and messy fetish for a long time, which I’ve kept secret from everyone I know, even my husband Brandon. Recently though I signed up for a wet and messy enthusiast weekend at Westbrook Manor House in the role of a slave, someone who attends for free, but has all their activities assigned to them. I spent the day not just participating in some fun and enjoyable messy activities, but also sharing our mutual love of getting messy with a lot of great people I met.
Why was I feeling down then? Have you ever been on a great holiday, then felt disappointed when you came back and had to face everyday life again? That would be a close approximation to how I felt then. I was having a great time, but knowing in less than 24 hours I’d be driving back home to a life where I kept my wet and messy fetish a secret was getting to me.
I decided I didn’t want to be stuck in my room all evening, and with my slave duties over for the day I was free to wander around the resort, so I changed into a green dress I‘d brought for the evening and headed downstairs.

I was pleasantly surprised to find quite a bit was going on downstairs. It was pleasantly busy, and a few enquires taught me there were several restaurants and bars operational around the manor. I opted for one of the main bars. I reached it and found a pleasant bar with wooden floors and furnishings. There were a number of landscape paintings around the walls. In the background laid back rock music played creating an ambience.
I was getting my bearings when I saw Bad Attitude and Dead Ringer waving me over. They were sitting in a group on a brown sofa, each with a half eaten burger and fries on the coffee table in front of them. They’d both dressed up for the evening, Bad Attitude had put on a frilly shirt and waistcoat, while Dead Ringer was now sporting a leather corset top and a pair of designer glasses, and had styled her shoulder length brunette hair. I was quickly introduced to the rest of the group, including Lampwick who I recognised and his boyfriend Figaro. After the initial introductions I was happy just ordering my drink and a peanut butter and chilli burger from the bar, and sitting back and relaxing as the banter went on, and different people came and went.

It was a little under an hour later when a girl who obviously knew Bad Attitude and Dead Ringer came up. She looked like one of the younger attendees looking to be in her mid twenties. She had clearly made an effort for the evening with her make up and styled long blond hair. She was wearing black stiletto heels and a tight fitting black dress with a short skirt, open back and an opaque lace panel on the front that showed off a fair amount of her midriff and torso.
“Hi guys” she said.
“Hi Sam” Dead Ringer replied. “How’s the resort business going?”
“Had some problems with some marine themed decorations requested for a wedding last week” Sam replied.
“What happened” Dead Ringer asked.
“We were trying to decorate the pool with the requested marine theme, but some of the old marine equipment that should have floated sunk to the bottom” Sam said.
“You mean you had a buoy with a bad altitude” smiled Dead Ringer.
This resulted in a groan from Bad Attitude as he buried his face in his hands.
“You two had that prepared didn’t you” he groaned. “And look, poor Nurse Bianca doesn’t even know what we’re talking about.”
Actually I had Googled it thanks to the free wifi here. I’d also Googled my own avatar, which turned out to be a mistake.
“Are you Nurse Bianca?” Sam said. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced yet. I’m the resorts owner Sam Westbrook. I’ve had a lot of requests to put you in the dunk tank again” she said.
“You’re the resorts owner?” I asked.
“I took over from dad when I graduated university” she said.
“Don’t let her play innocent” said Bad Attitude. “This place wasn’t the place you see today when she took over.”
“That’s true” Sam replied. “When I took over this was just a tourist attraction. We barely had enough people coming to see the house to cover the cost of maintenance. I managed to convince investors to put up the money to turn this place into a luxury resort. It took a lot of work, but we’ve become successful enough that I can run this place how I want without interference, and no-one questions the odd anomaly like these events held on normally quiet weekends for instance.”

Sam sat down with us, and I was quite happy to just sit back and listen to their stories, until;
“Are you alright Bianca?” Dead Ringer asked. “You seem a little quiet tonight.”
“Oh, it’s nothing” I said.
“Is something wrong?” asked Sam. “I heard you were enjoying yourself.”
“It’s not that” I said. I paused to take a sip of my drink. “It’s just that this is the first time I’ve not had to hide my love of WAM. Knowing I’ll be going back to hiding it again soon is hard to deal with.”
“It’s OK” said Sam, putting a reassuring arm on my shoulder. “You’ll always be welcome here.”
“Don’t you have a boyfriend or husband to share things with?” asked Dead Ringer.
“I’m married, but I’ve not told him I’m into this” I replied. I took a breath before continuing in a very quiet voice; “He doesn’t know I’m here.” I said a tear welling in my eye.
“Tell us what happened” said Dead Ringer. I took another sip of my drink to compose myself.
“I’ve tried to introduce the idea to him. I’ve flirtily suggested the idea of him covering me in custard, or using whipped cream, but he’s just thought I was just mucking about, and not taken it as a serious suggestion. I’ve always been afraid to talk about it further” I said.
“It’s OK” said Sam. “What your going through isn’t as uncommon as you might think. Everyone is so taboo about talking about sex that many are afraid to be who they really are, even when there’s nothing to be ashamed about consenting adults expressing themselves. Instead many people try to repress part of their personality, and all too often they end up expressing themselves in other ways, through frustration or other negative outlets. You don’t need to feel bad for just being who you are.”
“I guess” I said. “I really don’t know what to do now though.”
“You need to accept this part of yourself, and not be afraid to admit to it” Sam said. “You need to talk to your husband and open up, so you can find a positive outlet to express yourself” she continued.
“I’d like to” I said. “I’m just worried about Brandon getting upset, or freaked out if I tell him.”
“I understand that” said Bad Attitude, putting his arm around Dead Ringer. “Telling Patti here about my own wet and messy fetish is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. You think it should be easy to talk to someone you love, but your opening up in a major way, and risking them rejecting a part of your personality.”
“It was worth it though” continued Dead Ringer (or Patti). “Him trusting me to open up made it a lot easier for me to be open about my fantasies of him watching me while I flirted with another man, or him flirting with another woman while I flirted with another man. Once we’d done this we were both able to discuss what we were and weren’t comfortable with, and both express ourselves in ways we’d been afraid to before. The chances are there are fantasies and desires Brandon has that he’s been afraid to tell you.”
I nodded in agreement.
“Once we’d done this it wasn’t just our sex lives that changed, although that did get a lot better” Dead Ringer smiled. “The feelings of passion and love we felt greatly intensified when we both opened up and expressed a part of ourselves we normally keep hidden. I’ve never loved anyone else with the intensity that opening up to this man here created.” she said, while giving Bad Attitude a loving look.
“Do you feel a bit better?” asked Sam, patting me on the shoulder.
“I do, thanks” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’m definitely going to talk with Brandon about this when I get home.”
“I hope you do, I think we all want to see you back here at future events.” said Dead Ringer.
“Are you OK now?” asked Sam “I’ve got an appointment I want to keep soon, so need to make a move.”
“I should be OK” I said.
“We were planning to head over to the central marquee for the Karaoke party soon” said Bad Attitude. “You can come if you want. It might help take your mind off things for a bit.”
“No I’m OK” I said. “I’ll be ready to call it an early night soon. Thanks a lot though, you’ve been a lot of help.”

Chapter 7:

It was the next day, and I was down in the ballroom where an extensive breakfast buffet had been set up. I was feeling a lot better than I had been last night. I wasn’t quite back to normal, but I was determined to have a good time today, and just as determined that I would tell my husband about this, which had lifted the weight of uncertainty off my mind. I’d been instructed to be back in my Nurses Uniform at this point, and thanks to what had to be a minor miracle by the resorts guest laundry service I had a number of passably clean uniforms to choose from. I was currently eating breakfast at one of the tables, exchanging stories with a group of girls I recognised from one of my pie fights yesterday. As breakfast went on I noticed that most people were staying on, even with their meal finished, and quite a few were congregating around the stage at the far end of the room. I soon found out why as the room broke out into a polite round of applause, and those who had been sitting down stood up to view things. Coming on to the stage were a number of people in either smart business dress, or a uniformly identical t-shirt. I recognised Rebecca among them, and a few other people who’d been running some of my activities yesterday. One of the smarter dressed individuals stepped forward holding a microphone.

“Good morning” he said.
“Good morning” the crowd replied nonchalantly.
“That wasn’t very good” he said. “Lets try again. Good morning”
“Piss off” someone immediately shouted, provoking laughter from most of the room.
“I’m afraid I’m not doing requests” the man chuckled as the laughter died down. “For those of you who don’t know me I’m Michael. I’m in charge of the events planning team that’s been brought in to what has to said is one of our more unusual events we do 2 times a year.” There was another round of applause.
“The main speeches will be given during the closing ceremony, but I always like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for being here.”
There was more applause.
“And to thank all the events team, and all the other staff for doing all the work they do that makes these events a success each time” There was an even louder round of applause.
“Of course at this point we always give some special thanks to a group who we won’t necessarily have a chance to thank later, and that’s all the people who’ve put themselves forward as slaves for the weekend. Now some people might think they’ve got an easy time with their reduced costs, but it takes a certain amount of dedication to always be ready to get messy on demand, and have other people choose what you do sometimes missing out your own favourite activities, so I think they deserve a big round of applause.” There was another round of clapping and cheering. While this was going on I noticed 4 of the handlers picking up a wicker basket that they were passed from just off stage.
“As has become a tradition we like to give a special thanks and welcome to our first time slaves; Pretty N Pink, Fourth Angel, Twisted Genius and Nurse Bianca.”
I flushed as I heard my assumed name called out, and the people around me faced me and clapped. One of the baskets was brought over from stage and handed to me, it contained a bottle of wine, a gift box and an array of upmarket chocolates and biscuits, and most notably a few appropriate items such as a bottle of chocolate sauce and cartons of custard.
“You’ll be able to enjoy your presents in your room later” Michael continued. “As a way of welcoming you all into our community it’s become tradition to ask first time slaves to take part in the post breakfast entertainment.”

One of the handlers looked after my hamper as I was nervously led up to the stage to a round of applause. Joining me were two other women and one man. As we were led up I saw 4 wooden palettes, with something concealed under a tarpaulin wheeled onto the stage. I looked out at what must have been a couple of hundred people. I saw a few I recognised. Bad Attitude and Dead Ringer weren’t hard to spot, and I saw Sam chatting with a pair of men, one of whom was wearing a Venetian style opera mask, the other one’s face was obscured by the man in front of him.
“OK, I’ll explain what’s going to happen” said Michael. “You might have noticed at the back of the room we have an area where 4 special one on ones are due to take place.”
I had noticed some stuff at the back of the room, but hadn’t clicked it was for immediate use.
“We’ve ranked those one on ones to most pleasant to least pleasant” Michael continued. “Which one you will depend on how well you do in the next 10 minutes.”
As he said this the 4 tarpaulins were pulled off to reveal 4 round black plastic tubs, just over a meter in diameter, and about 35cm deep. Each one was filled with a white lumpy substance up to 5cm from the top.
“I hope you haven’t eaten too much” said Michael, “As we have a lot of porridge for you 4. What’s going to happen is we’re going to weigh you, don’t worry we won’t tell anyone, and then well put you in a tub each. You’ll then have 3 minutes to put on as much weight as possible by either eating, or covering yourself in the porridge.”
There was a cheer from the audience at this announcement. I was taken behind one of the tubs where a set of scales was located, I was a little reluctant about revealing my weight, but it was only seen by Rebecca who noted it down. I was then helped into the pool by a couple of members of staff where I knelt down. I found myself wading in a thick and gloopy liquid, that clung onto my body in large thick lumps. I looked down the line to see the other 3 participants in a similar position.
“Are you ready?” Michael called out. “Go!”
There was a cheer from the crowd. I lowed my face down to eat a mouthful of porridge, while scooping a load up in my hands and emptying it over my head. I stayed kneeling down like for the first 50 seconds or so eating mouthfuls of porridge and scooping it over my head and back. It was then that I’d spotted Twisted Genius had stuck his legs out over the side to submerge his upper body lying face down in the porridge. I slipped around in the porridge, I opted to stick my legs over while face up so I could just lie back to submerge myself completely under the porridge. I raised myself back up, dripping in white splodgey porridge. At that point I felt a load dripping into my cleavage, which gave my a good idea. I lied back again, with just my head above the porridge, I then unzipped my dress down to my belly button, and scooped as much porridge under my dress as possible, before zipping it back up as far as possible. I was short on time at this point so I pushed myself back, sitting with my back against the side, and then borrowing and idea from Caramel Mocha yesterday, I pulled my stockings open at the top, to fill my stockings up with as much porridge as possible. When the 10 seconds countdown started I bent my knees and slid back down to submerge myself under the porridge one last time.
There was a huge cheer as the time up was given. It took 2 handlers to steady me, and stop me slipping over in my heels. I looked up and down the line and exchanged glances with Twisted Genius. It looked pretty clear we’d be the top 2. Fourth Angel had merely waded around with her head above the porridge. Pretty N Pink had put some handfuls over her head, but hadn’t placed her head under it. Rebecca came over to weigh me again, and give the results to Michael.

“Here are the result of the breakfast challenge” announced Michael. “In fourth place with 1820 grams is Fourth Angel. In third place with 1985 grams is Pretty N Pink, and in Second place with 3460 grams is Twisted Genius. That makes the winner with an impressive 4725 grams is Nurse Bianca.
Rebecca came over to lead me to the back of the room. It took me and Twisted Genius notably longer to reach it as quite a lot of people in the crowd wanted to both congratulate us and introduce themselves. As we got over one of the other handlers came up to meet Rebecca.
“They’re complaining about stripping to their underwear” she said. “Apparently they didn’t read the disclaimer, or listen when I specifically warned them to be prepared for this.”
“It’s why I’m wearing a vest” chimed in Twisted Genius.
I had also considered this and opted for smart but modest underwear. Considering my uniform and stockings were currently filled with porridge removing them wasn’t something I had a huge problem with once I was through the barrier put out to show the area for my one on one. My area currently just had a tall narrow chair in it. Sat in it I saw 4 trolleys of mess wheeled past. One had numerous tins of black treacle and a bucket filled with feathers, one had a load of eggs, flour and shaving foam on it. The next that I saw taken to Twisted Genius’s area had several jugs of savoury foods like baked beans, mushy peas, gravy and chopped tomatoes. I smiled when mine was brought over, it contains several jugs and bowls of desert items, and a number of especially made pies.
“You look like your looking forward to this” observed Rebecca.
I nodded in agreement.
“The person who’ll be getting you should be over in a second. I just need to put these on you. You should keep them on until your told otherwise” she said.
She took a pair of swimming goggle out of her pocket, and after giving my face a quick wipe slipped them on over my eyes. It was then I discovered the lens of the goggles had been painted over, in effect leaving me blindfolded.

Chapter 8:

I waited blindfolded in my seat, nervously for an unknown amount of time. I could hear the conversation of others, and the occasional moan and shriek from my fellow slaves. Then I heard footsteps coming towards me. As my breathing deepened in anticipation I held my hands in my lap, in order to resist the temptation of lift off my goggles for a peak. I felt an affectionate hand stroking my shoulder, that slowly worked it’s way down my arm and took a grip of my wrist. I felt my other wrist taken as well, and both hands positioned behind my back. I willingly held them there as I felt the touch of cold metal on my wrists, followed by the exciting sound of handcuffs clicking into place. I felt an eager wave of excitement as I became at the mercy of this mystery man.
I waited in anticipation. I felt a hand placed on my shoulder, a teasing touch of a soft cool substance on my chin. I eagerly reached out with my tongue and licked a beautiful tasting mouthful of cream. I then felt the cream slowly being tilted up, rising up the surface of my face, until it was completely engulfed in cream. After several enjoyable seconds I felt the cream being taken away again, leaving a cool layer on my face. I then felt a handful of cream being tenderly rubbed over my right cheek and then my left, followed by a hand gently stroking my hair. I then felt a finger tenderly caress my lips as it placed a small piece of pastry in my mouth which I eagerly devoured.
Next I felt a hand on my chin slowly tilt my face up. I took a few deep breaths in anticipation, then felt a warm thick liquid being poured over my head. It started at the centre, causing the liquid to cascade down through my hair on either side of my face. I then feel the liquid moving forwards, until it’s near the front of my head and starts to slowly cascade down my face. As it reaches my lips I could taste a heavenly chocolate sensation. My face was soon engulfed, and I felt the chocolate drip off my face down onto my breasts. My breathing quickened and my nipples hardened as the chocolate seeped into my bra, and my breasts became totally covered in the chocolate flavoured liquid. As I felt the stream continue to be poured over me it continued to drip down my body. I felt it slowly drip down, coating my stomach, and finally settling as a warm and gooey pile in my lap. As the pouring stopped I felt a familiar tender hand on my cheek, that slowly caressed the chocolate over my face and hair. I then felt the hand continuing down my body, massaging my neck, a quick teasing stroke of my breasts, and more chocolate being rubbed into my stomach. I then felt both hands being used to deposit chocolate on my legs, and massage them until my legs were coated in chocolate.

There was then a brief pause, allowing my to regain a little of my composure. I played with the handcuffs, secretly glad they were there to enforce the self control I was struggling to hold on to. Soon I felt those fingers again, slowly smearing something on my lips. I nervously licked it off and recognised the taste of banana custard. I felt a hand rest on the left side of my face, then my face was suddenly engulfed as a custard and pastry pie was firmly pushed in my face. I pulled on my handcuffs as I felt a wave of pleasure, and slowly tilted my head back as I felt his hand slowly sliding the crumbly pastry down my face, and eagerly accepted as several pieces were slid into my mouth. I quickly felt another pie strike me in the chest, and then felt my body being leaned forward so a pie could be placed on my back. I then felt a pair of hands slowly massaging the thick custard and crumbly pastry across my back. I gave out some quiet involuntary moans of pleasure. He responded by placing a hand on my shoulder to keep my leaning forward. I then felt another thick liquid being slowly being over my back. I involuntarily struggled in my handcuffs as I was hit by the sensation. I then felt a hand on each hip, that slowly massaged the thick and gooey liquid over them. I continued to moan, loader and with more frequency as the hands worked their way up my spine, firmly massaged my shoulders, and finally found their way to a sweet spot of mine between the shoulder blades. I felt the intensity of the pleasure I felt grow until I tilted my head back and let out a loud involuntary moan I was taken over by a huge wave of pleasure that passed through my body.

I leant back, taking in the pleasure, and letting my breathing and heartbeat return to normal. I could still here the murmur of the crowd, and feel the sensation of the many substances now clinging onto my skin. I tensed a little as I heard the footsteps approaching again. I felt him gently lower himself onto my lap, and could hear his own measured breathing inches in front of my face. I felt a hand on the side of my face, slowly tease it’s way down my body, stopping at my breasts to stroke them in a circular motion, before stroking down my side, before descending to where I felt a firm grip off my bottom as the hand teasingly slid away. I then felt his fingers on my chin again, lightly tilting my head back again. I smiled in anticipation, waiting for what was next. I felt a sticky but runny substance flow down my forehead and over my cheeks. I tasted a little with my tongue and recognised the taste of sweet runny honey. I sat there for the next minute enjoying the sensation of layer after layer of honey dripped down my face. After the drizzle stopped I felt some fingers wipe across my lips, and a quick affectionate warm kiss placed on them. I leant back shaking my head as I felt a guilty wave of pleasure as the man raised up off my lap, and I heard him slowly walking away.

I don’t know how much time I was left handcuffed, blindfolded and covered in mess. I was more than happy in my own little world. I eventually heard the sound of a woman in heels walking towards me. I was a little surprised when I recognised Sam’s voice.
“You look like you had fun” she said.
I blushed and smiled, unable to give more of an answer.
“Looked almost as good as a particularly good session I had yesterday” she said.
She came over and lifted my goggles up. I blinked as my eyes readjusted to the light. As Sam unlocked my handcuffs I found myself cringing a little. Taken in as I was I’d forgotten that fact their were people watching. Thankfully most of them had dispersed at this point. Looking round I saw the other 3 new slaves had already gone. In the centre of the room I saw a crowd. In which an inwards looking circle had formed of small groups standing around a person kneeling in a kids paddling pool. I saw a man dressed as a chef going round talking to each group, and instructing the people in it to pour or rub stuff over the person kneeling down.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s cookery class” Sam said. “They make different recipes with a human as the central ingredient.” She offered her hand to help me stand up.
“Would you be able to do us a big favour?” asked Sam. “There’s been a bit of a last minute hitch, and we’ve had to squeeze some of your activities close together. If we provide you with a robe to wear could you quickly shower using the ones in the gym across the hall so I can take you there?”
“I guess so” I said. A little surprised by the request.
“Thanks a lot” she said. “I’ll make it up to you this afternoon with something nice I promise.”

This story is purely a work of fiction. The story does NOT describe real events and the characters are fictional. Any resemblance to real events or persons is coincidence. In keeping with its fictional nature, the events and activities described in the story may not be legal, ethical or safe. This site does NOT endorse or recommend their enactment.

Chapter 11

A gentle rain pattered on the windows, the water running down the glass in twisting rivulets, partially obscuring and distorting the view outside.  Alex was getting dressed, watching as Ginger slept peacefully, her hair strewn on the pillow in long, random strands.  The sound of a soft knock came from the door.

Alex opened the door, and the maid smiled at her, holding the breakfast tray.  Alex mouthed the words, “Thank you,” as the maid entered the room and gently placed the tray on the table.

The maid whispered, “Did you hear what happened last night?”  Alex shook her head.  The maid briefly told her about the messy ending to the evening, with Kate and Natalie sprawled on the sweets table, covered head-to-toe in chocolate.  The two women chuckled softly.  The maid left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Alex reached for a glass of orange juice, when her eyes fell upon a creamy white envelope resting on the tray’s corner.  She immediately recognized the long flowing writing on the envelope as the Duchess’.  She picked it up curiously, before setting it back down.  She heard Ginger stir from her sleep, and she went over to sit on the edge of the bed next to her.

“Good morning,” said Alex, looking at Ginger’s sleepy eyes.  Ginger stifled a yawn as she pushed her reddish-brown tresses to one side.

“Morning,” replied Ginger.  The two chatted amiably, enjoying the slow pace of the morning routine.

Ginger got up to get her breakfast, when Alex said, “You have a letter from Kate.”

“Ahhh,” said Ginger.  She pointedly ignored the letter, and instead reached for a blueberry muffin.

“Aren’t you gonna read it?”

“No, not right now.”  Ginger nibbled at her breakfast quietly, but her mind was beginning to race frantically.  She felt concern over what the note would say.  The Duchess’ kiss, the strange words she had whispered in Ginger’s ear the night before, and the fear that she would very likely be told to leave the manor without Alex, combined to form an unsettling feeling of dread in Ginger’s stomach.

The memory of Kate’s lips against her cheek went through her mind.  Ginger looked up at Alex, and said, “I’m sorry I let her kiss me.  I didn’t know she was going to do that.”

Alex looked at Ginger for a moment, then nodded her head.  “Don’t worry about it.  It’s not your fault.”  Alex exhaled sharply.  “She’s a spoiled brat, used to getting anything she wants.”  Despite her calm reply, Ginger sensed Alex’s increasing frustration with Kate’s behavior.

Alex laughed to herself and said, “Apparently, some woman caused an incident last night, and the Duchess got mixed up in it.”  She told Ginger what the maid had just told her, and both girls burst out laughing.

Alex looked at the clock and said, “I have to go.”

Ginger smiled and said, “OK, I’ll see you tonight.”

As Alex kissed Ginger’s soft lips, the dark-haired girl wondered if her friend would be waiting for her or not at the end of the day.

——————–

After Alex left the room, Ginger hesitantly picked up the envelope, and opened it.

“Dear Ginger,

I would like to see you this afternoon to discuss matters.  Please come to my chambers on the fourth floor at 4:00 PM.

Duchess Katherine”

Ginger sighed.  “What does she want now?” she mused, as she placed the letter onto the bed stand.  She thought it over, and a chill went through her spine.  Ginger realized that she would be alone with the Duchess for the first time since she arrived at the estate.  A feeling of apprehension went through her mind, and she longed to have Alex’s reassuring presence with her at that moment.  “It’s just as well that she doesn’t know about this,” she thought.  The warm light from the chandelier failed to calm her spirits as the rain continued to run down the windows.

——————–

Natalie’s eyes flickered over the display on her tablet.  “Damn,” she muttered.  “When was the last time the emergency generators were inspected?”

“A month ago, per the schedule,” replied Alex.

“I hate the electrical wiring in these old buildings.  One surge and it all goes to hell, and now a thunderstorm.  Great.”  Natalie grumbled as her eyes returned to the tablet, showing a radar display from the Internet of the storm that was approaching the surrounding area.  She sighed, put the tablet down, and massaged her eyes with her hands.  “Have a test run done immediately.  We’ve got about twelve hours before the worst of it arrives.”

——————–

At the requested time, Ginger approached the large oak double doors of the Duchess’ chambers.  She hesitated, then knocked.

With a dramatic flourish, the Duchess opened the doors.

“My dear, I’m so glad you came!  Come in, come in.”

Kate stood in the doorway, wearing a soft pink corset, embroidered with flowing floral patterns.  A sweetheart outline formed the bodice, the rounded tops caressing her breasts, and below it, a matching pink thong panty.  Light nude lace-topped stockings hugged her legs, held tightly by garter straps attached to the corset, and a pair of small, silver strappy heels adorned her feet.  She wore a necklace of pink diamonds, dangling provocatively above her generous breasts and cleavage, and her lips glistened seductively with glossy, light pink lipstick.  Her blond hair was loose as it shimmered in the warm light.

The Duchess escorted Ginger into the sumptuously decorated sitting room.  Ginger gazed in wonder around her, noticing the softly painted Impressionist works on the walls.  A roaring fire crackled in the fireplace, and the chandeliers and lamps glowed soothingly, making the room a haven from the increasingly fierce rain storm outside.

Kate took Ginger’s arm, and serenely led her to the bedroom doorway.  A familiar pile of pink clothing lay on the bed.  “I think you would look ravishing tonight, my dear, as a bunny.  I’ll let you get dressed.  Don’t keep me waiting.”  The Duchess gently pushed Ginger into the bedroom, and closed the door to allow her some privacy.

Ginger sighed, and shook her head in amazement.  She walked to the bed and picked up the soft pink outfit, holding it out in front of her.  “Here we go again,” she muttered.

——————–

The door to the Duchess’ bedroom opened, and Kate drank in the lovely vision of Ginger, attired from head-to-toe in the pink bunny girl outfit, which hugged her body tightly.  Her toned, gorgeous legs shimmered in the light with a doubled pair of black Wolford Neon 40 pantyhose, her feet resting delicately in black pumps.  Her bunny ears were perched on her head, and the white cuffs, bunny-logo cuff links, white collar choker, black bow tie and hip ribbon with her name completed the ensemble.

“Mmmm, you look gorgeous, my dear,” Kate purred.  She was sitting on a love seat, her legs crossed, holding a glass of champagne.  “Please, sit down.”  Kate patted the empty seat cushion next to her.  Ginger walked over, while Kate’s eyes scrutinized her closely, admiring her long legs and the alluring sway of her hips.  Ginger sat down, allowing Kate a quick glimpse of her white puffy bunny tail.

Kate passed her a fresh glass of champagne.  She lifted her glass in a toast, and said, “To achieving one’s dreams.”  She clinked her glass against Ginger’s.

Ginger sipped at her champagne nervously.

“Oh, I almost forgot.”  The Duchess reached to her side, and held a burnished silver platter in front of Ginger.  Upon the glittering tray rested a pile of dome-shaped desserts, coated in either dark or white chocolate, and each one capped with a soft-pink circular garnish of frosting.  “Cappezoli di Venere.”  She took a dark chocolate-covered one, and offered it to Ginger.  “Nipples of Venus.  They taste lovely.  Almost as good as the real thing,” said Kate, as she giggled.

“Thank you,” Ginger said, and ate the treat.  She tasted an intoxicating mixture of chestnuts, dark chocolate, and brandied sugar, and her eyes closed briefly in pleasure.  She greedily reached for another.  “May I?” she asked, her hand hovering above the tray.

“Oh, please, my dear, help yourself.  These are my favorite treats.  I’m so glad you like them.”

Ginger ate another, reveling in the taste of the decadent white chocolate candy, and sipped from her champagne.  She felt a warm feeling spread through her body, and the heat from the fire across the room, along with the rain pattering on the glass, allowed her to relax.  “Just one more,” she thought, and the Duchess beamed as Ginger quickly devoured yet another.

The Duchess reached to her side again, and brought out a small book.  Ginger’s eyes widened, and the Duchess said, “Yes, my dear, your diary.  I must say, I’ve enjoyed reading it over the past few days.  How do you think I knew that you would like a bit of messy bondage, or that the thought of immersing your sweet little body in a tub of chocolate makes you weak in the knees?  You can imagine my surprise, as I read it, to learn that I’m not the only one who likes a bit of messy fun.”

“What about…Natalie?” asked Ginger.  Her mind felt fuzzy, and she had to think carefully about White’s real name.

“Mmmm, yes, Natalie.  Until last night’s party, she had never gotten messy before.  I don’t know when she’ll ever be ready to do that again.  And why should I wait, when I’ve got you here, my sweet?  Just think of all the fun that we could have!  I can make any of your messy desires come true.  We’ve only scratched the surface of what you’ve written in this book.  Just think, you and I can be covered in mud, or frosting, sticky marshmallow fluff, even whipped cream, pie each other’s pussies, anything you’d like to do.”  Kate paused, her light gray eyes roaming over the sensuous curves of the scrumptious bunny girl next to her.  “Have you ever been fucked, Ginger?  Covered head to toe in warm, melted fudge, and fucked so hard that you’re screaming?”

Ginger shook her head, her eyes wide at the thought.

“Well, I can do that for you.  Mmmm, the thought of fucking you doggy-style, that sweet ass of yours up in the air, your soft skin completely covered in fudge, watching that big, fat cock slide in and out of your tight pussy.  Think about how good that would feel.  And after your toes curl and you’ve screamed and came, I promise, I’ll lick every drop of your sweet pussy juice out of your cunt.  As many times as you want, we can do that.”

Ginger felt her heart beat faster, and a flush ran through her body.

“Mmmmm, yes, nylon, too.  You love a pair of pantyhose on your legs, don’t you?”

Ginger nodded dreamily, and a faint moan escaped from her lips.

“I know you do.  I love the feeling of nylon, too.  It feels so good, pressing up against my legs, and when it rubs up against my pussy.  Don’t you love it when you open up a new pair, hearing the package crinkle, and then you can smell that wonderful scent…mmmm…of brand new pantyhose?  I bet when you put these Wolfords on for me, you loved the smell.  Didn’t you?” Kate purred.

Ginger nodded again.  The Duchess was right.

“That’s right, darling.  You’re a pantyhose slut.  No, even better.”  The Duchess’ eyes widened, and she laughed gleefully.  “A messy little pantyhose slut, aren’t you?” Kate cooed softly.  She leaned forward, and kissed Ginger’s cheek.  She whispered into her ear, “Go on, admit it.  A messy little pantyhose slut.  Just say those words.”  Kate kissed her again on the cheek, and the scent of the seductress’ perfume washed over Ginger.

Ginger shook her head.  “No,” she whispered.

“Ginger d’Argento.  My messy little pantyhose slut.  Mmmmm, that feels so good just to say it.  Come on, sweetie.  Just think.  Pantyhose. Soft, sexy pantyhose.  Caressing those gorgeous legs and that sweet little pussy.  And a cute little cream pie right in your face…,”  the Duchess whispered softly.  She reached over and pressed her hand against Ginger’s cheek, and moved Ginger’s head gently to face her.

Ginger’s beautiful blue eyes looked back at her, her lower lip trembling nervously.

“Say it.” Kate commanded in a firm tone.

Ginger hesitated for a moment, until the words that the Duchess longed to hear issued from her lips.  “I’m a…a…p-p-pantyhose slut…a messy little pantyhose slut…”  Ginger gasped the words out, not even daring to blink, as the light gray eyes of the Duchess looked back at her.

The Duchess purred in delight.  “Mmmmm,  very good, my sweet.  Don’t you just love those words?  ‘Messy little pantyhose slut.'”  The last word dripped from the Duchess’ mouth, hanging in the air, her tongue emphasizing the final letter “t” in a whispered tone of disapproval. “Say it again.”

The words spun around Ginger’s head in an endless circle.  Faster and faster they whirled around, until the only way she could stop the frenetic tarantella was to finally admit…

“I’m a messy little pantyhose slut!”  Ginger blurted out, the words falling into an exhausted heap in her mind.  She was breathing heavily, and the Duchess smiled at her.

“Yes, you are, my dear.  And only I can make your slutty messy pantyhose dreams come true.  Only me.”

Ginger felt a hand on her leg, and she looked down to see the Duchess softly stroking her upper thigh, her delicate fingers rubbing the black doubled-nylon that hugged her leg.  The Duchess continued to slide her hand up and down, then softly traced her fingers around Ginger’s mound, before running them back to the edge of her bunny costume.  She pressed her fingers down, slipped them underneath the crotch of the pink fabric, and burrowed them against the layered nylon above Ginger’s pussy lips.  Ginger groaned as she felt Kate’s fingers press firmly up against her moist slit, feeling the nylon slightly penetrate her pussy.  Her juice flowed out and soaked into the crotch of her expensive, sexy hosiery.  Kate rhythmically pressed her fingers deeper into Ginger’s cunt, until a low throaty groan emanated from Ginger’s lips, her bunny ears bobbing around as her head arched back, her eyes partially closed.  Kate slid her fingers free, then slowly trailed them back down Ginger’s thigh, to rest on Ginger’s knee.

Kate smiled, and pressed her body forward.  Their lips met in a kiss, and Ginger tasted the sweet bubblegum flavor of Kate’s lipstick.  Kate’s slow, teasing kisses became more firm.  Ginger’s lips slipped open, and the two began to French kiss.  Their tongues snaked out and mingled together as Kate pressed her body closer to the sexy bunny girl quivering next to her.  Their breasts pressed against each other, and Kate began to rub her stocking-covered leg against Ginger’s leg.  The hiss of nylon accompanied the soft sounds of kisses and the occasional moan from Ginger.

Slowly, the Duchess broke the kiss.  She reached for Ginger’s champagne glass, and refilled it.  As Ginger took another drink, Kate reached for a white-chocolate covered treat, and brought it close to Ginger’s lips.  Ginger opened her mouth, and slowly sucked at the boob-shaped candy.  Her tongue snaked out, and as Kate released her hold, Ginger felt the treat slip into her mouth.  The Duchess held her face possessively, her fingers and thumb pressing into both cheeks, as the two kissed again, the treat roiling between their probing tongues.  With a soft shlurp, Kate broke the kiss and released her hand.  She took a graceful sip of her champagne, while Ginger woozily ate the candy.

Ginger felt her mind whirling, and the feeling of warmth in her body was spreading and growing.  She felt her pussy, pressed up against two layers of nylon as the fabric of her gusset squeezed tightly against her labia, begin to ooze juice.  She moaned softly, and spread her legs slightly, bringing her free hand down to massage her pussy.  The Duchess moved her hand to rest on top of Ginger’s mound, and the two women began to simultaneously rub at Ginger’s pantyhose-covered mound and lips.

“Just a little pantyhose slut,” the Duchess cooed, and Ginger squirmed and whimpered.  “I know I can make you happy, my dear.  But, can you make me happy?”

Quietly, Ginger nodded her her head.

“Good, very good,” murmured Kate.

Ginger emitted a sharp gasp of pleasure, as the nylon rubbed against her tender clit.  Her eyes briefly closed as she savored the sensation, and she dug her fingers in deeper, trying to extract every ounce of stimulation from the precious hosiery.  She crossed her legs, firmly wedging her wriggling hand in between them.

Kate laughed.  “My, my.  You certainly are a little pantyhose slut.”  She held onto Ginger’s hand, and pulled it away from her enflamed crotch.  Ginger whimpered in protest, did not resist.  Her breathing gradually returned to normal as the tingles subsided, leaving only the aching emptiness of desperately craving to come, to feel that delicious, addictive sensation spreading from her pussy to fill her entire body, her tangy juice dripping from between her swollen pussy lips, annointing the black Wolfords with a shiny, dewy coating, creating the perfect treat for a female tongue to flick out from between two perfect, glossy pink lips and tenderly lick the love honey up, that tongue dragging across the nylon, pressing tighter against her sensitive labia, to slide across her tender clit, eliciting another series of gasps as her body bucked in orgasmic ecstasy above Kate’s tongue.

That flurry of thoughts slammed into Ginger’s mind with a ferocity she had never felt.  “No, Kate?  I want it to be Alex,” she thought, but the image of Kate mercilessly driving her to another nylon-induced orgasm remained firmly in place.  Alex was nowhere to be seen, and what little resistance Ginger had toward Kate soon fell apart.

Kate offered Ginger another brandied-sugar treat, and after her prey had eagerly eaten it, she followed it up with a freshly filled glass of champagne.  After Ginger had tipsily drained the glass, the Duchess guided her to a kneeling position on the floor in front of her.  “I’m your goddess, Ginger,” she said gently.  “Worship me, dear.  Make me happy, my messy little pantyhose slut.”  The Duchess spread her arms wide and rested them on top of the loveseat.  She crossed her legs, and wiggled her foot.  She looked down at the glorious vision of Ginger kneeling before her, the obedient bunny-girl, and smiled wickedly.  “Make me happy.”

Ginger brought her hands forward, and began to caress the ankle and calf of Kate’s crossed leg.  She felt the smooth nylon beneath her fingers as they ran up and down the front and back of the calf, the tan stockings shimmering in the firelight.  Her hands glided down to the silver heel that held the royal woman’s delicate foot.  Ginger bent her head forward, and placed a kiss on the nylon-wrapped toes, her tongue darting out to smother them in a flurry of wet kisses.  The feeling of the nylon against her lips and tongue was heavenly, the flavor mingling with the aftertaste of the champagne and brandy-flavored treats.  Ginger slowly unstrapped the silver heel and carefully placed it on the floor.  The crackling of the fire and the rain on the windows, along with an occasional rumble of thunder in the distance, were the only sounds in the room.

Ginger lifted Kate’s stocking-covered foot and began to eagerly kiss and suck at her toes.  Her tongue slathered the nylon-covered tootsies in a flurry of kisses, alternating with noisy sucking sounds as she hungrily tasted the warm flesh and nylon in her mouth.  Kate groaned, tilting her head back slightly, her eyes closed in pleasure.

Ginger carefully released the Duchess’ foot, and Kate quickly re-crossed her legs.  The same loving attention was paid to her other leg and foot, while Kate sipped at her champagne or occasionally enjoyed a Nipple of Venus.  She delighted in the loving treatment being given to her feet, and also at having a member of the troublesome d’Argento family kneeling on the floor, subserviently attending to her erotic desires.  She smiled in triumphant pleasure as Ginger finished her ministrations to her other foot, before gently releasing it.  Ginger looked up at Kate, patiently awaiting her instructions.

Kate uncrossed her legs and spread them apart, while carefully balancing the balls of her feet upon the floor to keep them delicately arched, in addition to tightening and accenting her legs.  The pink thong hid her leaking pussy from view, and Kate ached to plunge her fingers into her slit.  “Patience,” she thought to herself.

“Continue,” she said huskily to Ginger.

Ginger bowed her head slightly, her eyes downcast.  She began to massage the Duchess’ legs simultaneously, rubbing her hands up and down the royal calves, slowly bringing her hands up to her knees, then running them along the top and inner sides of Kate’s thighs.  She slipped her fingers underneath the tight stocking tops, and dug her fingertips into Kate’s warm, soft flesh, before slipping them free.  She slowly kissed Kate’s left knee, then placed a kiss on her right knee.  Ginger trailed a string of kisses along Kate’s inner right thigh, her cute bunny ears bobbing in rhythm to her ministrations.

Ginger raised her face for a moment, and Kate took the opportunity to change her position.  She lifted her legs high into the air, and spread them apart in a “V” shape.  The front of her pink thong barely covered her dripping wet treasure.  Kate removed her hands from the love seat, and grasped the back of her thighs from below, her glossy fingernails digging into the nylon stockings on her upper thighs, helping to keep her long legs spread wide open.

“Lick my pussy, you little slut.”

Ginger dove forward, and pulled aside the thin fabric of Kate’s panty.  Her pussy lips were exposed, a trickle of milky white cunt juice dribbling out.  As her nose bumped up against Kate’s mound, decorated with a thin strip of blond pubic hair, Ginger’s tongue began to probe deep inside the Duchess’ royal treasure.  Kate continued to spread her legs wide, and she bit her lower lip as Ginger’s tongue snaked deeper into her cunt.

“Ohhh, God, you fucking little bitch,” she growled.  She looked down at the sight of Ginger’s nose pressing against her mound, the tips of her pink bunny ears brushing against the fabric of her own pink corset.

A twist, a wriggle, and as Ginger’s tongue slid along her clit, Kate felt her pussy spasm.  She screamed in ecstasy as her fingernails dug into her tensing thighs.  Pussy juice gushed forth to spatter Ginger’s lips and mouth with their warm taste.  Ginger continued to eagerly lap between the swollen pussy lips, her tongue persistently brushing up against the royal, sensitive clit, and in short order, a second orgasm raced through Kate’s body.  Her legs quivered, her toes curled, and she arched her head back in dizzying elation as a fresh stream of juice dribbled from her pussy.  Ginger diligently licked it all up, not allowing a single drop to land on the loveseat cushion.  Her task completed, she raised her face free of Kate’s pussy, the sheen of her wet lips and chin obvious in the firelight.  Kate released her hold on her legs and slowly lowered them down.  Ginger remained on her knees between Kate’s legs, looking down at the floor.

Kate bent forward, and grabbed Ginger’s face with one hand.  She pulled the little pussy licker’s face toward her, and began to kiss her.  The taste of bubblegum now mingled with warm pussy juice, and Ginger moaned and whimpered as Kate continued to forcefully kiss her.  As their lips parted, Kate whispered, “Who am I?”

“You’re my goddess, my lady,” Ginger replied obediently.

Kate smiled again, and said, “Very good.  You know how to please me.  Stay here, my sweet.”

The Duchess swung her legs around Ginger, and stood up.  She adjusted her corset and brushed a few stray strands of her blond hair out of her eyes, feeling the lustful eyes of Ginger upon her.  She walked out of the room through a doorway across from her bedroom.

Ginger remained kneeling on the floor, feeling the back of her heels digging into her butt cheeks.  She squeezed her thighs together, her pussy aching for attention, as her juice continued to seep into both nylon gussets.  She hungrily eyed the sweets tray, and quickly, before Kate returned, reached out and grabbed another.  She wolfed it down, and her eyes closed briefly as the brandy flavor ran through her mouth.  The heat from the fire, and the champagne she had drank, was making her light-headed and drowsy.  A single sentence, “Please come back, please come back,” continued to run through her mind, as she waited for her blond, pink corset-clad goddess to return.

The Duchess reappeared a few minutes later, carrying a silver tray with both hands.  She placed it on the table beside the loveseat.  It contained two glass bowls, filled to the brim with pink frosting and melted chocolate.  A smaller porcelain bowl filled with multicolored sprinkles rested on the tray, next to a silver box that Ginger recognized as identical to the one two nights ago.  Kate noticed Ginger watching her closely, and her finger ran along the edge of the silver box.

“Ooooh, you know what’s inside this, don’t you, dear?”

Ginger nodded her head quietly.

The Duchess returned to her sitting position on the loveseat, her legs spread on either side of Ginger.  A small damp patch was visible on her panty, darkening the pink fabric.  She reached across and picked up the silver box, held it before Ginger, then slowly opened the lid.  Surrounded by red felt, a single pink jelly dildo lay inside the box, with a realistic rounded head on top and veins along the side, just as big and fat as the one that Ginger had thrust up into her pussy that evening.  Ginger whimpered, remembering the feeling as she had orgasmed multiple times, thrusting the flexible dildo up her tight cunt.  Kate removed the dildo, placing the silver box back onto the tray.  She lovingly ran her finger down the side of the phallus, tracing the veiny patterns, hearing the faint rustle of nylon as Ginger continued to squirm her thighs together.  The sound of thunder, closer than before, broke her reverie, and she brought the dildo’s head close to Ginger’s face.

“Kiss it,” she ordered.

The bunny girl bent her head forward, and placed a loving kiss on the head.  “Again,” Kate taunted.  Ginger kissed it again, and without being told, started to run her tongue along the length of the dick, starting at the bottom, and ending at the head.  Her pink tongue left a trail of glistening saliva in its wake.  After a few slow licks, she bent her head further forward, opened her mouth, and swallowed as much of the thick dildo as she could, pressing her face forward onto it.  She coughed, but kept the dick in her mouth, and with her eyes, looked up at Kate.

Kate basked in the sight of Ginger, kneeling at her feet, looking so very cute and adorable as a bunny girl, with a cock stuffed up her mouth.  Ginger coughed and gurgled.  Saliva began to dribble from the corner of her mouth.  Kate slowly eased the dick free, and with an audible wet shlurp, it emerged, wiggling slightly, coated in saliva and a faint trace of Ginger’s lipstick.

Kate reached with her free hand and ran it through Ginger’s long auburn hair, starting at the top of her head, then along the side of her face, and finally to the tips that rested on the soft white flesh of her breasts.  Kate’s hand continued to slide along the curve of Ginger’s breast to dip into her cleavage, then proceeded to feel the curve of the other ripe boob.  She gave it a gentle squeeze, and as she lifted her hand away, she watched the outline of her fingers slowly fade away, leaving no mark, as Ginger’s chest gently rose and fell in time with her breathing.

Kate smiled and reached for the glass bowl of pink frosting.  She placed it between her legs, the cool glass pressing against her hot pussy and the bare flesh of her upper thighs.  The creamy pink frosting was a small treasure nestled between her legs, and she dipped the head of the dildo into the goo.  She swirled it around, building up a thick, delicious coating, then slowly pulled it free.  Ginger groaned and trembled as she eagerly watched the frosting-covered dick move closer to her lips.  She opened her mouth, and tasted the creamy frosting first, as the head of the cock was pushed up into her wet mouth.  Her lips pressed tightly up against the crown, which were pushed aside into a wider “O” shape as the flared cock head slid past, followed by the veined shaft.  Blobs of frosting coated Ginger’s lips as Kate began to push and pull the cock back-and-forth, her hand wrapped firmly around the lower portion.  She purred in delight as the jelly dildo slid in and out of Ginger’s mouth, hearing shlurps and gurgles accompanied by an occasional muffled moan.  Ginger’s head bobbed back and forth gently in time with the Duchess’s thrusts, and her bunny ears wiggled in the firelight.

“That’s right,” cooed Kate.  “Such a good little cocksucker.  Natalie told me about how you did such a good job the first time, and now I get to see it for myself.”

The taste of the creamy frosting was heavenly on Ginger’s tongue, and she sucked vigorously as the cock was pulled from her mouth.  POP!!  The dick broke free, and Ginger coughed slightly as she shlurped back the frosting and saliva that filled her mouth.

“Wonderful, my dear.  I think you deserve a little reward,” purred Kate.  She removed a Nipple of Venus from the tray, and as the slutty cocksucker opened her mouth, she gently placed it on her tongue.  Ginger closed her mouth and began to chew on the treat, which was followed with a generous helping of champagne.  Kate tilted the glass down, letting the fizzing liquid fill Ginger’s mouth before it ran down her throat, until the glass was completely drained.  Ginger coughed slightly as the empty glass was pulled away, and she felt her body wobble unsteadily.

Ginger licked her lips free of the frosting, her eyes tracking the Duchess as she dipped the dildo into the pink goo between her thighs, deeper into the bowl then before.  She pulled it out slowly, the dildo coated with frosting more than halfway along the shaft and head.  A fresh round of face-fucking ensued.  The thrusts were deeper and quicker, and Ginger’s face rocked back and forth, as wet, shlurping noises were clearly audible.  She grunted, and felt the head of the dildo press against the back of her throat, and she coughed.  Her mouth was filled with a wet mixture of saliva and frosting, as the cock continued to stretch her lips apart, the veined monster sliding back and forth across her tongue.  She reached forward with her hands, and grasped the back of Kate’s toned calves, her fingers pressed up against the back of her knees as leverage.

“Mmmmph….” she moaned, as the wet squelches continued across her lips.

The cock popped free, and Ginger gasped.  Kate grabbed her cheeks again with one hand, and as Ginger rose up slightly, the Duchess bent forward to kiss her on the lips.  Their tongues intertwined as Kate tasted the pink frosting while listening to Ginger’s subservient whimpers.

She released her grip, and Ginger sank back down to a kneeling position.  Ginger closed her eyes, and while still holding onto Kate’s legs, rested her cheek against the top of her lower thigh, just above the knee.  Kate played with Ginger’s hair, enjoying the feeling of her soft flesh pressed up against her own leg, and allowed her to rest for a moment.  She softly stroked the girl’s cheek, running it up and down the side of her face.

Kate placed the bowl of frosting back onto the silver tray.  “Up, my dear,” she said, and Ginger slowly got to her feet.  Her legs were sore and tight from kneeling for such a long time, and she wavered slightly in her heels.  The Duchess moved to the side of the loveseat, and helpfully guided Ginger down to sit next to her.  Kate reached over to the silver tray, and brought the glass bowl of melted chocolate to rest between her legs.  She took the porcelain bowl filled with multicolored sprinkles and held it with her left hand.  Kate dipped the dildo into the melted chocolate, then touched the tip of the cock onto the sprinkles, rolling it around a few times to coat the engorged tip with a layer of the small treats.  She held the cock up in the air, between herself and Ginger, and sidled her body closer.  Their shoulders bumped, their nylon-covered legs touched, and their hips were squished against each other.  Ginger turned to her side, and watched as the Duchess licked along one side of the dildo, from the bottom to the very top.

“Mmmmm,” Kate murmured, tasting the rich chocolate on her tongue.  She looked into Ginger’s eyes, and beckoned her to join in licking the jelly dildo like an obscene lollipop.  Ginger bent her head forward, and the two women were soon simultaneously licking and sucking the cock free of the chocolate.  As Ginger brought her lips to the top of the dick, she bent her head down and engulfed the crown with her mouth, swirling her tongue around as she licked the sprinkles and chocolate off.

The Duchess cooed appreciatively.  “Good, very good,” she said.  The dildo was dipped into the chocolate and sprinkles, and the freshly coated dildo was quickly cleaned with their pink tongues, darting out from between their sugary lips.  Ginger laughed, and licked her lips clean of faint traces of chocolate.

Kate lowered the dildo, and Ginger leaned her face closer to give the Duchess a giggling kiss on the cheek.  As she continued to place small kisses on her cheek, Kate placed the bowls and the dildo back on the tray.  She brought her right hand to Ginger’s crotch, and dug two of her fingers into the pink fabric that covered her leaking pussy.  Ginger’s giggles turned into a sharp gasp, followed by a whimper of desire.  Ginger pressed her thighs together, trying to wedge the Duchess’s probing fingers deeper into her cunt.  She squirmed her legs up and down a bit, the delicious feeling of her nylon-covered skin flooding her senses.

“Would my messy little pantyhose slut like to come?” Kate whispered.

“Yes…yes, please.”  Ginger moaned, and kissed Kate again on the cheek, her body trembling.

“Mmmm, since you’ve made me so happy tonight, I think I can do that.”  Kate stood up and helped Ginger to her feet.  She led her to a nearby cushioned chair and instructed her to sit down.  She then arranged Ginger so that her legs were spread wide, with the back of her knees resting on the arm rests.  Her high-heeled feet dangled in the air as she wiggled them nervously around and around in little circles.  The Duchess reached down, placing her hand on Ginger’s crotch, and searched for the pair of small metal buttons that held the crotch of the fabric fastened together.  With a pair of metallic pings, the fabric was unsnapped, and Kate pulled up on the now loose pink material, exposing the gusset of Ginger’s doubled-nylon pantyhose.

“Ooooh, my, my, you certainly are a little pantyhose slut, my dear,” cooed the Duchess, as she immediately noticed the irregular patch of damp nylon staining the topmost layer.  She knew that the second layer, which lay pressed up directly against Ginger’s warm, seeping cunt, had to be even wetter.

Softly, delicately, the Duchess knelt on the floor in front of Ginger, pressing her chest against the front of the seat cushion.  She brought her hands forward, and wrapped them around Ginger’s lower thighs and ass, enjoying the hiss of the fabric as she rubbed her hands along the tight curves of the little bunny sitting nervously before her.  While her hands gripped Ginger’s ass, feeling the bottom of her little puffy tail rest against her fingers, she dipped her head forward, and buried her face directly onto the moist gusset patch.  She began to lick and suck feverishly at the nylon, tasting its flavor and the sensuous feeling of the fabric against her lips and tongue.  She pressed her face tighter against Ginger’s gusset, building as much pressure as she could against the girl’s slit.

Ginger gasped and tilted her head back, her bunny ears bobbing around.  She tightened her calves, and flexed her ankles, watching as her black pumps gyrated in little circles while distractedly noticing the swirly moiré patterns of the doubled-nylon on her gorgeous legs.  She looked down and saw the blond tresses of the Duchess spilling over her thighs and onto the seat cushion, listening to her passionate sucking and kissing noises and feeling her warm breath wafting against her crotch.  Ginger groaned as the effects of the champagne and brandy-flavored candy treats played havoc with her senses.  She felt her pussy spasm, and her tight nipples pressed firmly against the cups of her bunny outfit.  She whimpered as the Duchess began to drag her tongue around in random patterns, her sucking noises gaining in intensity.  With a final flourish, Kate dug her tongue in as deep as she could go, wiggled it around in random swirls, then raised her face up.

She looked at Ginger, who looked back at her steadily, not daring to blink.  Her dangling feet continued to twitch in nervous expectation.

“I’m sorry, dear, but I’m going to have to use this.”  Still kneeling, Kate reached toward the table that the silver tray was sitting on, and pulled a drawer open.  Her hand reached into it and emerged holding a glittering dagger.

Ginger’s eyes widened, and Kate said soothingly, “Don’t be silly, dear.  I won’t hurt you.”

Kate pulled up on the damp gusset fabric with one hand, and carefully brought the dagger’s tip up to pierce the nylon, and cut a small slit in the fabric.  The nylon tore up and down the length of the oval gusset in a clean, straight line, allowing Kate to do the same to the second layer pressing up against Ginger’s pussy.  Her warm, puffy pussy had been pressed tight against the fabric, and as Kate released her hold and moved the dagger away, the little pantyhose slut’s pussy lips emerged, bulging from the hole now cut in both sets of nylon.  A milky white dribble was clearly visible as it ran out out of her fuck hole, soaking into the surrounding black nylon.

“Ooooh, lovely.  So sexy,” murmured Kate, who brought her hand up to the sopping, engorged pussy.  Her finger penetrated Ginger, causing her to groan throatily.  Kate scooped out a generous blob of Ginger’s cunt juice, and shamelessly licked her finger clean.

The Duchess smiled up at the bunny girl as she ran one hand up and down the curve of Ginger’s calves.  “Your legs are gorgeous, dear.  I think they look particularly sexy when they are nice and straight.  The curve of your calves, as they go up to your thighs, that little dimple at the back of your knee, mmmm.  Ever since I first saw your legs, I just couldn’t stop thinking about them.”  Kate stood up slowly, and bent forward to whisper in Ginger’s ear.  “Stay here.  Don’t move.”  Ginger nodded her head slowly in obedience, her blue eyes staring back at Kate in doe-eyed anticipation.

Kate placed the dagger onto the table, and reached into the drawer again.  This time, she brought out a coil of smooth white rope.  She straightened out Ginger’s right leg, and lifted her calf and foot up into the air.  Kate took Ginger’s right hand, and guided it forward until her wrist was resting on her leg, near her ankle.  With practiced precision, she bound Ginger’s wrist to her nylon-covered leg, neat side-by-side rows of white rope binding the two together.  She tied the knot, and used the dagger to cut off the free end.  Ginger could only watch helplessly, as her right hand flexed and twitched, her high-heeled foot wriggling in useless resistance.  Quickly, Kate tied together Ginger’s left leg and wrist, then admired her accomplishment.  Now Ginger could only wiggle a bit, her long, gorgeous legs spread wide in a “V” pattern, showing off the curves of her lower calves and thighs, with her wrists tied tightly against her legs, her pussy lips displayed proudly as they bulged outward.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you,” said Kate, as she patted Ginger’s cheek lovingly.

Ginger nodded quietly, her fingers grasping at empty air forlornly.  Her cunt was trickling juice freely, the cooler air in the room a contrast to her warm pussy.

“Mmmm, you look delicious right now.  Just a helpless little bunny girl, all tied up, and that wet, juicy pussy of yours, just begging to be licked.  Do you want me to lick your pretty, little pussy, dear?”

“Mmmm-hmmm,” murmured Ginger.

“Say please.”

The sheer helplessness, tied and bound, now having to beg to have her leaking pussy licked, caused Ginger to whimper, as a twinge of expectation ran through her body.  She felt a new trickle of cunt juice dribble out, and the scent of her twat was in the air.  She flexed her hands again, feeling the rope press into her skin, looking at her obscenely spread legs quivering in the air.

“Please, my lady…m-my goddess, lick my pussy,” she groaned, then added in a whisper, “Make me come.”

Kate smiled, and wordlessly got back into a kneeling position before Ginger.  She eagerly buried her beautiful face into Ginger’s muff, her blond locks spilling out all around her, while holding onto Ginger’s lower thighs with her hands.  Her tongue penetrated deep into Ginger’s cunt, now unobstructed by any pantyhose, and slithered up and down, searching for her swollen clit.

“Ohhhh, God…ohhhhh.” stuttered Ginger, as her pussy was smothered in a tingling torrent of stimulation.

Kate vigorously tongue-fucked her helpless sex toy while listening to her moan, gasp, and whimper in a random stream of wordless sounds.  She tasted her tangy cunt juice, and as she would occasionally lick her own lips, she enjoyed the taste of her own lipstick mixing with Ginger’s warm sauce.

Kate repeatedly drove Ginger to the brink of orgasm, then cruelly slowed down the pace, causing Ginger to gasp and whine.  “Please, oh please, Kate, let me come now…oooohhh….fuck, let me come!”

Kate grasped Ginger’s thighs tighter, enjoying the sensation of pressing her face deep into the little minx’s sopping slit, hearing her gasp as she uselessly struggled against her bonds.  Ginger’s fingers grasped and flexed in random motions, caused by the waves of pleasure flowing through her body.  Her feet juddered and jiggled, high up in the air, equally useless to stop Kate from teasingly bringing her to the brink of orgasm, tantalizing her, before she pulled it just out of reach.

Kate brought her face away from the sopping wet mess of Ginger’s cunt, her tongue lapping up stray strands of juice from her own lips.  She brushed her blond hair out of her face, and saw Ginger’s face clenched tight, a shine of perspiration on her cheeks and forehead.  Ginger looked back at her through half-closed eyes, unable to speak, her mind screaming for an orgasm that Kate still had not allowed.

Ginger’s nostrils flared as her breathing jumped another notch while she watched in wide-eyed, salacious anticipation as Kate reached for the jelly dildo.  She rubbed the tip of the dildo around Ginger’s puffy cunt lips, lubricating the tip thoroughly.  With her free hand, she used her fingers to spread Ginger’s pussy lips apart, exposing a sea of milky juice deep within her pink treasure.  The engorged dildo head was teasingly eased into Ginger’s cunt, eliciting a low groan from her.  Ginger tensed and quivered her pussy muscles, feeling the thick head pressing up against her walls.  A low, pleasurable moan escaped her lips as more of the dildo slid up into her with an audible squelch.

Ginger looked at Kate, the Duchess’ blond hair falling into her eyes, her pink diamond necklace dangling from her neck, waving slightly back and forth, as she concentrated intently on slide the dildo into her body.  Ginger wriggled her hands and feet, and felt a rising tingle flow through her body.  A rhythmic series of thrusts ensued, the dildo easing up into her slippery pussy, then slowly being pulled back, the head hovering at the edge of her pussy lips, before Kate plunged it back in.  The edges of the jelly intruder were soon glistening and slippery with Ginger’s sauce.  The thrusts became faster, and Kate angled the flexible rod a bit so that it rubbed up against Ginger’s sensitive clit.

“Mmmm,” cooed the Duchess.  “Spread those gorgeous legs wider, dear.”

Ginger’s mind was a spinning world of sexual fervor, and she obediently strained to open her legs wider.  She grunted, her lower limbs moving apart a few inches more, and she wiggled her hips in an effort to relieve some of the tension.  The change in position caused the dildo, accompanied by a lewd squelch, to sink deeper into the pool of milky juice that filled her cunt.

“Ohhh, God…ahhhhh….,” gasped Ginger.  A tingle whirled out from her pussy, and her legs quivered, tensing as the orgasm flooded her entire body.  She screamed, and a spurt of juice squirted out around the edges of the dildo, spattering onto her pantyhose as well as Kate’s hand.  Ginger closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, tilting her head back as she gasped for air in ragged breaths.  Her head lolled forward, her entire body spent at the intensity of her orgasm, making it difficult for her to keep her head upright.  Her pussy muscles quivered and fluttered, as the Duchess made soothing sounds.

“There you go, darling.  Just relax.  Relax,” Kate murmured.

The dildo was slowly eased out of Ginger’s cunt, and as her pussy gaped for a moment, a trickle of come dribbled out, soaking into the surrounding nylon.  Kate licked at the trickle, then placed a soft kiss onto Ginger’s swollen clit, leaving a trace of pink lipstick on her wet, glistening skin.  Ginger gasped, as even that gentle touch against her tender clitoris sent another tingle through her body.

The Duchess stood up, and reached for the bowl of pink frosting.  Silently, she lifted the glistening, come-splashed dildo up with one hand, and plunged it deep into the frosting.  The crown and upper shaft were engulfed, and as she pulled it out, a thick coating of pink goo now smothered and mingled with Ginger’s juices on the cock.  Kate added a coating of multicolored sprinkles, and turned to face the squirming bunny-girl.  Ginger froze, her eyes drawn to the obscene lollipop that wiggled slightly in Kate’s grasp.

“All for you, dear,” cooed Kate, as she brought the dildo up to Ginger’s lips.  “Show me again what a good little cocksucker you are.”

Ginger closed her eyes, and promptly wrapped her pink lips around it.  She bobbed her head back and forth, tasting the mixture of frosting and sprinkles on top, and beneath it all, her tangy, sticky juices.  Soft little squelches and an occasional moan issued from Ginger, her lips spread wide around the dick, as she fervently licked and sucked it clean.  Kate slowly pulled her hand back, and the wiggling phallus popped out of Ginger’s mouth with a loud shlurp, a few sticky strings of saliva dangling from the crown.  Kate reached over and placed the dildo onto the silver tray as Ginger coughed and licked her lips clean of the occasional sprinkle and dollop of frosting.

Kate moved closer, her hands resting on the arms of the chair, and bent her face down until it was level with Ginger’s.  She aggressively kissed Ginger, her lips smacking against the bound girl.  She felt Ginger open her mouth, and their tongues darted out from between their lips to slide against each other, while their ripe breasts pressed together, their erect nipples rubbing against the soft fabric that lovingly caressed their bosoms.  Kate smiled devilishly, and dropped one hand down to slide a manicured fingertip into Ginger’s still dripping slit, and she laughed as she heard Ginger’s gasp of shock.

Ginger’s overstimulated, tender pussy quivered, and she was torn between begging Kate to take her finger out, or to scream at her to plunge it in deeper.  Kate teasingly finger-fucked her, slowly edging Ginger closer to the orgasmic precipice.  Ginger grunted, and pushed her face forward slightly to press her lips closer against the Duchess, her long legs quivering and her fingers flexing.

“Please, oh please,” Ginger moaned.  She gasped and squeaked as Kate’s finger wriggled within her pussy, and the precipice opened beneath her as a thumb, wet with her juices, brushed against her clitoris, sensually gliding across it.  Ginger groaned, and a gentler rush of her cunt honey oozed from between her labia, as Kate’s finger continued to easily slide in and out, feeling the girl’s quivering vaginal muscles tightly squeezing it.

“You’re my little pet,” cooed Kate.  She gave Ginger’s lips a final, lingering kiss, before pulling back and sliding her finger out.

Ginger watched as Kate dipped her glistening finger, slick with tangy vaginal secretions, into the bowl of melted chocolate.  Kate dipped her head back down close to Ginger, and brought her finger, the chocolate slowly running down the length of it, up to her royal pink lips.  The Duchess’ pink tongue ran along the entire length, leaving a trail of clean, wet skin behind, before easing the digit into her mouth.  Her lips wrapped around it tightly, and she tilted her head back slightly, eyes closed, as she enjoyed the mingled tastes across her tongue.

Ginger watched in wide-eyed fascination as the scene was played out just inches away from her, every detail registering:  Kate’s golden hair, illuminated by the fire, the pink glossy lipstick, a trace of her own juices visible on Kate’s finger, the hiss of fabric as Kate’s corset brushed up against the bunny costume, the sensation of her fingers, grasping in the air, while her wrists pressed up against her ankles, and the cool trickle of her juices as they continued to ooze from her pussy along her warm flesh, while a dull rumble of thunder sounded outside the windows.

Slowly the finger was eased free, and the Duchess opened her eyes.  She reached forward to softly stroke Ginger’s face, running her hand along the curve of her cheek, brushing against her lips, down the white skin of her neck, past the bow-tie choker, until it rested gently on her chest.  She felt the beating of Ginger’s heart slowly subside.

“Are you happy?” asked Kate.

Ginger nodded quietly.

“Good,” whispered Kate.  “So am I.”  Kate moved back away from Ginger, and stood at her full height, looking down at the helpless bunny-girl.  Ginger squirmed a bit, feeling the ropes pressing into her skin.  The rain had intensified outside, and a bolt of lightning lit up the windows in a harsh white glare briefly, followed by a loud crack of thunder.

Neither woman reacted, instead looking at each other intently, one with a sense of triumph and lust, the other with a confusing mix of apprehension and excitement.  Kate reached behind her back, and loosened the laces holding her corset, then unfastened the straps holding up her stockings.  Ginger watched Kate slowly remove the corset, exposing her breasts fully to her gaze.  She tossed the corset onto the loveseat, which was followed shortly by her pink thong panty, and then her stockings.

Kate, except for the pink diamond necklace, was completely nude.  She stood before Ginger with her hands on her hips, her polished, pink fingernails gently pressing into her supple flesh.  Kate watched Ginger’s eyes roam over her entire body, drinking in the sight of her pristine, white skin, her firm breasts, and her long blonde hair spilling down the sides of her face, while the firelight cast a golden-orange glow across her body, down to her tight pussy and her gorgeous legs.

“A goddess,” murmured Ginger.

Kate smiled.  “Yes, I truly am a goddess, my sweet.”  Kate reached for the dagger, and effortlessly cut the ropes that held Ginger’s legs and wrists together.  Ginger’s legs collapsed back down onto the chair, and she rubbed her wrists, feeling the circulation return.  Small indentations in her flesh were the only mark, soon to fade away.

Kate reached out a hand, and helped Ginger stand up.  “Come with me,” she said quietly, and led Ginger to the bedroom.  She pulled Ginger closer to her bed, as she walked backwards.  As the back of her legs pressed up against the bed, she released Ginger’s arm, and sensuously lowered her own body down onto the soft, red silk sheets.  She lay on her back, her blond hair hanging down over the other end of the mattress.  Her arms lay on the sheets by her head, as her wrists rested near the edge of the bed, palms up.

“Come here, my sweet,” she murmured.  Kate guided Ginger into position above her, until she lay on top of the Duchess, her head resting on the naked chest, feeling the cold diamonds press against her skin.  Kate plucked the bunny ears from Ginger’s head, and tossed them onto the floor.  She guided Ginger’s face toward her bosom, and smiled luxuriously as Ginger began to suck at her engorged nipple.  Ginger cupped her breast, feeling the supple, warm flesh in her hand, as she kissed Kate’s nipple.

“Ooooooh, that’s a good girl,” Kate murmured, as she ran her hand through Ginger’s reddish-brown tresses.  “Now that you’re mine, we can do this every night.”

Kate felt her newest treasure’s wet tongue press against her breast, and she smiled as a delicious sense of self-satisfaction filled her body.  Her triumph was now complete.

Welcome to part 4 of my Kronos Waits For No Man series. It takes place in the same location and time as my Bianca’s Messy Awakening Series, and does ruin a few surprises, so you might want to read that first if you don’t want them revealed.

This story uses an idea I originally had for a short messy scene while writing the afore mentioned series, but didn’t use as it didn’t suit the character’s, and it felt like an unnecessary diversion from the main story.
Here though I’ve been able to expand it into a nice short story with characters who match the more humorous tone I  had in mind when I conceived the idea.

Welcome back to those who’ve been following, and to any newcomers welcome. Where have you been? Me (Caroline Kronos) and my husband (Oliver Wolf) have been having a great weekend at a wet and messy fetish convention at Westbrook Manor. After a mourning with my husband in the resorts dungeon and taking part in a number of pie fights, we’d spent the afternoon looking around the resort. We’d made sure to visit the archery range during Verona’s and Stephanie Vampire’s time volunteering to be tied up and have pies thrown at them. Of course Caroline Kronos is not one to miss out on the fun, and I’d had a go in one of the resorts gunge tanks. This had all been good fun, but it was all leading up to what was going to be the hi-light of the afternoon.

I was currently waiting in one of the operation rooms alongside fellow burlesque beauty Raquel Tejada. Around the room sat a number of people viewing various monitors, and occasionally picking up the phone to communicate with someone. It was a bit like what you see in various dramas on TV, only not decorated quite so dramatically, and a more lived in feel with humorous posters on the wall and empty food packets strewn around the place.
Of course me and Raquel had dressed up for the occasion. We were both wearing red corsets with black lace trim. Thanks to Raquel’s skills as a seamstress both had some custom decoration, she had opted for a design reminiscent of a prehistoric cave painting sewn into her corset in gold thread, while I had several images of Victorian pocket watches on mine. Below the waste I had opted just for a decorative pair of black lacy knickers and a pair of black hold up stockings decorated with red bows at the top and my favourite pair of red stiletto high heels. Raquel had opted for a more modest lacy knee length skirt and mid heel black boots. For those questioning her modesty, well for a lady in her mid 50’s she still knows how to look sexy, but she is sensible enough to be aware of her limits, or as she likes to put it; “If I try to dress myself up like lamb, people would look at me and see mutton.”
We were both waiting in this backstage area to meet up with Sam Westbrook, who was currently looking very stern despite what she was wearing (more on that in a minute) while talking to a young blond woman dressed in a bright pink dress whose assumed name we’d already heard was Pretty N Pink.
“What happened?” asked Sam. “I’m told you asked for a one on one to be stopped almost as soon as it started, and they had to quickly scramble for a replacement.”
“They were going to pour a load of golden syrup in my hair” said Pretty N Pink.
“You were asked to tell us if there were any items you didn’t like when filling in the application form” replied Sam. “Why didn’t you tick the golden syrup box then?”
“I didn’t think anyone would pour any in my hair” replied Pretty N Pink. “It would get stuck in it.”
“We’ve had plenty of people who’ve been able to wash it out with no noticeable problems” replied Sam. “For now I’m going to get a copy of the form printed and sent to your room. I expect you to go through it again and tick off anything you don’t want used on you, including being poured over your head and in your hair. Then return the form to the front desk so we can make sure all the schedules are OK for tomorrow. Hopefully we can then avoid any unnecessary work for the organisers.”
With that Pretty N Pink was dismissed and walked to the exit, giving me and Raquel a slight look of surprise as she saw how we were dressed.
“Don’t say anything” said Sam as she made eye contact with us.
“About what?” I smiled.
“About my outfit” said Sam. “I’m sure you’ve thought of something clever to say.”
Now she’s brought it up it seems like a good time to give an explanation of what’s going on. In the resorts conference room various talks and demos take place including by the merchants demonstrating their wares in order to boost sales. Along the way someone had suggested a lot of people would like to see the resorts owner get gunged, and this would draw in more interest and boost sales. Sam had asked her friends for volunteers to gunge her, and there was no way Caroline Kronos could resist the chance of a public performance. This was all fine with Sam, until someone suggested Sam should demonstrate some of the costumes for sale at one of the stalls, which explains why she was now wearing a sexy French maid costume.
“There’s nothing wrong with dressing a little flamboyantly” I said.
“You should stay dressed like that, you‘d be really popular. I‘d go for black, not white stockings though” suggested Raquel.
“Why did I agree to this again?” asked Sam.
“Officially it’s due to the extra numbers that seeing the boss getting gunged will bring to the conference hall, helping boost the business of all the stall holders” said Raquel. “Unofficially, it’s no secret you enjoy having buckets of gunge poured over you, so it didn’t really take that much convincing.”
“Don’t worry” I said. “We’ll make sure your able to get cleaned up in time for your date with Caramel Mocha tonight.”
“Isn’t that him your watching on the monitor” asked Raquel. “Looking at him I say you’ve made a good choice.”
I hadn’t paid much attention to the monitors but upon closer inspection I realised the man on the screen did match the description Figaro had given me when telling me what happened this mourning. He was pouring a grey coloured mud over a woman tied up in a gunge tank. Thanks to all the mud covering her it took me a few seconds before I recognised her as Nurse Bianca from the pie fights earlier today.
“How come you know about him Raquel?” asked Sam.
“You mum” said Raquel.
“You mean you spoke to her earlier” said Sam.
Sam’s parents, and the landlords of Westbrook Manor, both hold supervisory roles in what is a family business, or at least the percentage not owned by the investors is family owned.
“Well the gossip got to her obviously” said Raquel. “She says she promises to keep her distance until your ready to properly introduce her.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t put yourself down to be there in the woods” I said.
“Well I already did that this mourning” said Sam. “If I turned up for a second time I’d end up coming over as a bit desperate.”
“Well you have been single for a while” I said.
“I’ve dated a few men” she said. “Just not to the point where I felt ready to introduce them to all of this. It‘s a bit of a strange thing to introduce someone to”
“Well at least that’s not a problem this time” I said. “Believe me your missing out on one of the best parts of the weekend when you don’t have a partner. Hell, a lot of the singletons end up making their own arrangements anyway.”
“Like the threesome Marie Buccaneer and Valerie Tomb have planned for Twisted Genius tonight you mean” said Raquel.
“Well as long as they don’t get carried away like they did with him earlier that should be fine” smiled Sam.
“How about you?” I asked. “Got anything special planned with Caramel Mocha?”
“I’ll stick with dinner and drinks for now, and see how things go from there” replied Sam.
“Well looking at the monitor he knows how to treat a woman” said Raquel.
We looked over to see that Nurse Bianca was still strapped into the gunge tank, now completely covered head to toe in mud as well as a fair amount of flour. Caramel Mocha had left her like that, although judging by the smile on Nurse Bianca’s face she didn’t seem to mind.
“So what do you think Sam?” asked Raquel. “Are you doing a bit of a Dead Ringer and getting turned on watching this?”
I saw Sam smile and blush a little at this suggestion.

We continued to talk for another quarter of an hour or so until it was time for what we all got together for, out on the stage in the main conference room. Me and Raquel had been fitted with a couple of discreet microphones and we’d worked out the rough bullet points for what we had planned, some of which we’d not told Sam. I was happy to let the more in your face Raquel Tejada do most of the talking, Caroline Kronos being the silent femme fatale type.
“Good evening ladies and gentle ……., and men” called out Raquel. “I’m Raquel Tejada, and my partner here is Caroline Kronos. Are you ready for us to show you a good time?”
I dramatically flicked my hips as I looked out at the 200 plus crowd of bizarrely dressed people who’d gathered to see the show. I saw a few faces I recognised including that of my husband Oliver Wolf, which was lucky for him.
“We’re here today to give a demonstration of some of the messy items available for purchase here today” said Raquel. “The majority of the messy substances you’ll see used here were kindly donated by gunge-supplies.com who have a large stand here on the west side of the hall, and if you like what you see they will be offering a 10 percent discount on the items used if you buy them tonight.”
“So make sure you all head over there before it’s too late” I said.
“Wow” said Raquel. “How did we end up as such corporate shills?”
“Oh, Caroline Kronos will do anything if the right offer’s made” Caroline Kronos smiled at the audience.
“Why don’t you tell the nice people what else has been supplied” said Raquel.
“Well” mused Caroline Kronos. “If like me you like to get hold of a man, and make sure he’s going nowhere until you’ve finished with him. I know one man who I’m going to do that to later. You might want to head over to the bound 4 love stand and check out some of the restraints they have on offer. For our little playtime this evening they’ve supplied us with this inflatable bondage chair. It allows you to sit your victim down comfortably.”
“Which will be handy if their bottom is sore after a good spanking” chimed in Raquel.
“Indeed” Caroline Kronos agreed. “You can then use the straps to keep them securely held in place while you have your fun. Of course once your done you can quickly release them thanks to the quick release Velcro straps.”
“Of course one other company has supplied something for our fun” said Raquel. “The glittering gooseberry store has provided a costume for our victim, I mean the volunteer tonight. Lets have a big round of applause for Miss Sam Westbrook.”
There was a large round of applause as Sam walked out from where she’d been concealed at the side of the stage into the central spotlight. She gave a slightly nervous smile and wave to the crowd as she came out.
“Caroline” called out Raquel. “Why don’t you show Sam her seat.”
I took Sam by the hand and led her to the inflatable bondage chair placed at the front and centre of the stage. I sat her down and measurely secured all the straps, starting with the ones that went round her wrists and then the ones further up the chair arms that secured Sam’s arms just above her elbows. To finish I bent down in a seductive pose to secure the straps that went around her ankles to make sure she was securely restrained.
“Are you comfortable Sam” asked Raquel.
“Yes” she giggled, while nodding for the benefit of those further back in the crowd. Due to what we had planned she hadn’t been fitted with a microphone, which was probably a good thing considering what happened next.
“Now some people do question the security of the straps” said Raquel. “That’s why we asked the catering department to prepare us something that will prove that Sam here really can’t escape.”
I saw a look of trepidation come across Sam’s face. This was a surprise we’d not told her about before we started. Me and Raquel both went over and took a lid off a bucket each, that had the surprise ready.
“To test the restraints we’ve got the catering team to use the machine in one of the cafes to make as a couple of buckets of cherry slush puppie” said Raquel.
(By the way, that is how they spell puppie, it’s not a typo.)
We both tilted the buckets towards the audience slightly to allow them a better view. Some of the ice crystals had melted, but not enough to stop a thick viscous blob that swirled around in a dark red vibrantly coloured liquid. We both strutted over to Sam, who was giving us an evil look. For a second I felt a little guilty but then I remembered how she made me think I’d been caught in an embarrassing situation on CCTV this mourning and didn’t feel so bad. I stood behind Sam first, and held the bucket there teasingly.
“O.K, if you want us to empty this over her let’s hear a big cheer” called out Raquel.
The audience responded with a loud cheer and clapping. This was more than enough to prompt us to tip the buckets over her. Sam let out a high pitched scream as the shock of the frozen ice crystals, followed by a few quieter expressions I’d best not repeat as we continued to pour. The red syrup now dripped from her hair and down her body. The ice crystals had fallen faster, but had settled in a large amount on her lap, as well as quite a bit having found it’s way down the front and back of her dress.

Me and Raquel both stepped back to admire our handiwork and pose for the audience.
“Well I think that proves Sam really is at our mercy” smiled Raquel. “You’ll be pleased to know there’s no surprises left for you. The bad news is we still have plenty of stuff supplied by gunge-suplies.com.”
On queue I strutted over to where the various items were, and picked up one of the larger buckets half filled with a brightly pink coloured gunge.
“The main item we’ll be demonstrating is a substance called Natrosol. Many of you may be familiar with it, either through personal use or from it’s use in many TV gungings you may have seen” said Raquel. “In a minute me and Caroline will be demonstrating the many colours of gunge available for purchase today, first though Caroline will be demonstrating how this stuff can be used in a gunge tank style gunging.”
Caroline Kronos gave the audience a teasing look, before raising the bucket as high above Sam’s head as I could manage. That’s not as easy as it sounds with a heavy bucket while wearing high stiletto heels. I tipped the bucket, starting with a slow teasing trickle that caused Sam to give out a girlish giggle. I tilted the bucket further to pour a stream of gunge down on her long blonde hair, she tilted her head forward to avoid too much on her face, but couldn’t avoid the rest of her head being coated with a thick gooey pink layer. Then I tilted the bucket as far as I could causing a full deluge to fall on her head and then splash out in all directions, which was a bit of a mistake as it resulted in a load of the gunge splashing onto my thighs.
“Do try to be a bit more professional Caroline” said Raquel as I stepped away.
“Oh I know all about being both professional and discreet Raquel” Caroline Kronos leered.
“Well lets see how much of a pro you are then” smiled Raquel. “Why don’t you give me a hand with this job.”
On cue me and Raquel went over to where the gunge was being kept and each took 2 of the smaller buckets in each hand and positioned ourselves either side of Sam.
“We’ve demonstrated with a large bucket of gunge” said Raquel, “but now we’re going to use these smaller buckets to showcase the many colours of gunge that are available to purchase today.”
“Of course having a smaller container to dispense gunge does have it’s advantages” I said. I’d put down 3 of the buckets next to Sam and was holding onto just one filled with dark blue gunge.
“Up to now you’ve avoided to much sticky stuff on your face haven’t you Sam” I said.
A nervous smile of anticipation came across Sam’s face as she saw what I had in mind.
“Now though there’s no way to keep your face clean” I said.
I took the bucket and aimed. Sam closed her eyes and tensed in anticipation. She let out a gasp of shock as her face was hit and completely covered in dark blue gunge. Raquel though ensured she didn’t get any respite by emptying a bucket of red gunge over her head, leaving her covered in various multi-coloured swirls. Only then did we pause slightly, giving Sam a chance to bend forward enough to wipe her eyes, while we positioned ourselves for the next part of the planned show.

For this part of the entertainment we stood directly opposite one another on either side of Sam, while holding a bucket of gunge each, in my case a bright fluorescent orange. I made discreet eye contact with Raquel to make sure she was ready, and while she posed for the crowd I took aim. The plan was to make it look like I was aiming for Sam, but for some it to “accidentally” miss and hit Raquel. I’m glad to say my aim was almost perfect, Sam Was hit by a fair amount on the side of her head and shoulders, but a decent amount went over her head and hit Raquel, leaving a large splash of bright orange clinging onto her body. She put on a great pantomime look of shock at being hit by the gunge, while I tried to play innocent, which isn’t easy for Caroline Kronos. She responded by taking the bucket of yellow gunge and throwing it in the direction of me and Sam. Her aim was higher than mine, with some hitting Sam, but much of it deliberately aimed at me. I gasped as I was hit by a sudden cold splash that hit me in the face, hair and much of my body, including a fair amount seeping down my cleavage.
“That’s what you get for not being careful young madam” laughed Raquel.
Of course Caroline Kronos would never let someone get away with something like that. I grabbed another of my buckets, this one containing a rich dark purple coloured one. This time I didn’t hesitate, or even pretend I wasn’t trying to hit Raquel. I heaved the bucket with force and a huge wave of purple gunge cascaded through the air and suddenly coasted Raquel in a large purple splash. Raquel gave out a look of shock while I emptied what was left in my bucket over Sam’s head who had been watching our little mock dispute with a look of bemusement.
“I can’t believe you did that” cried out Raquel.
“Well it serves you right” Caroline Kronos smiled.
Rather than reply with another comeback Raquel picked up a bucket of sky blue gunge and returned the favour by throwing it over me. This time I ducked my head a little, but this resulted a huge splash over my hair, completely coating my black hair in the thick gunge, and leaving it dripping down me, including down the back of my corset.
After quickly wiping myself off I went for my last bucket containing what started out as a plain white gunge, but thanks to all the stuff that had been flying around it had quite a few blobs and swirls of other colours in it. Seeing what I was doing Raquel went for her last bucket containing a fluorescent red gunge. We stood opposite each other, Mexican stand off style, with Sam still strapped into the bondage chair between us.
“You wouldn’t dare” said Raquel.
Maybe just plain Carol would have hesitated, but Caroline Kronos didn’t hesitate for a second, then again neither did Raquel Tejada. This being the last bucket of this part of the show this time we both aimed to get Sam along with each other. This resulted in Sam being hit by a large splash on both sides of her simultaneously, and both me and Raquel being hit by a final splash of gunge.
With the last of the buckets emptied the audience broke into a round of applause. Not surprisingly Sam was the worse for wear, now completely covered in a multi-coloured film of gunge from the waste up, and forced to sit in a messy pool of it that had accumulated around her lap. You could though make out the huge smile on her face as she surveyed what we’d done to her.
I took the opportunity to wipe my face and some of the gunge out of my hair. I then pretended to wipe some off the rest of my body, but really I was just rubbing on myself, starting with my arms before doing my neck and shoulders, and teasingly rubbing my exposed cleavage. Partly this was because Caroline Kronos enjoyed the attention from the audience this got, and partly because I enjoyed the feeling of the gunge being rubbed over my body.

“Well I think we’ve successfully demonstrated the range of colours available. We have one more type of gunge to demonstrate though before moving on.” said Raquel. “Caroline, do you think you can stop touching yourself for a second and get the last bucket.”
I cheekily stuck my tongue out at her, but did as I was told. Not something Caroline Kronos is use to doing, but with what was planned, how could I resist.
“Up to now we’ve been using the regular natrosol” said Raquel. “There is an extra thick version available though. It’s not as suitable for throwing around as the normal version, but it’s thickness means a very thick and messy gloop to cover someone with.”
“Are you ready for this Sam?” I teased.
“Yes” she giggled.
“Let’s here a countdown from the audience” said Raquel. “Three, two, one.”
I didn’t pour immediately, instead preferring to tease Sam a little. Once I’d seen her squirm a little though, and after some cajoling from the audience I tipped the bucket on to it’s side and the very thick, bright green coloured slime poured over Sam’s head. I looked down with a sultry smile as the thick green gunge slowly seeping across her head in every direction, until it completely covered every feature on Sam’s head. I continued to pour as I heard a few muffled moans from Sam as the gunge I poured continued to slowly seep across her head, and then down her body, until I’d poured every last drop over her, leaving nothing but a green blob with an open mouth in the chair. The audience responded with a huge cheer in acknowledgement of Sam’s efforts. Me and Raquel took a bow while Sam bent down to wipe her eyes so she could take in the applause as best we can.

“Thank you” I said as the applause died down. “I’m sure you’ll be disappointed to know that’s all the gunge we were given.”
There was a load of light hearted booing from the audience.
“What’s with the booing” I said. “This isn’t a pantomime.”
“Oh yes it is” someone from the audience called out.
“The good news is we were given one other messy item to demonstrate” I said. “Which I believe Raquel is bringing out now.”
“I can’t believe your making a poor old lady do this” said Raquel.
“You don’t think your too old for all the young men you pick up in bars” I replied.
“There’s nothing wrong with sharing the benefit of your experience” Raquel replied.
“As you can see Raquel is wheeling out a trolley of foam pies” I said. “You can buy the powder that can be whisked up with water to make these pies from the gunge-suplies.com stall. As you can see these pies are available in a variety of fun colours. We have cherry red, strawberry pink, lemon yellow, lime green, orange, err orange.”
“And we have these brown coloured ones” injected Raquel. “Which I think look a lot like ….”
“Chocolate” I interrupted. I knew where Raquel was going, and definitely didn’t want to go their.
“Moving on” said Raquel. “During the planning of this demonstration it was suggested me and Caroline should set up for a pie fight between us. Well me and Caroline discussed this, and we did realise we both took a lot of pies in the pie fights we entertained a lot of you with earlier.”
There was a cheer from the audience in recognition of this.
“Well we decided we’d both already taken plenty of pies” I said. “So now we have Sam strapped to the chair we can tell her we’re going to hit her with all of the pies.”
Sam shook her head a little at this point, but didn’t make any more objections, not that she could do much while strapped to an inflatable chair. I picked up one of the red and one of the pink pies, while Raquel took a brown and an orange one. I went up to Sam, who was looking at us through a mask of green slime with a look of nervous pleasure, and stood slightly to one side of her, to avoid obscuring the audiences view, while Raquel stood directly behind her. I teasingly held the red pie in front of her face as she giggled nervously.
“Are you ready” I asked.
She nervously nodded.
“What about those in the audience” I asked.
A some of them responded with a cheer.
“You’ll need to do better than that” I said.
“That’s not what you said last night” a familiar voice called out.
I looked round and realised that particular heckle had come from my husband.
“I’ll discipline you later” I responded.
I then returned my attentions back to Sam and shoved the pie in her face. I rubbed it in for several seconds before removing the pie. She opened her mouth in shock, her face now covered in a layer of red foam. Unluckily for her she wasn’t going to get any respite as Raquel immediately responded by sandwiching her head between the two pies she was holding, firmly rubbing the brown and orange foam into either side, completely engulfing her head in multi-coloured foam. Raquel firmly rubbed the foam into Sam’s head for a good 10 seconds. Once she was done I was ready to go again, smashing a pink foam pie into Sam’s face, this time leaving the paper plate stuck in place so Sam had to shake it off herself as we walked away.

Having exhausted the first set of pies we stepped back so everyone could see our handiwork. All the brightly coloured gunge that completely covered her body now had an extra covering of covered foam on her head. Sam was giggling loudly, and I noticed deliberately struggling in her restraints. Something I’ve done myself to enhance the pleasure of something.
“I think we’ve successfully demonstrated the fun you can have pieing someone up close” said Raquel. “If there are any good looking men out there who want my pie in their face later please come and see me afterwards.”
“Back to the job in hand” I said. “I think it’s time we demonstrated some pie throwing, don’t you?”
“Not a bad idea” said Raquel, picking up a green and a red pie. I chose to take a yellow and an orange one.
We stood a short distance from Sam as she helplessly looked on. Raquel started by throwing her green pie. Her aim was a little low, and instead of a direct hit to the head it hit her chin, neck and shoulder. Thanks to the velocity of the throw though the foam spread across the area with a satisfying splat.
My turn was next and I aimed an orange pie at Sam’s chest. It was a good shot, splattering the orange foam across her chest. Raquel not wanting to be outdone responded similarly throwing her red pie at the same area causing another splat of foam.
I opted to aim my yellow one at her head, and managed a good shot, that would have hit Sam in the face if she hadn’t turned her head slightly. It still managed to form a large splatter across the side of her head though.

At that point we were down to 4 pies, I took a yellow and a green one, while Raquel took a pink and brown one. We walked up to Sam, determined to give the audience a big finish.
I stood to Sam’s side holding a pie in front of her face, and one behind her head, while Raquel crouched down holding one pie in front of her chest and one in front of her stomach. I made eye contact with Raquel, and we both hit Sam with both of our pies simultaneously. We made sure to firmly rub all the foam in as we heard Sam breaking down into an uncontrolled fit of giggles. We kept this up for as long as we dared, until Sam was noticeable squirming, before turning our attention to the audience for one last time.
“Ladies and men” said Raquel. “We want to thank you all for watching our little demonstration today.”
There was a rapturous response from the audience.
“We want to thank our suppliers for the demonstration. Bound 4 love for the chair and glittering gooseberry for Sam’s costume, but mostly gunge-supplies.com for supplying the gunge and pies you saw demonstrated today. Don’t forget they are offering a 10 percent discount for all purchases made for the rest of the afternoon.” Raquel continued.
There was another cheer from the audience.
“Finally lets have a huge cheer for the resorts owner, one of the main organisers of this weekend, and our victi … I mean helper in this demonstration, Sam Westbrook.” Raquel continued.
The audience broke out into the loudest cheer of the evening. Me and Raquel took one last bow and walked off, leaving Sam to receive the last cheers for herself. As the last cheers died down me and Raquel knew to say one last thing that would be heard through our microphones before removing them.
“Are you sure we haven’t forgotten something Raquel?”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing.”

From our position backstage we heard Michael, one of the main event planners go on stage to release Sam to her final round of applause and do some final announcements and corporate shilling. Sam made her way backstage, where us and several on duty members of staff could see the state she had ended up in. She was determined to give everyone a big hug.
“Whose idea was the slush puppie?” Sam asked.
“You mum suggested it when we were talking earlier” said Raquel.
“Why would she do that?” Sam asked.
“She says she got the idea when she saw the slush machine while working at one of the cafes.” said Raquel. “She said it was either that, or she’d turn up to watch you getting messy at some point, which she knows you’d hate.”
“Well you’d better hurry and get cleaned up for your date” I said. “Unless your going to turn up looking like that, he wouldn’t necessarily mind.”
“True” said Sam, “but I can hardly go to one of the resort restaurants dressed like this. We have put down rules about creating mess in dining areas.”
“I know” I said. “Anyone creating mess in the dining areas, through outside mess or unscheduled food fights has to pay double for any messy materials used, and tip the cleaning staff several hundred pounds. Really, sometimes your no fun whatsoever.”
“Well we have to keep some people in check don’t we Caroline Kronos” said Sam.
“Are you saying I can’t be trusted” I said with mock indignation.
“I’m sure Caroline Kronos would start a food fight, just because she enjoyed the attention” said Sam.

I was a little intrepid preparing for my boyfriend Mark to come over to take me out to lunch. Not that I usually worry about preparing to go out. I’m pretty proud of my toned dark skinned body, and despite my parents occasional objections I don’t mind showing it off. I’d opted for a short black miniskirt, and a matching pair of ankle boots with a 3 inch chunky heel. I’d opted for a bare midriff yellow top, with the logo of one of my favourite bands on it. My more pressing concern was my hair and make-up. I opted to do my make up as normal, with mascara to enhance my eye-lashes, and bright red lipstick which I’m almost never without. More of a concern was my long black hair. Normally I like to have it flowing, but knowing what I’d agreed to today I decided to tie it back into a pony tail.

What had I agreed to? Well, me and Mark had met on a night out about a month ago, and we’d been seeing each other regularly since. One thing that we had in common is our love of Rugby, even though we supported different teams. A few days we were watching as our 2 teams played one another, mine got of to an early lead, and I had fun teasing him about this, and even challenged him to a bet where the looser does a forfeit. I said if my team won he’d have to treat me to a night out at my favourite restaurant, I was a little taken back by his forfeit, if my team lost I’d have to let him tie my hands behind my back and he would hit me with a couple of shaving foam pies. I was confident in my team though, so thought I‘d be treated to a nice night out. It looked like my team would win for most of the match, but then his team had a last minute surge, scoring several times in the last 10 minutes, and narrowly won. I was obviously reluctant about fulfilling my forfeit, especially the idea of being embarrassed in front of anyone we knew, we both lived with our parents, so couldn’t exactly do it at home with no-one seeing. He suggested that he’d buy a few bath towels, and we could do it in private in the woods at a large park on the way from my house to the city centre, while it was quiet during the day. I’d reluctantly agreed to this.

I had hoped he might have forgotten, but no such luck, as a short amount of time later we pulled into the mostly empty car park at the edge of the park.
“Come on then” he said, grabbing a backpack from the back seat. Resigned to my fate I followed. At this point I realised heels may not have been the best choice for a walk through a park. The paths to start with weren’t to bad, once we were on the rougher paths in the woods I had to hold on to Mark’s arm to help keep myself steady. A few minutes walk in he suggested turning off the path, walking into the trees, after a few more minutes we stopped at a small leafy clearing in the trees.
“Well, this is it” he said. I looked around and saw it was a relatively private place. We couldn’t be seen from the paths, and it seemed to be quiet enough at this time to mean someone was unlikely to walk down it anyway.
“You won’t get any in my hair?” I said.
“Nothing you won’t be able to towel out. Now if your wearing anything you don‘t want to get foam on you best take it off now” he replied.
I thought about it for a second and decided to take my top off. I was wearing a black satin bra underneath and I rather that got foam on it instead of a top I was wearing to lunch afterwards. I handed it to him to Mark who had also taken off his T-shirt, stripping down to his jeans, and was storing it in his backpack. It was at that point he pulled a surprise out his bag.
“Handcuffs!” I exclaimed.
I knew I would be tied up, but had assumed it would be with a scarf or something similar.
“You have got the key?” I asked, a little warily.
“They’re right here” he replied. Waving me the keys, before putting them in the pocket of his jeans. Before I could protest any more he grabbed my right arm and snapped the cuff around it, he then grabbed my left arm as well, manoeuvring both my arms behind my back, snapping the left cuff on before I realised what was happening. I found myself giggling almost involuntarily as what I was getting into dawned on me.
“Are those cuffs nice and secure?” He asked.
I quick felt the solid weighty cuffs around my wrists, and quickly realised I wouldn’t be getting out.
“Yeah” I replied.
“Sure” he asked back, as I let out a playful yelp as he took the opportunity to quickly grab my right breast.
“Oh look, you forgot to take your hair band out” he said. He then reached up and slid my hair band off, causing my hair to fall down around the side of my head.
“I’ll let you enjoy the handcuffs while I sort out the pies shall I?”

I was quickly in for another surprise though, seeing him bring out a dozen sized pack of paper bowls wasn’t a surprise, what was though was seeing him place all 12 on the ground, and then taking three cans of shaving foam out. He then proceeded to spray the foam equally between all 12 bowls.
“I thought you said 2 pies” I said.
“Well I thought we could take advantage and have as much fun as possible” he replied.
“But I won’t be able to get clean after that lot surely”
“Don’t worry, you’ll be able to wipe most of it off, and I brought several towels for the rest.”
I felt a mild wave of panic as he continued to make the 12 pies. It looked like I’d be completely covered in mess. I wouldn’t be able to run away fast enough, and those handcuffs were completely secure, holding my now trembling hands behind my back.
There was nothing I could do, and soon Mark had made all the pies and was holding one teasingly in front of my face. If anything seeing one up close made things worse, I’d been imagining a small amount of foam, instead I was faced with a 7 inch diameter paper bowl, piled 2 to 3 inches high with thick white foam almost from edge to edge. I‘d thought I‘d have to face a small smattering of foam, I realised Mark intended to completely cover me, and I was now helpless to do anything about it.
“No” I begged, closing my eyes as the pie moved towards my face. Seconds later I felt my face engulfed in the cool thick foam as the pie was firmly pressed against my face. As I felt the bowl drop I opened my eyes and gasped, before letting out a hysterical giggle in disbelief.
“Did you enjoy that? Mark asked.
“No” I said, but couldn’t help laughing as I said it.
“Where do you want the next one?” He asked as he picked up the next one, and started scanning my body with his eyes. I squirmed nervously in anticipation as he paced around me.
“No” I shrieked as I felt my miniskirt being lifted. It was to no avail as I felt a pie being firmly pushed into my arse. I felt the foam squelching against my knickers, clinging on even after the bowl fell.
“I can’t believe you did that” I exclaimed.
“Do you want another one there?” he asked.
“No!” I exclaimed.
“Where next then? How about your beautiful sexy legs.”
I watched helplessly as he grabbed a pie in each hand, knelt down in front of me and placed a pie on each of my thighs. He then proceeded to rub the pies down and around my legs, creating a not unpleasurable sensation created as the foam squelched against my skin.
“You seemed to enjoy those ones” Mark said.
I shook my head a little, reluctant to admit it.
“I reckon you’ll enjoy one on your back even more” he continued.
I didn’t have to wait long as a pie was firmly placed between my shoulder blades. The pie was again rubbed around, creating an even more pleasurable sensation than on my legs. Then as the bowl drop I felt Mark’s hands slowly massaging the foam around my shoulder and neck. I closed my eyes and let out some quiet involuntary moans of pleasure as I became overwhelmed by the sensation.

“You definitely enjoyed that“ Mark said as he picked up the next pie.
“I don’t want you enjoying yourself too much” he continued. “These next couple of pies will definitely need to go in your face.”
I gave an involuntary nervous smile as we made nervous eye contact. I closed my eyes in anticipation. I was quickly engulfed for a second time in an even thicker layer of foam. I gasped again as the pie dropped, and then felt Mark’s hands on my face, they slowly wiped some of the foam around to the side of my head, I grimaced as I felt the foam being shampooed into my hair.
“I think a little might have got in your hair” Mark joked. “Your about to get a lot more” he continued.
This time I didn’t even feign any objections as he picked up the next pie, I felt almost eager to be pied again. I didn’t have to wait long as he placed a pie squarely on the top of my head, he then firmly squeezed it down, causing the foam to spread out, and completely saturating my hair with foam over the top of my head. He left the paper bowl in place as he went back to the pies. I had to tilt my head back and shake my head to dislodge the bowl.
This had taken my focus off Mark for a few seconds doing this, and was surprised to see he was holding 2 pies, one in each hand, on either side of my face. I gasped as I realized what was going to happen next. Both pies hit my face, leaving just a small gap in the centre where my nose and mouth stuck out at the front, but reaching all the way round past my ears. I let out repeated involuntary gasps of pleasure which seemed to encourage Mark to take his time more as he slowly rotated the pies back and forth against my face, meaning I felt it squelch against my skin, that felt wonderful.

“Did you think you’d enjoy getting handcuffed and pied this much?” asked Mark as he drew the pies back.
I smiled and giggled but found myself unable to answer.
“There’s still quite a bit of foam here” he said indicating the 2 pies he was still holding, before placing one firmly on my chest, and pressing the other into my stomach.
As he held the next pie in front of my face in anticipation I found I was trembling again, but this time not in worry, but in anticipation of the wave of guilty pleasure I knew I would feel when the pie hit. By this point I was actually glad about being securely handcuffed, as at least I could place the blame on Mark for what was happening, even when in truth I wouldn’t have tried to escape at this point even if I thought it possible.
I once again felt the sensation of the pie engulfing my face for several seconds. Before once again drawing the pie back and hitting me on the chest with it. He stepped up close to me and started rubbing some of the foam around, spreading the foam across my face, and rubbing some around my neck. I then felt 2 of his fingers tenderly wipe the foam away from my lips.
“Well your face is completely covered, but your lips are still looking beautiful and kissable” Mark said.
He then slowly leaned in and placed a warm lingering kiss on my lips. I leaned in a little as he drew back to prolong it slightly. I smiled as I saw his face with some of the foam smeared on it, as we made nervous eye contact.
“You’re lucky I am handcuffed right now” I said. “If I was free I’d be grabbing hold of you, and I wouldn’t let you go for a long time.”
“Your going to be at my mercy for a while yet” he replied. “Especially as I’ve got a special place in mind for this last pie.”
I playfully shook my head as I saw him eyeing my bra. I raised no objections though as he slipped the fabric of the cups off my breast, leaving them both exposed. I took several deep breaths in anticipation as he came towards me with the pie. I closed my eyes and braced myself, before feeling the pie hitting my breasts. I let out continuous gasps of pleasure at the sensation. First of the pie itself being rubbed across them, then of Marks hand as he rubbed the foam across them while firmly grasping them. He was clearly enjoying taking his time, almost as much as I was enjoying the sensation. After a lingering amount of time Mark let go and pulled my bra back out, leaving foam squelching around in it.

Mark had stepped back looking me up and down, admiring his handiwork. I couldn’t stop giggling as I realised what a state I was in.
“Is this the messiest you’ve ever been? Asked Mark.
“Yes” I said.
“There’s quite a bit of foam on the ground around you now. I could always make some more pies” he said.
“No” I shrieked.
“I’ll let you enjoy the foam and handcuffs a little longer shall I” he said.
“Can you hold onto me so I can sit down for a while?” I asked. “I’ve been tottering around in these heels for a while now”
“Can’t you reach the zip and take them off” He joked as he held on to my arm.
I slowly crouched down, then clumsily leaned back onto my bum. I was then able to lean back, resting on my elbows. Mark though was now within arms reach of one of the paper bowls from earlier, and was able to quickly fill it with some of the excess foam. I shook my head a little, but couldn’t conceal the smile of pleasure in anticipation, before once again having a pie in my face. Once the pie dropped I looked up and made hesitant eye contact with Mark, which caused both of us to blush with embarrassment.
“Is there anything else you want to do?” I asked, while bending my knees up to my current chest height, and spreading my legs apart.
I saw a slight look of hesitation on Mark’s face.
“I’m helplessly handcuffed and covered in foam” I continued as my I felt my breathing deepen. “I’m completely at your mercy.”
That was all the encouragement he needed. I closed my eyes as he came close and planted repeated passionate kisses on my lips, while his hands explored my body. I took a deep breath in anticipation as I felt his hand slide up my skirt, and eagerly slide my knickers down my legs.

It was a good while later, I don’t know how long. Mark was lying on the ground with his arms firmly around my waist. I was lying on top of him with my head resting on his chest.
“I suppose I better takes those handcuffs off then” Mark said.
It took a little fumbling to find the keyhole, but I was soon free of the cuffs. The first thing I did was put a hand on each of Mark’s cheeks, and place a tender kiss on his lips. The second thing I did was wipe a large handful of foam of myself and smear it across his face.
“I think we’d better get cleaned up” he said.
I started wiping the foam off myself, throwing all the excess on the ground. I found most of it came of pretty easy. Once we’d done the worst we used the towels Mark had brought for the rest. Mark had to vigorously rub my hair with the towel to get that clean, but once he’d done that it at least looked passable.
“So did you enjoy being handcuffed and covered in foam?” Mark asked as I was putting my top back on.
“Yeah” I giggled.
“We’ll have to make another bet then, won’t we” he joked.
“Next time I’ll win, and I’m going to handcuff you and cover you in pies” I replied.
“Ooooh. Knowing that I might pick a bet I can loose on purpose.” he said. “Although I’ll definitely make sure I get you back the time after that.”
I shook my head at him, but the truth was that despite my initial reservations, I’d really enjoyed myself. The idea of repeating the experience sounded great.

Those of you who have been reading from the beginning are probably a little tired of me repeating myself, but for those who’ve just clicked on a link that’s come up your at part 4 of a 5 part novel like story, written to be read starting at the beginning. I would highly recommend going back a few sections and reading those before continuing as there is stuff in this part where you won’t fully understand what is going on.

OK, is that everyone who shouldn’t be reading gone? Good. The conception of the messy scene here seemed simple on paper, take the classic bondage idea of an interrogation, throw in a variety of messy substances, and write a set up that involved my characters. The hardest section to write was towards the end of chapter 10, where I had to get the tone right of keeping my characters acting realistically, without things becoming uncomfortable or brutal. I think though I came up with a good solution, and I’m personally pleased with the results, I hope you all like it too.

Chapter 9:

24 hours ago the most I’d ever been able to do to indulge my wet and messy fetish was some occasional self gunging sessions. Now I was hurriedly showering after my first messy session of the day, in preparation of my second.
For those who need reminding, I’m currently attending a wet and messy enthusiast convention, having volunteered as one of the slaves. Don’t worry, there’s a strict policy of treating slaves well. It means that my schedule and activities are chosen for me, making up numbers and taking positions where needed. So far I’d had a lot of fun, the only blot being I’d not told my husband about this or even my wet and messy fetish yet. After talking to some of my new friends in the bar last night and my first messy session this mourning I was feeling better.
Cleaning myself off wasn’t too bad. My hair was still a bit sticky from where I’d had honey poured into it, but it would pass. The main problem was my underwear, I’d given it a rinse, but it was soaked and still stained with chocolate. Thanks to a hitch with the scheduling I didn’t have time to go to my room and change into a spare set, so had to make do as I put my robe on and headed out to meet with Sam who was taking me to my next activity.
“Is everything OK?” asked Sam.
“My knickers are still wet” I replied.
“I thought you would have calmed down by now” she sniggered.
“You know what I mean” I blushed.
“There’s one thing we need to sort out for this next activity. You need to think of a 4 digit number and memorize it for reasons I’ll explain later” she said.
I thought about it for a few seconds and suggested a number.
“That should be all right” she said. “We’re almost their. It’s just down these stairs.”
We were heading under an arch in the main reception room. Above me I saw a temporary sign that had been put up that said “The Dungeon.” You may see the name and think of a dark, dank rat infested chamber of horrors. Well Westbrook Manor is a luxury resort, so in hindsight my first thought didn’t make sense. It turns out it was the area normally used as the wine cellar and downstairs seating for one of the restaurants. This means it was well lit, and clean, apart from where other attendees had spilt messy substances. Around the cellar were lots of wine racks locked behind metal gratings, and even some wine barrels and an area set up for wine tasting. For this weekend (well I assume just this weekend) some extra stuff had been set up. It reminded me a little of the servants quarters yesterday, with various areas set up with a tarpaulin on the ground, and a table and bench on each one. What was different was an item of unusual furniture in each area made of stainless steel and pads of red leather obviously designed to imprison someone in some sort of manor, and a collection of whips, paddles, ropes and cuffs found on the desk or hanging up behind it.

Even after what I’d done in the last 24 hours the sight of all this still made me nervous. My nerves weren’t settled as Sam led me through a curtain, and to an isolated alcove at the end of a corridor. No matter how confident I was though, nothing could have prepared me for the shock of what waited at the end.
“Brandon” I gasped.
My heart skipped as I was presented with the shocking site of my husband waiting for me.
“It’s OK” I heard Sam say, as she placed 2 reassuring hands on my shoulder.
“How did you get here?” I asked still in shock.
“It started with a phone call at about half twelve this mourning from your friend Sam there” Brandon said.
I looked round at Sam in shock, she looked down at the floor as Brandon continued.
“When I first found out you were at some sort of fetish weekend without telling me, of course I was angry” he said. “In fact I wanted to come over and drag you strait back home.”
I looked on, not quite sure what to say.
“Then Sam told me if I didn’t calm down and talk things through with her she wouldn’t tell me where you were, and if necessary she’d make you think you’d lost your phone to prevent me contacting you before it was over. Once she explained you’d not been sleeping with other men I calmed down a little. Once I’d talked about things more, and learnt more about how you were feeling I started to understand more”
He paused briefly, taking a deep breath.
“She asked me if I had any of my own secret desires, like the ones you’d struggled to fulfil. I realised that I at least had an outlet for some of my fantasies, where you let me cuff you and spank you sometimes as part of our love making. I thought about what it would be like for me if I didn’t have that outlet, would I be tempted to find another outlet elsewhere. I wish you’d talked about this to me more sooner, so I understood this was an important desire to you, before it got to the stage of you doing things without telling me, but I do at least understand why you did what you did.”
I stepped towards Brandon and threw my arms around him, and rested my head on his chest.
“I love you” I whispered,  a tear welling up in my eye.
He ran his fingers across my lips and placed a quick affectionate warm kiss on them.
“I love you too” he said. He took a deep breath before continuing. “We’ve still got a lot to talk about. I still wasn’t that keen on the fact you’d done stuff with other men. I feel a little better after talking with Bad Attitude and Caramel Mocha this mourning.”
“You’ve talked to them” I said.
“I talked to them before Breakfast this mourning” he said. “Finding out a bit more about what you did, and seeing how Bad Attitude’s and Dead Ringer’s relationship functioned helped quell a lot of my concerns. When we get home tomorrow we’ll need to sit down and discuss things in more detail. For now though, lets enjoy the rest of this long weekend we’ve got.”
He saw a slight look of concern across my face then. I had planned on driving back this afternoon.
“Don’t worry, I’m a paid attendee now” he said. “We get the use of this place the whole long weekend. I brought some extra cloths for you as well. I’m sure we can make our excuses to our bosses tomorrow, and maybe take advantage of the spa here.”
I hugged him even tighter.
“Thanks so much Sam” I said.
“Oh it was nothing” she said. She waited a couple of minutes while me and Brandon embraced before continuing. “If your ready we have a one on one set up I discussed with him last night. It’s why I had to rush you earlier, and why we’ve swapped your original second mourning activity for something with a later start. It’s something which should cater to both of you.”
I looked at Brandon and nodded. Up to that point I’d been so focused on my husbands surprise appearance that I’d not taken in the rest of the room. I saw the table on one side, with an array of messy items and whips and paddles on it, and a large chest against another wall. In the centre was the main piece of furniture, it was a table with black leather padding. One end was shaped like a large rectangle, with a hole where my chest would stick through. On one end 2 narrow rectangles stuck out where my legs would rest, just over the edge of the other end was a stand supporting a large metal ring. Across the whole table were numerous leather straps and buckles, designed to hold someone in place.

“So Nurse Bianca, I’m told you have some information of interest to me” said Brandon. “Let me introduce myself. Welcome to my interrogation room. I am The Great Bernard.”
“Awww, you remembered my favourite film” I said.
“Try to stay in character” said Sam, playfully punching me on the shoulder.
“Your work with the renowned Professor Yana has produced some specimens of great interest to us, I believe are locked in the chest over there. I believe you know the combination to the lock. Me and my assistant are going to strap you to the interrogation bench here, and I’m going to make you tell me all 4 digits of the combination.” Brandon, sorry The Great Bernard, continued.
At this point Sam and Bernard took one of my arms each, and removed my robe, and laid me face down on the table. The Great Bernard lifted the top half of the metal ring at the end up on a hinge, and positioned my neck in the bottom half of the ring, he then lowered the top half across the top of my neck and locked it in place. He then took a pair of leather restraints and put them on my wrists and clipped them in place at the top end of the table, while Sam was removing my shoes and was restraining my ankles down the other end. They then both proceeded to tightly do up the leather straps that held my body in place at my arms, legs and waist. By the time they were done I could barely move my body an inch. I felt a major wave of electric tingling come over my body, as my heart pounded and my breathing became audibly heavy.
“Are you OK?” asked a concerned sounding Bernard.
“Yes” I gasped.
“It’s Ok” said Sam. “A lot of people get overwhelmed when tied up like this.”
“It’s not happened before” said Bernard.
“I’m guessing you’ve not ever restrained to the point she can’t even wriggle around before though” Sam replied.
I was given a couple of minutes to regain my composure a little before Sam continued.
“Right I need to explain to you exactly what’s going to happen” she said. “Bernard you need to turn your back for this bit. It’s a variation on one of the scenarios suggested by the expert we consulted when buying the dungeon equipment. In that chest over there are 2 buckets of old smelly kitchen slops from upstairs. Not something you’d enjoy being covered in. To stop him getting them I’m going to lock the chest with a combination padlock, I’m going to set to the number you told me upstairs.”
She showed me the padlock and the number to remind me of it, before putting the padlock on the chest and mixing the numbers up.
“He has just under an hour left before Rebecca comes to collect you to get the number out of you, obviously you want to keep it a secret to avoid being covered in kitchen slops” she said. “There are a few rules you should both stick to. He should be trying to get the numbers one digit at a time, and once he uses a technique to get a digit from you he can’t repeat that technique to get more digits. He’s not allowed to try to guess the digits either, he has to get you to tell him all 4 digits. Your not allowed to lie if you reveal one of the digits. Also he knows all the safe words and signals if there is a problem, but you shouldn’t misuse them though to avoid having to reveal digits. Are you ready to proceed?”
“Yes” I replied.
“OK, well I hope you enjoy yourself” she said, before walking back down the entrance corridor.

Chapter 10:

“Good mourning Nurse Bianca” said Bernard. “Your going to make it easy on yourself and reveal the combination aren’t you?”
“No” I replied.
“If you don’t I’ll have to use one of my many instruments of torture on you. I have this lovely bullwhip to use on your back. I have jugs of cream and tins of treacle to mess up your pretty little body. I have this heavy leather paddle to spank your arse red. I’ve got cakes to mess you up even further.”
I felt the electric tingle of excitement passing through me grow as I lay there helpless as he described what was going to happen to me.
“I have bowls of rice pudding and cold melted ice cream and crops and canes to use on you” he said. “You could avoid all this, just by telling me the combination”
“Never” I replied.
“Very well then, let the interrogation begin. The first thing I’ll need to do is a very thorough strip search, to make sure your not hiding any secrets about your person.” he said. He picked up a pair of scissors from the table, I smiled in disbelief as he cut off every scrap of underwear, leaving me helplessly strapped to the bench completely naked.
In that state I saw Bernard take one of the barrels and slide it under my face at the end of the table. He then went over to the table and picked up one of the cakes in his right hand. He came over to me and took a grip of my hair with his left hand, lifted my head up and placed the cake on the barrel under my face.
“Now Nurse Bianca, Why don’t you tell me the first digit? If you don’t I’m going to shove your head in this Black Forest Gateaux. You’ll have all that jam, all that cream and all that sponge cake on your face and in your hair. You wouldn’t want that would you” he asked.
“No” I lied. With the tension running through my body there wasn’t anything I wanted more at that moment.
“I’m going to wait 10 seconds, and if you haven’t told me the first digit I’m going shove your face in it” he said.
“You wouldn’t dare” I replied.
I waited nervously, first looking down at the cake, and then closing my eyes as the anticipation built. I felt my head being pushed down. I felt the cool jam on my, then the texture of the cake and the cream. My head was firmly held in place for a number of seconds, before the pressure holding me down was released and I slowly raised my head.
“Looks like the cake wasn’t enough” said Bernard, as he dramatically swept the cake aside off the barrel on to the floor. “Perhaps we need something else to dunk your head in.”
He went over to the table and picked up a bowl. He brought it over and placed it on the barrel. I looked down and saw it was filled with rice pudding, with a thin pool of red jam on top.
“Ready to have your head dunked?” he asked.
“No” I smiled.
I took a deep breath as he took my head and pushed it down, and submerged my face in the rice pudding. I pushed against him, but he firmly held my head under it for about 5 seconds. I lifted my head and gasped as the rice pudding dripped down my face. I was given a few seconds to take a few breaths before he gripped my head and plunged it down again. This time he held my head under slightly longer before letting me come up for breath. This continued for the next couple of minutes, with my head being held under for longer, until the end when my head was being held under for 15 seconds at a time.
“I think that’s enough sticking your head in stuff for now” he said, dragging the barrel away. “Look at all that mess in your hair and face. You could have just told me the first digit, but instead your face ended up completely coated in mess.”
“You bastard” I smiled.
“What was that?” he said. “You can’t use a rude word like that.”
He responded by giving me an arousing firm smack on my bottom.
“Cock” I replied. He responded with another smack.
“Tits.” Smack.
“Pooh”
“Looks like I really need to do something to stop that potty mouth of yours” he said.
He went over to the table and picked up something hanging up behind it. I looked up and shook my head as I saw he was carrying a ball gag and blindfold. I put up a playful struggle, but was helpless to stop him strapping the ball gag in my mouth and blindfolding me.
“I’ll give you some time to think about what you did” he said.
With that I was left on my own, helplessly tied up, blindfolded and gagged. The only sensation I could feel was the rice pudding dripping down my face. The only sound Bernard’s occasional footstep. This wasn’t enough to distract from the electric sensation that had started to overwhelm me. If anything the feel of the ball gag heightened things as did having my site removed. I felt my heart racing, and my breathing got notably more laboured. I pushed against the restraints, but they held firm as my breathing got heavier and the sensation grew more and more intense until it completely overwhelmed me. I lost all focus on anything else until I let out a muffled moan as I orgasmed right there on the bench.
I was getting my breath back, as I felt the ball gag being lifted from my mouth.
“Have you learnt some respect now?” he asked.
“Yes” I said.
“Address me properly then” he said.
“Yes The Great Bernard” I replied.
“Good” he said. “So what shall we do now. I could gag you and leave you again, or I could remove the blindfold and continue the interrogation. If you want me to do that though I think you should do something for me, maybe give me the first digit.”
I shook my head, but very hesitantly.
“Come on” he teased. “It’s only the first digit, you’ll still have 3 digits to keep secret. It will be worth it for no more gag or blindfold surely.”
I hesitated for 10 to 15 seconds, I didn‘t think he‘d be able to get any of the numbers out of me, now I couldn‘t resist revealing the first one.
“Four” I said.
“Well done Nurse Bianca” he said as he removed the blindfold. “Now why don’t you make it easy on yourself and reveal the rest.”
“No way” I replied.

His next move was to head back to the table. I saw him pick up a tasselled whip in his right hand, and a large jug in his right.
“Perhaps some cream will make you more cooperative” he said.
“Maybe” I replied.
“I’m going to pour it over your back, and then whip the cream on your back” he said.
“Your basing your interrogation around a pun” I defiantly said. “I bet you were really proud when you thought that one up”
Despite my mocking he slowly poured the cream over my back and bottom, allowing cream to slowly spread over every inch off it, leaving a greasy feeling layer. I shuddered in anticipation as Bernard slowly circled around me, teasingly playing with the whip. He swung the whip and it hit my back with a loud crack. I let out a moan of pleasure as I felt the sensation of both the whip, and the splashing of the cream. I smiled as he walked up and down, eying my naked cream covered body. He swung the whip again. I moaned again, this time it hit with a more intense splash thanks to the fact the whip now had extra cream on it from the first crack.
“You had enough yet” he asked.
“Your going to have to whip me a lot more than that” I grinned.
“I’m going to make you regret those words” he said.
I closed my eyes and let the enjoyable arousing sensation take over my body. The whipping continued, getting more and more frequent, until it was a constant repeated sensation. I clenched my fists and closed my eyes even tighter as the excitement and pleasure got more and more intense.
“Your enjoying this aren’t you, you dirty girl” he said.
“Yes” I replied.
“Looks like I’ll need to try a different tool” he said as he placed the whip back on the table. “First though I think I’m going to get you really messed up.”
He picked up 3 items from the table and came over and held them in front of me. He was holding three tins of black treacle.
“Imagine what it would be like to get all this thick sticky mess in your hair” he said. “Imagine trying to wash all of this out. I think you should give me the second digit to keep your hair clean”
“You wouldn’t dare” I said.
“I’ll give you a countdown. You know what will happen if you don’t tell me what I want by zero” he said.
“Five” I closed my eyes and tensed up in anticipation. “Four, three, two, one.”
“Come on” I begged as he paused, drawing out the anticipation. I then shrieked as the treacle poured onto the back of my head.
“That’s really cold” I said. Not only was it cold, but it dripped across my head at a tortuously slow speed. I quietly giggled as it slowly spread down onto my neck, the top of my head and down the side of my face, slowly coating every part in the very thick and sticky black substance.
“Well that’s all your hair messed up” he said. “I think you need some rubbed on your face though.”
His right hand reached over and rubbed the treacle over my face, slowly sliding it across until every part of my face until just my eyes remained uncovered.
“Look, I’ve got my hands messy now” he said.
“Good” I defiantly replied. I saw him wash his hands with some water on the table.
“I think I need to punish you some more” he said, picking up one of the paddles hanging behind the table.
I let out a gasp of pleasure as the paddle firmly struck my bottom. I continued to moan as he repeatedly struck me again and again.
“You had enough?” he asked. “You know what I want to here if you want me to stop.”
“Your going to spank me a lot more than that” I grinned.
He continued to spank me for a number of minutes. Despite my bottom getting sorer and sorer I continued to quietly gasp as I felt a burst of pleasure with each strike.
“Looks like some ones not going to be able to sit down today” he smiled.
I was unable to answer, overcome by what we’d done.
“I think I need to work the rest of your body” he said as he put down the paddle, and picked up a riding crop instead.
My heart raced as he slowly paced up and down, striking me with the crop at unpredictable intervals, after a number of strikes he paused, reached out with the crop and slowly brushed my tits. I closed my eyes smiling as he continued to brush and pat them, audibly moaning with pleasure. Next he put the crop down, and picked up a chocolate gateaux off the table. He held it under my tips and let it lightly brush my now erect nipples.
“Looks like you need something on your sore areas” he said. “Do you want this lovely gateaux rubbed on your tits?”
“Yes” I pleaded.
He let the gateaux tease my nipples again.
“If you want me to do something for you, you have to do something for me” he said”
I shook my head, giggling quietly.
“It’s only the second digit” he said. “It would be worth it surely. You look very tempted.”
I hesitantly shook my head, but couldn’t hide the temptation on my face.
“What if I also soothe your back with the other cakes as well, that would be worth telling me the second digit.” he said, once again teasing my nipples.
I clenched my fists, trying to resist temptation.
“If not it’s bye-bye gateaux.” he said. “Say bye-bye to it” he said, slowly drawing the cake away. “Go on, say bye-bye.”
“Seven” I said, unable to resist temptation any longer.
My reward for giving in was a chocolate gateaux shoved in to my tits. I let out numerous involuntary moans of pleasure as he rubbed his hands across them, and teasingly fingered my nipples. I visibly panted as he placed the last 2 cakes on me, one pushed onto my bum, the other was dropped 2 feet and splattered onto my back. My heart pounded and breath got deep and laboured as I felt Bernard’s hands massage the cake over my body. First he rubbed the cake across my arse, his fingers coming teasingly close to my anus, he then slowly worked his hands up my back, then to my shoulders, then to the area between my shoulder blades. I lost all focus on anything else as I moaned louder and louder, until letting out an uncontrolled load moan as I orgasmed for a second time.

“You enjoying yourself?” Bernard asked.
“Yes” I panted, still getting my breath back.
“What have I got to change that?” he said. “Hmmm, you didn’t like getting cold from the treacle did you. What have I got something that’s really cold?”
I grimaced as I realised what that meant. Bernard was soon crouching in front of me, showing the large tub of chocolate ice-cream that was on the table. He removed the lid and teasingly stuck his fingers in. Some of it had melted into a sweet brown liquid, but much of it was a soft brown lump.
“Where shall I put it then?” He asked.
He took a small handful and pressed it down on the back of my neck. I gasped as he held the freezing gooey lump in place, pressing it on my skin as it slowly melted. He then took 2 more lumps and place one under each of my armpits, then rubbed 2 more small handfuls over my feet. I wriggled around with what little movement I had, shocked by the freezing temperature.
“Do you want to give me the third digit?” he asked. “Otherwise I can do a lot worse with this.”
“No” I laughed.
He responded by taking another handful and slapping it on my arse. I shrieked, my bum still feeling sensitive from the spanking I’d received. He pressed it down and I felt it melt and drip across my bum, and the lump melt down in between my two cheeks, leaving a cold lump stuck there.
That wasn’t the end though. He took another handful, reached between my legs and rubbed it firmly into my crotch. I tilted my head up and uncontrollably gasped as I was hit by two contrasting sensations. The extreme shock of the cold ice-cream on my crutch a complete contrast to the pleasure I felt from Bernard rubbing it. I thought I had a chance to recover as he removed his hand, but very quickly he rubbed in a second handful. My whole body tensed as my mind completely blanked out everything but the shock I felt. I clenched my fists in preparation as he removed his hand again, my body only allowing itself to relax again as he emptied the last contents of the tub over my back.
“Do you want to give up yet?” he asked.
“No” I said.
“Don’t say I didn’t give you an easy way out” he said. “I see your feet are firmly held in place, and I’m told your very ticklish Nurse Bianca. How long do you think you could last, longer than I can tickle them for.”
“Oh no” I grimaced.
Each of his hands found their way to my feet and enthusiastically tickled them. I shrieked with laughter as I my body involuntarily struggled around in the restraints. I desperately pulled against the straps holding my feet in place but to no avail. After what seemed like ages he left my feet alone, but continued to tickle me at the top of my legs, under my armpits and on the shoulders. By the time I stopped tears of laughter were in my eyes, I was a breathless hysterical mess.
“You had enough” he asked.
“Yes” I said.
“Bad news” he said. “I’ve not had enough.”
“No” I shrieked as he resumed tickling my feet. “Please stop!”
“You know what I want to hear” he said.
“Okay, Okay” I gasped. “But you promise no more tickling.”
“I promise” he said.
“Two” I gasped.

Chapter 11:

I was thankful after that as Brandon gave me a chance to recover, gently stroking my shoulder as I measurely breathed, allowing myself to regain some of my composition. At least as well as I could while tied up by my husband and covered in various messy substances.
“Do you want to make it easy on yourself and tell me the fourth digit” he asked.
He paused and looked at his watch before continuing.
“Want to know how much longer you’ve got to hold out?” he said. “I’ll tell you that I’m pretty confident of victory.”
I gave him a defiant look, while shaking my head at him. I looked at the table, that now had a lot of empty containers and used items on it.
“Looks like The Great Bernard is running out of ideas” I smiled. “It doesn’t look like there’s anything left you can try that will get the last digit out of me.”
“Don’t worry about that” he said. “I did my research on you Nurse Bianca. I’ve brought a couple of items especially for you.”
I looked over and saw him reach under the table to an area I was unable to see. I grew very nervous when I recognised an old biscuit tin we kept on top of the cupboards in our kitchen.
“No!” I gasped as he reached into it and recognised a black velvet bag I usually kept in my underwear draw at home.
Having gone into major detail about my love life it’s not a huge deal to reveal I have my own vibrator at home. I’d chosen a black lipstick shaped one, that came with a remote control. Bernard had used it on me himself quite a few times, although I’d kept it away from him since I lost a bet and had to secretly wear it to a dinner party while he had the remote. This had led to some very awkward moments where I just managed to keep my composure.
By that point my vagina was more than wet enough to make the lube he’d also brought unnecessary. He didn’t know that though, and rubbed a layer of lube on the vibrator, before inserting it inside me. I looked him in the eye pleadingly, realising what control he now had over me as he retrieved the remote and pointed it in my direction. I moaned as the vibrator pulsed. I lost focus on all else as my body tensed more and more. I moaned loader and louder as my vision started to blur. Then, the vibrator stopped pulsing.
“Please don’t stop” I begged.
“Do you want this?” he said, teasingly holding the remote just out of my reach. “I’ll swap it for the final digit.”
Every muscle in my body wanted that remote, but part of my mind still wanted to hold on, and not relinquish total control, maybe I could still hold out for  long enough. I clenched my fists, having to force my words out.
“No” I said.
“You disappoint me Nurse Bianca” he said. “I thought you’d have talked. At least I get to try out one last little plaything.”
I looked on as he went to the biscuit tin. I smiled as he pulled out a jar of nutella, one of my favourite treats from home. He took the lid of the jar, and scooped out a small handful. He slowly massaged it across my back, it felt beautifully warm and gooey and smelt heavenly. My whole body tingled with pleasure as he firmly rubbed the muscles in my shoulder and neck. This did nothing to reduce the sexual tension crying out from my body. Even when I thought I could relax a little Bernard surprised me with a short burst from the vibrator, tensing me up once again.
After several minutes of this my whole body was crying out for sexual release. Bernard went over to wipe his hands, he held up the remote again. I looked on my eyes begging him for what I wanted.
“This is what I’m going to do Nurse Bianca” he said. “I’m going to turn it on again, and this time I’ll give you a countdown, when I reach zero I’m going to turn it off again. Of course you can stop the countdown by calling out the last digit.”
I let out a high pitched gasp as the vibrator started pulsing yet again. My body pushed against all the restraints as my body tensed up.
“Five”
I let out a moan as my breathing got deeper and more laboured.
“Four”
I closed my eyes as my whole body felt electric.
“Three”
I grimaced, trying to will myself to cum. Unfortunately this tensed my body up, I wasn’t relaxing like I needed to.
“Two”
I took a deep breath, hoping.
“One”
I realised I couldn’t take any more, I couldn’t bare to wait any longer.
“It’s five” I shouted out.
I let myself go, allowing myself to be taken over, loosing focus on everything but the overwhelming sensation of pleasure. Without thinking I put my head back and emitted some of the loudest screams I’ve ever let out as I experienced the most emotionally intense orgasm I’ve ever felt.

It was several minutes later. Bernard had removed the vibrator, knelt down by my head and unclipped the wrist cuffs, allowing some movement in my arms. I’d grabbed his face and placed a long warm kiss on his lips, before my body went totally limp, with my arms round him and my head on his shoulder while he warmly held on to me.
“Well that was fun” he said.
I smiled, and lifted my head so we could make eye contact. I saw him let out a small laugh.
“I never thought I’d see you in quite such a state” he said. “Your even worse than you were upstairs.”
“Did you see that?” I asked in surprise.
“I had to wear a mask so you didn’t recognise me” he said. “At least until you were blindfolded and I handcuffed you.”
“Was that you?” I asked, my hand over my mouth in shock.
“They thought it would help if I’d experienced a little of what your in to before we got together and talked” he said. “I reckon it’s something we’ll be doing more of in the future.”
I placed my hands on his face and placed a long warm kiss on his lips. We lingered over it, before taking my wrists and clipping them back in place.
“Speaking of messes, there’s one more thing I’ve got to do before I let you go, now I’ve got the combination” he said.
“Oh no” I grimaced.
“Hey, if I go easy on you, you won’t try properly next time” he replied.
The face he mentioned there would be a next time brought a smile to my face. As for the kitchen scraps I had emptied over me and rubbed into my hair. They were cold, smelly and had some horrible textures. Potato peeling stuck in my hair with treacle wasn’t what I had in mind when I signed up. Really though it was a small price to pay for me and my husband being able to completely open up to one another, and no matter how horrible the mess was it couldn’t in any way diminish the immense happiness I now felt.

As Bianca is also going to tell you this is the last part of one long story that takes place over 48 hours. There is a lot here that will spoiler surprises and set ups from previous chapters, plus characters and other stuff you won’t know about if you start reading here, so my advice is to go back and start reading from an earlier section.
This being the last chapter there is a lot of character stuff to be getting on with. There’s the fallout from chapter 11, and a few other subplots to resume. There is some messy stuff though with a visit to a conference room and my entire contribution to the messy game show sub-genre, but the main bit is saved for the end. I was tempted to expand the conference room to a small scene, but it just didn’t flow on paper, plus it didn’t really do anything with any of the characters. I have read serials with potentially good story arcs, that have been diminished with too many distractions. I just hope I’ve got things right and that line doesn’t become ironic.
The messy scene from this one came rather late in the planning. I was thinking up possible attractions for Westbrook Manor. Originally Sam played a larger role in the scene, but as the story developed it made more sense to bring back Verona and Sorrento to fulfil the original role. I think the sense of fun comes across a lot better this way too.

Chapter 12:

If anyone saw me right now they wouldn’t believe I was the happiest I’d been for a long time. For those just joining, What are you doing? Go back a few chapters. This is chapter 12 of a 15 chapter story, “Spoilers!”
I’m currently fulfilling the role of a slave at a WAM enthusiast convention. The last couple of hours have been as kinky as that sounds, but usually that means I have all my activities assigned to me, making up numbers, and joining people who’ve signed up for a special one on one. The one grey cloud, I’d not told my husband I was attending, or even about my WAM fetish. That had caused me more upset over the weekend than I thought it would. With a lot of help from my friends though I’d finally been able to reveal this part of my personality to him, and we had just gone through one of the most emotionally intense sexual encounters we’d ever had.

We were currently sitting on a bondage bench in the wine cellar/temporary dungeon of Westbrook Manor, quietly chatting away. I’d wiped off some of the mess and put my shoes and robe back on, when we heard footsteps.
“Is that you Rebecca” I called out.
“It’s me” she said as she came in to view. “Are you OK? I heard from Sam there was some sort of problem with your husband.”
“We’ve worked out a lot of stuff now” said Bernard exchanging glances with me.
“Are you ready to make a move then?” She asked.
“I’m ready” I said.
“Do you know where Sam, Bad Attitude and co are?” asked Bernard. “We really should thank them properly.”
“You’ll probably see Sam this afternoon” she said. “Right now I think she’s tied up with her new man up in her room, so probably doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
“When you say tied up?” quizzed Bernard.
“I can’t give you exact details” laughed Rebecca. “Bad Attitude and Dead Ringer should be down here in the dungeon right now. We can see if we can talk with them. You’ll have to be quick though, you’ve not got that long to get cleaned up, and looking at you you’ve got a lot of cleaning up to do.”

We all made our way back through the dungeon. I wasn’t surprised to see Dead Ringer chained to a piece of furniture, gagged and covered in treacle and flour. You know 48 hours ago that’s a sentence I never imagined myself saying.
“I heard you guys worked things out” said Bad Attitude. “Actually, with the noise you made I reckon the people in the gardens heard you.”
I hid my face in my hand, blushing with embarrassment.
“Can’t we just say thank you, without you embarrassing us” said Bernard.
“Sorry, I’m just not that in to all the sentimental stuff” said Bad Attitude.
“Thanks a lot anyway you two” I said giving Bad Attitude an affectionate hug.
“Careful, your getting your mess on me” said Bad Attitude.
“I’d hug you too Dead Ringer, but I’m worried we’d end up stuck together” I said.
“I’ve got to ask” said Bernard. “Is there anything you two aren’t in to?”
“Plenty of stuff you probably don’t want me to talk about” Bad Attitude replied, “and despite what a lot of people assume, just because we both enjoy playing around with other people, we wouldn’t ever have intercourse with anyone other than each other.”
“It’s not something I’ve ever thought about before” said Bernard. “I suppose I’m used to the conventions of a monogamous relationship. It’s funny how the idea seems to appeal once you start thinking about it though.”
“Why don’t you help me with Dead Ringer here” suggested Bad Attitude. “I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”
I saw Dead Ringer give very much what looked like a shudder of anticipation and pleasure.
“You can stay if you like” I said placing a hand on Bernard’s shoulder. “I’m going to be busy getting cleaned up anyway.”
“If your OK with it“ he said. “I’ll see you this afternoon.” Bernard replied before giving me a kiss goodbye.
Maybe I’d been hanging around Bad Attitude and Dead Ringer a little too much, but I found myself a little intrigued by the idea of Bernard fooling around with Dead Ringer. I would have like to have watched, but after everything everyone had done for us I didn’t want to cause them any unnecessary problems by disrupting the schedules.

Much of the rest of the day went by in a bit of a blur. I was taken to my room where my gift hamper and the cloths Bernard had brought with him were waiting. Not that I had a chance to worry about them. Thanks to the high pressure setting on the shower I was able to rinse the treacle, and all the other stuff off myself and give myself a quick wash before getting changed into a clean nurses uniform just in time for my next activity.
The most notable thing about my last mourning session was the location. I’d been told a little about the conference hall in the bar last night, and was recommended I pay a visit after my time as a slave ended. It wasn’t huge compared to some of the conferences and exhibitions I’d visited with work, but there was more than enough to catch my eye. It looked like a typical conference with lots of stalls lined up and down several aisles, but many of the stalls were related to getting wet and messy. There were stores selling DVD’s and magazines and even a couple selling professional messy supplies such as gunge, pie kits and I also saw cans of the avalanche spray foam from my one on one yesterday. There were also a coupe of stores promoting WAM enthusiast websites, including one person I recognised from my own favourite site. Notably there were also quite a few stalls not directly related to WAM, selling a variety of sex toys and bedroom wear. I made a mental note that I defiantly wanted to come back here with Bernard when my time as a slave ended.
My slave duties required me to go on stage for a demonstration of the various substances sold by one of the professional gunge suppliers. I had a number of buckets of gunge of various textures and colours poured over me, much to the appreciation of the on looking crowd.

After this I was glad of my lunch break, to give me a chance to recover after my hectic mourning schedule. Dead Ringer came around for lunch again, allowing me to thank her properly now neither of us were covered in sticky treacle. This time we had a lot more to talk about, including a slightly bizarre comparison of each others bottoms to see who’s had been spanked the reddest. We also discussed some of what my husband had done to me, and what both our husbands had done to her over lunch and a box of chocolates from my hamper.
After lunch we were both down for the same activity, making up the numbers in another Pie-land games contest. This time we were playing “Do you want pies with that?” A load of MDF had been used to create a tacky looking game show set where we took part in a general knowledge quiz. We got points for the right answer, and wrong answers resulted in either a gunging or pie in the face.

Chapter 13:

It wasn’t until mid afternoon though when things got really memorable again. I was sat on my bed in a clean robe, wearing just a floral bikini underneath, playing with my tablet, which included exchanging messages and photos with Bernard as he was exploring the resort. He had promised to purchase a case of the avalanche spray foam and some packets of gunge powder for me. You may wonder why I wasn’t in one of my nurses uniforms. Rebecca had said a clean bikini would be more appropriate for this last activity. She had also advised me to make sure I had showered properly as ideally I should be completely clean to start with.
There was a knock and my door and I quickly sent a message to Bernard before getting up. As I opened the door I got a message back saying he’d see me shortly.
“Sam!” I exclaimed.
I’d been expecting it to be Rebecca on the other side of the door, instead Sam had come.
“Hi” she said. “Seeing as we’re doing the same activity now I thought I’d come to pick you up. Don’t forget your key though, as I won’t be around to let you back in.”
I quickly sorted my things out, and was soon walking down the corridor together.
“Thanks so much for what you did Sam” I said. “That was an incredible thing you did.”
“Well mum always says I can’t leave stuff alone” Sam said. “Plus I had a lot of help and support from others.”
“I’m still amazed that anyone would do something like this” I replied.
“Well it might not have been totally altruistic” she said. “It probably helped that you’re the best new slave we’ve had in a couple of years.”
“You’d like me back then” I said.
“We’d love you to come back” she said. “It would be a nice change from the problems we’ve had with a couple of the other newbies this weekend. I don’t want to pressure you though. It has to be a decision made between you and your husband. All I can do is make you aware of your options. It’s not necessarily a strait choice between regular attendee or slave. A lot of paid attendees still volunteer as a slave for one of the two days. Another thing to bear in mind is we always get female attendees asking to be paired up with a man to take a master role in a scenario they’ve got in mind, which is a role The Great Bernard could take if he wanted too, so it doesn’t necessarily have to be a one way street if you continue the one on one sessions you’ll encounter as a slave.”
This gave me a lot to think about. Me and my husband would have a lot to discuss when we got home. At least for now I could happily enjoy the rest of this weekend, and unlike first thing this mourning I was confident this wouldn’t be my last time here in some form or other.
“What have the other newbies been like?” I asked curiously.
“Don’t get me started” Sam replied. “Twisted Genius we’ve had no major problems with. We’ve had to calm things down a few times so he was OK. To be fair though a lot of the female attendees do get a little over excited when they have a male to mess up. It will take him a few of these weekends to get used to everything, but we can work with that.”
“What about the other two?” I asked.
She let out a groan of disdain before continuing.
“Two prime examples of the problem slaves we get. Fourth Angel is what we call a system beater. We give a lot of benefits to being a slave, because your doing a lot, and making sacrifices to make a better weekend for everyone. I always say though the best slaves are the ones who enjoy the role and would probably still pay to be in it. It’s pretty clear though she only signed up as a way of attending the event on the cheap. She’s spent most of it complaining that her boyfriend isn’t allowed to get more involved, or that there are activities she wants to do that she can‘t, or blaming us when she’s not ready on time for her next activity, even though all the other slaves can get ready on time without a problem.”
“What about the other one?” I asked.
“Pretty N Pink” she said. “Well we sometimes get young people turning up thinking it’s going to be all Saturday mourning TV gungings, and good looking people with whipped cream. Now she’s here she’s afraid of anything outside her narrow comfort zone. Maybe I’d feel sorry for her, but it’s not like we don’t send detailed descriptions and accounts out of what to expect before they sign up, obviously some people just ignore that. She’s so quick to give up, she won’t push herself to do anything. You compare that to last night when you were clearly nervous about the mud, but you were willing to find out about it, and give it a go.”
“How do you know about that?” I asked.
“I was watching on the CCTV” she said. “Not to see you specifically.”
“Why then?” I asked.
“You know that man you were paired up with. What did you think off him?” she asked.
“Caramel Mocha” I said. “He seemed very nice.”
“Well we got talking in the bar a couple of nights ago, and we’ve seen quite a lot of each other since then. I even swapped the rota over so I was with him for his one on one yesterday mourning. I was tempted to swap you over last night, but didn‘t want to come over too strong” she said.
“He did mention he’d met a new girl he really liked while we were talking round the campfire” I replied.
“That is one good thing about the situation with you and The Great Bernard though. Me and Caramel Mocha have spent a lot of time together because of our involvement. I was glad to have someone there to help me unwind after the stressful time in the dungeon this mourning” she said.
“Do anything good?” I smiled.
“Very good” she smiled.

Shortly after that we arrived at our intended destination. It was a large marquee tent, I was told is normally used to host wedding receptions and other similar gatherings. I paused as we entered as I was hit by the heavenly smell of chocolate. Like most girls, and plenty of men I know I’m a big lover of chocolate. Not to the point I’d say it was better than sex. Especially after this mourning. Right now I’d tell anyone who said that to try being a little more adventurous.
I looked around and this part of the marquee consisted of decorated round tables and chairs. In one corner was a café counter. Above it was a sign with the name Chocolate Heaven. On and around the counter was a beautiful looking range of desserts and chocolate. As me and Sam moved forward I discovered the source of the smell. In front of us was a waist high fence that surrounded a 7 metre diameter wall that enclosed a large pool of a chocolate coloured liquid. It looked like it formed a complete circle, although the back section was behind a curtain. In the middle was a 2 metre high tower, from the top of which the chocolate cascaded down the side of the tower into the pool below. Looking around the pool I saw 7 people lying in the pool, bathing in the liquid.
“Is that chocolate?” I asked.
“It’s chocolate cake batter” answered Sam. “It’s a lot easier to make that work. Do you like it?”
“It looks wonderful” I said.
“It’s our big new addition this weekend” Sam said. “It’s been a complex project. Luckily a couple of regulars know a bit about engineering and construction and volunteered their time. Even so it took quite a bit of effort to get it right, and that much chocolate batter makes it one of the more expensive messes to source. It’s a big indication of the growing popularity that we can afford something like this.”
“Are you two just going to stand there?” I heard someone call out.
We looked over and saw a table positioned next to the fence with some familiar faces sitting at it. Sitting there were Verona and Sorrento, Caramel Mocha and my husband The Great Bernard. Bernard indicated the seat empty seat next to him where a plate of chocolates and a juice from the café had been brought for me.
“I heard you two had a few issues” said Verona.
“It’s a long story” I replied. “We’ve worked a lot out now though.”
“We’ve been showing him around” Verona said.
“It’s a lot different to what I expected” Bernard said.
“I found the same thing” I said. “I didn’t expect to enjoy things as much as I did or meet so many great people.”
“We’ve met the person responsible for getting us in to this” said Sorrento.
“That’s not quite accurate” said Caramel Mocha. “It was before I took over as head of the entertainment division.”
“It turns out Caramel Mocha is from the family that own the theme park about an hour North from here. Our first messy experience was when I was somehow convinced to be tied up and have pies thrown at me as part of a charity event on a visit there” explained Verona.
“You enjoyed it in the end” said Sorrento. “You always volunteer to be tied up and have pies thrown at on the archery range.”
“Yeah, I almost enjoyed that as much as getting my revenge on you in the servants quarters a couple of hours ago” replied Verona.
“Do you two get messy very often?” asked Bernard.
“A lot at these weekends” said Verona. “The rest of the time he gets me messy maybe once every 4 to 6 weeks, depending on the circumstances.”
“Speaking of getting messy our time slot is almost upon us” said Sam. “Are you going to be OK here Great Bernard and Sorrento?”
“They’ll be watching their wives near naked and covered in chocolate” said Verona. “I’m sure they’ll be fine”

Me, Sam , Verona and Caramel Mocha headed to a door at the back of the marquee that led to the changing area. All I needed to do was remove my robe and shoes while Sam and Verona got changed. I saw they were removing even more than me.
“Are you two going topless?” I asked surprised.
“Why not?” said Verona. “No-ones going to see anything under all the chocolate.”
I found myself laughing naughtily, and decided I’d be adventurous and join them, removing my top, and putting an arm over my breasts.
“Something just occurred to me Sam” said Verona.
“What?” Sam asked.
“Well Nurse Bianca’s here as a slave” said Verona. “Yet this isn’t a one on one, or an activity where you need to make up numbers, so why was she assigned this?”
“We still assign slaves activities when all necessary roles are filled” said Sam. “We’ve had a couple of slaves here this afternoon now some of the activities are winding down for the weekend. One of the handlers did suggest swapping Bianca over with one of the other newbies who’s down for the dunk tank, but I didn’t think it was fare to reward their bratty behaviour.”

Chapter 14:

Sam led the way to the edge of the pool that was behind the curtain I’d seen earlier. Caramel Mocha was already waiting. Him and Sam smiled at one another. He offered a hand as Sam stepped over the wall into the chocolate batter. It came up to just below her knee. We all joined her, first stepping in, and then crouching down until the chocolate came up to our shoulders. It was warm and thick and gooey. I lifted my right arm above the chocolate and saw it covered in a thick layer of chocolate that clung on to my hands. We found that although the chocolate wasn’t deep enough to swim in we could glide through it by pulling ourselves along the bottom with out hands. Sam and Caramel Mocha went off together to the right, me and Verona went off to the left to where our husbands were sat.

I gave Bernard a suggestive smile as I slowly positioned myself a couple of metres in front of him, still lying face down, my head still above the chocolate. I deliberately raised my arse up above the chocolate so Bernard could see it glistening as the thick layer of chocolate slowly dripped off it, leaving just a thin layer of chocolate covering it. I held that pose, I could feel Bernard’s eyes scanning my body. I lowered myself back down and glided to the central tower. With my back to the observers I raised myself to a kneeling position, with my waist being just under the chocolate. I reached out to the chocolate cascading down the tower, took a handful and slowly rubbed it over my body, concentrating particularly on my back, hips, shoulders and neck. I took several more handfuls over the next few minutes, enjoying the warm sensation on my skin and the heavenly smell.
I then took one more handful and let it cascade down my breasts, before turning back towards Bernard. I saw him look on wide eyed at my torso, naked apart from a glistening layer of chocolate. I slowly moved closer to him, neither of us breaking eye contact with the other. I took several more handfuls of chocolate and let them cascade down my breasts and body, creating a warm comforting sensation as it did. With chocolate still dripping from my hand I raised it above my head, letting drops drip down on to my face, before bringing my hand back down and seductively licked the beautiful tasting chocolate off my hand, one finger at a time.
“Are you enjoying yourself Great Bernard” I called out.
He didn’t need to answer, the puppy dog smile on his face said it all. I reclined back in a seductive pose, my head still above the chocolate. I lifted one of my legs above the surface and slowly rubbed chocolate over them. I continued to do so with my other legs and arms, before taking a large handful, holding it above my head and slowly letting it pour over my face. I did this several times before wiping my eyes, my face now covered in chocolate. I then leant slowly back in the chocolate until my hair had also been dipped in the chocolate, saturating it in the thick mess. I closed my eyes and leant back until only my nose and mouth stuck up above the surface of the chocolate.
I spent several minutes enjoying the heavenly smell and warm sensation. I was then shocked as I felt a short kiss placed on my lips. I opened my eyes in shock, and gave out a child like giggle as I looked up and saw Verona’s chocolate covered features. As I sat up she knelt behind me and used her hands to massage my neck and shoulders.
“Look at their faces” said Verona.
I looked up at Bernard, I cringed a little as we exchanged nervous guilty smiles with one another.
“Well I couldn’t let those two have all the fun” said Verona.
I looked around at the other bathers in the fountain, and spotted Sam and Caramel Mocha in each others arms, rubbing the chocolate over each other, and exchanging passionate kisses with one another.
Verona moved around to my side and offered an arm out. I raised myself up from my reclined position to a kneeling position. We held each others hands as we knelt face to face, moving closer to one another. I giggled as I felt our breasts press against each others. Verona let go of my right hand and grabbed a handful of chocolate and rubbed it over my back. I reached down for a handful of chocolate and returned the favour, slowly rubbing the chocolate over her back. We rubbed each others backs until our hands found our way down to each others bottoms. Verona took another handful of thick chocolate, and this time held it above our breasts and let the chocolate drizzle down on to them. I glanced over at Bernard, smiling sultrily, before taking a handful of chocolate and letting it drizzle over Verona’s face, a favour she quickly returned.
“Are you two OK sitting their?” Verona called out.
I then giggled naughtily as Verona whispered her next comment in my ear.
“Well they won’t be able to stand up for a while.
With that she leant in and we exchanged a last playful kiss before separating a little, and reclining back down in the chocolate.

I continued to both relax and play in the chocolate until we were all called back at the end of our time slot. We were able to rinse ourselves off in the changing rooms, before going out to find Sorrento and Bernard.
“Did you enjoy that?” I asked Bernard.
“Very much” he blushed. “What about you?”
“Third best thing I’ve done today” I said. It had been that kind of day.
“I’m sure we can push it down the rankings still” suggested Bernard.
“What have you got in mind?” I asked.
“Well now your slave duties are over I can finally join you in your room” he said. “We should have a bit of time together up there. I imagine you’ll want to be back down for the closing ceremony, and hopefully we’ll have time for a quick visit to the conference hall before that closes.”
“Got anything in mind?” I asked.
“Some of the stuff you asked me to buy will be waiting down there. I also saw a range of flat pack dungeon furniture as well. I might pick something out to take home. After that and the closing ceremony I was thinking we could get dinner at one of the restaurants” said Bernard.
“I’m not interrupting am I” said Sam. “It’s just that the end of this last evening a group of us get together for a last private drink together in one of the log cabins. Us four will be there, as will Bad Attitude and Dead Ringer. We’d like you two to come along as well.”
“That sounds great” I said. “When is it taking place?”
“If you meet us by the lost property office in the main entrance hall at 12PM we’ll show you the rest of the way” she replied. “We have some spare torches so you can find your way back afterwards, or you could just do what a lot do and just crash in one of the adjacent log cabins until mourning.”
“Where were you meeting again?” asked Bernard.
“Midnight at the Lost and Found.”

Chapter 15:

On that note I shall end things. I could go on with stories of what we did that night, and even more stories from future visits to Westbrook Manor, but I think their best saved for another time.
Once me and The Great Bernard had both got home, to where he was just plain Brandon, we had the big discussion we’d said we’d have. It was a lot easier than our first talk in the dungeon. By then I think we both knew what we wanted and realised that just because it didn’t subscribe to the normal conventions of a husband/wife relationship, that was no reason not to do what we both wanted. I’m now continuing my roll as a slave at Westbrook Manor under the slightly modified avatar of Lady Bianca (so I don’t always have to wear the same costume) and the Great Bernard now acts as a master during several one on one encounters over the weekend, if I’m lucky with the scheduling they even let me watch sometimes. Don’t worry though, he always saves his best stuff for his one on one with me.

We’ve remained great friends with many of the people we met that weekend and future weekends, and are in regular contact with many of them outside of the conventions. In fact next month we’re invited to Bad Attitude and Dead Ringer’s (or Marvin and Patti’s) anniversary party. Verona and Sorrento (or Nicola and Tom) are invited as well.

Perhaps the biggest change though has been outside the conventions. Brandon now gets me messy at least once a month, and once a month we spend some time using the piece of flat pack dungeon furniture we picked out. Sometimes we do both at the same time. It’s not just our sex lives that have improved now, we loved each other before, but the intensity of the feelings we have for one other has increased immeasurably now we’ve both exposed every part of ourselves to each other.
It’s a bit of a cliché to say be true to the one you love, but now I truly realise the importance of it, as it’s only when you expose every aspect of yourself to someone that you can feel like you’ve truly and completely connected with them. If you take nothing else from my story, please always remember that.

I’ve been Nurse Bianca, now known as Lady Bianca, or if you prefer just Suzi. If you do ever pay a visit to a certain convention at a certain manor house, come over and say hi.

Hello Telly Gunge. It feels appropriate to say that now on what is my first story written and published here and not on the now defunct WAM story archive. The bad news it part of the Caroline Kronos series, what has been my least popular series.
For those not familiar it’s set in the same time and place as my Bianca’s Messy Awakening series. This section does get on to some major spoilers of that series, so you may want to read that first.
Fans of that series may well want to read this as it reveals some major scenes from the series that led to one of the most major developments in the story. Eventually it then gets on to a messy scene (if your not interested in the story elements feel free to skip down to the second line) between Caroline and her husband.
This is the last story in the Caroline Kronos series I’ve currently got planned, although I’ve left it open ended, so I may return if I come up with any ideas. I’m currently concentrating on a new long story I’m working my way through, although I also have some ideas for a few short stories I may also do as well.

Welcome back. Where have you been. It’s been some time. I’m currently attending a wet and messy fetish convention at Westbrook Manor with my husband. Activities so far have included pie fights, gunge tanks, publicly gunging a friend on stage, and a very erotic time in the dungeon with my husband. In fact I spent most of the early evening making good on a promise I made to my husband at the end of that session.
Once I’d finally let him go I’d changed into one of my more modest dresses. You might ask why Caroline Kronos would ever do that. Well as much as I love dressing up, and the attention that gets me I had been wearing corsets all day, plus I’d be sitting down for most of the evening, which is when wearing a corset can get uncomfortable. That’s why you’ll normally only ever see Caroline Kronos standing or lying on her back.
I was still wearing a noticeable black layered lace dress, but I was happy for this to be about Carol and Ollie spending some time together, and let Caroline Kronos and Oliver Wolf have a little break. Not that this stopped us getting to the resorts best restaurant anything other than fashionably late. Looking round I spotted my friend Sam, and her date, a new man she met who’d assumed the name Caramel Mocha, finishing of their main courses. I let them enjoy their date uninterrupted and let the waitress show us to our table.

One wonderful meal later me and my husband were walking into one of the resorts main bars.
“What can I get you beautiful” he asked.
“I’d like a sloe comfortable screw” I smiled. I couldn’t resist a little Caroline Kronos flirting at this point.
“Are you talking about the cocktail” he asked.
“For now” Caroline Kronos grinned, “but if you buy me one I’ll let you give me the other later.”
I let Ollie order my drink, and an American screw for himself. A quick scan of the room allowed us to spot a group of friends around one of the coffee tables. I was glad to see Sam and Caramel Mocha were still together, as were Figaro and his boyfriend Lampwick. Also there were our friends Bad Attitude and Dead Ringer who had a couple of blueberry muffins on the table. We went over looking for some intelligent and sophisticated conversation.
“There are adult cartoons that feature WAM regularly.”
“Name one.”
“South Park.”
“South Park. How do they regularly feature WAM?”
“Every episode someone gets hit with a trifle.”
“Do they.”
“They do. Then someone says; Oh my God. They spilled jelly.”
Hmmm. Looks like we’ll just have to settle for just conversation. By the way that jokes not my responsibly. All groans should be directed to the lover of pun humour Dead Ringer, that’s what we did.
“Seriously Bad Attitude” said Figaro. “Can’t you control your women.”
“Only a man who‘s never been in a relationship with a female would ever ask that” said Bad Attitude.
“He only gets to control me when I choose to let him” smiled Dead Ringer.
“Oh hi guys” said Figaro as he spotted our arrival. “That’s a nice dress your wearing. Did you forget to strip to your underwear?”
“Some of us can afford underwear worth showing off” I said. “You must be Caramel Mocha” I said reaching out to shake hands. “Don’t worry I’ll be nice, I’m sure Figaro already done his best to make you fell uncomfortable.”
“Would I do that?” asked Figaro.
Several of us exchanged glances and in unison replied “Yes.”
“So what do you do when your not hanging with us strange folk?” Oliver Wolf asked.
“Normally I’m head of entertainment over at the Northbrook Park amusement park” Caramel Mocha replied.
“Isn’t that the place Verona and Stephanie are always mentioning” said Oliver Wolf.
“I think so” I said. “So how did you get that job” I asked.
“It’s a family business” Caramel said. “I started off operating the rides and food stalls, but eventually I qualified for my current job.”
“Hang on, a family business, does that mean your surnames Northbrook” I asked.
“It is” said Caramel Mocha. “My real name is Andrew Northbrook.”
“So if you two do get married, will you combine your names and become Northwestbrook?” I asked.
“I prefer the double barrelled approach of Northbrook-Westbrook” said Figaro.
“You could call your child North-by” laughed Bad Attitude.
“I’m not copying a Kim Kardashian joke” said Sam.
“Come on” said Lampwick. “I’m sure they don’t want us discussing their personal lives all night.”
“Thank you Lampwick” said Sam.
“That’s not the only interesting news either” said Dead Ringer.
“What else has happened then?” I asked.
“Have you met the new slave Nurse Bianca yet?” asked Bad Attitude.
“I met her during the pie fights this mourning” I said.
“Well she was in here close to tears earlier” said Dead Ringer. “Turns out she’s not told her husband she’s here, or even about her WAM fetish. Coming here has really made things difficult for her.”
“What’s she going to do?” I asked.
“She says she’s going to talk to her husband Brandon when she gets home and tell him about it” said Dead Ringer.
“I feel really sorry for her” said Sam. “I’ve kept things hidden from a lot of people myself. I know how it’s difficult to tell people about things.”
“Hopefully Bianca, will get things sorted and she’ll be back at future weekends” said Bad Attitude. “She’s a really nice girl, and it would be good to have her around.”
“I’m half tempted to call her husband and tell him myself” said Sam.
“Be careful” said Caramel Mocha. “This doesn’t sound like the sort of thing where you can just easily interfere things better.”
“I can’t believe your disagreeing with her already” said Dead Ringer.
“Hey, I’m not a puppy dog” said Caramel Mocha.
“I do see an argument for calling him” said Bad Attitude. “It’s not a decision to take lightly though. Firstly are you prepared to take responsibility if things did go wrong and blow up in your face. Secondly how are you going to ever get him to calm down and talk things through with you.”
“What do you mean?” asked Sam.
“Well, I do fully sympathize with Bianca, and see why she did what she did” said Bad Attitude. “Having desires you can’t express can be difficult to deal with.”
“I know what you mean” said Sam. “I’m very glad to finally find a man I can share things with.”
“She has though indulged in sexual related activities without telling her husband. I wouldn’t blame him if all he did was get angry, and all he wanted to do was drag Bianca back home” said Bad Attitude.
“Maybe we could use that to make him talk, if her husband doesn’t know she’s here.” I said.
“He’ll know where she is as soon as we explain” said Figaro.
“Not here as in Westbrook Manor” I said. “If you were to withhold that information you could force him to talk things through.”
“Won’t he know where to come though” said Bad Attitude. “She might have given him some contact details in case of an emergency.”
“I don’t want to make you feel old darling” said Dead Ringer, “but it’s not like when you first holidayed without your parents anymore. Most people just use mobile phones now.”
“I could arrange for Bianca to be separated from her phone” said Sam.
“Hang on” said Caramel Mocha. “Lets think about this. If he doesn’t co-operate and he spends the rest of the weekend angry, knowing what his wife’s up to, your just going to make things 10 times worse.”
“Certainly I couldn’t really do that” said Sam. “If things went wrong I’d just have to let him and Bianca talk, and if necessarily excuse Bianca from her slave activities. I didn’t do as well in business as I have done without being able to bluff in negotiations though.”
“If we could convince him to come over himself tomorrow it could really help things” said Dead Ringer. “It would let him see exactly what it’s like, what it means to Bianca, and maybe destroy a few misconceptions.”
“Well if you convince him to come Sam we’ll be ready to help” said Bad Attitude. “Chances are he’ll want to talk to me anyway after my one on one with Bianca this mourning.”
“Don’t forget us” said Lampwick.
Sam looked over at me, Oliver Wolf, Lampwick and Figaro.
“Let’s get him settled in before we introduce him to some of the more eccentric characters” she said.
“What us” I replied.

It was that conversation that led to a flurry of activity later that evening and the next mourning. The schedules had to be re-worked to allow for the activities we arranged to take place between Bianca and her husband Brandon, and we had to sneak him into the resort. There was a bit of a panic when he drove down the drive as we realised Bianca might see that from the window of her room. Luckily she didn’t see anything, or if she did she didn’t have a good enough view of the car. Once there Brandon was snuck down into the dungeon where he wouldn’t accidentally run into Bianca. It had been decided that would be a good place for their one on one, not only did it cater to some of Bernard’s preferences but it would allow them some privacy to talk. It also helped that Bad Attitude and Dead Ringer were scheduled to be in the dungeon at around at the same time to keep an ear on things. Me and Oliver Wolf had been told we could come down and introduce ourselves just before breakfast. As we approached we saw Sam, Caramel Mocha, and Dead Ringer down there, along with Bad Attitude who was discussing possible uses for some of the messy items with Brandon. He’d even generously donated a few of the tins of treacle he’d brought along for his one on one with Dead Ringer.

“Hey look! Someone in the dungeon without permission. Someone tell Sam” Oliver Wolf called out.
“Oh don’t start” replied Sam.
“You must be Brandon” I said. “I’m Caroline Kronos and this is Oliver Wolf. We’re friends of theirs, and I met your wife during the pie fights yesterday.”
“It’s the Great Bernard now” said Bad Attitude.
“The Saint Bernard?” quizzed Oliver Wolf.
“No” said Bernard. “The Great Bernard is Bianca’s romantic interest in on of my wife’s favourite films.”
“Ah that’s sweet” I said. “Caroline Kronos loves Romantic touches like that.”
“Why are you talking about yourself in the third person?” asked Bernard.
“It’s some weird role-playing thing they do” said Caramel Mocha. “I wouldn’t get involved if I were you.”
“Hang on” said Sam. “I’m getting a text. Yep, Bianca’s been spotted leaving her room. Bernard you’ll need to put on that mask on the shelf there so Bianca doesn’t recognise you amongst the crowd in the ballroom.”
“We better go up separately” said Bad Attitude. “If she see’s us together as a group she’s bound to focus on us, or even worse come over.”
“Should me and Oliver go and distract her” I said. “We weren’t in the bar when she was last night, so she’s unlikely to bring the subject up with us.”
“That’s not a bad idea” said Sam.

We headed up to the ballroom. We were lucky with the timing and Bianca was just helping herself at the hot buffet. We strode over as quickly as we could without looking suspicious.
“Oh hi Bianca” I said. “How’s it going.”
“Not too bad” she said.
“I don’t believe you and Oliver have actually spoken yet” I said.
“Oh hello” she said. “Thanks for sending me those photos of the pie fight.”
We made casual small talk as I helped myself to an egg on toast with a side of fruit salad. I spotted Yvonne Ananka and Raquel Tejada eating breakfast with their husbands. I was quite happy to let them take the lead in the conversation. As they didn’t know about The Great Bernard being here, so weren’t likely to accidentally let something slip.
About 25 minutes later Michael from the events organising team came out to officially welcome everyone in for the second day. This included the first surprise we had in store for Bianca, and the rest of the new slaves as they were presented with their gift hampers, and took place in some entertainment where they had to cover themselves in porridge.
Knowing the circumstances I was glad to see Bianca win, as that meant she’d be getting the best of the 4 one on ones up next. Not unsurprisingly a lot of people went to greet Bianca and Twisted Genius when coming off stage. Even those who hadn’t been privy to the gossip could easily tell who was and wasn’t likely to get invited back as a slave from the performances on stage. This did work to our advantage as it let us congregate unseen at the back of the crowd, while Rebecca settled in and blindfolded Bianca.
“Are you all right Bernard” asked Sam.
“It’s still a lot to comprehend” he said. “I’m starting to see how big a thing this is for Bianca, and why she decided to come here.”
“All things considered your handling this very well” said Caramel Mocha.
“Are you sure your OK to do this one on one?” asked Sam.
“I think so” said Bernard.
“Try and make the most of this” I said.
“Afterwards we’ll make sure you both get some privacy down in the dungeon” said Sam.

We had been a little worried about what would happen next, but we saw Bernard put his understandable concerns aside to focus on having a good time with his wife. He clearly held her in a lot of affection as he slowly teased and pleasure her with the messy substances he had available. Judging by the look on Bianca’s face she was clearly enjoying herself.
A while later Bernard came over having finished his first session with Bianca. By that point a lot of the crowd had dispatched, or gone to watch cookery class about to start in the central ballroom. The other new slaves were also getting up, I heard Pretty ‘N’ Pink complaining about the mess the eggs and flour had made of her hair.
“Are you ready to head downstairs Bernard?” asked Bad Attitude.
“I’m ready” he said.
“I’ll be down with Bianca as soon as I can” said Sam. “Everyone else try to stay out of sight and stay quiet.”
We did as instructed and headed down to the dungeon. Once at the entrance to the chamber Bad Attitude took Bernard in the rest of the way for one last quick good luck. Once he was out we all slipped into one of the more private chambers where some of us could watch as Sam and Bianca walked past. We waited nervously, trying to listen for any signs of how things were going.

After what seemed like forever Sam finally came out through the curtain.
“That was intense” she gasped.
“Are you all right?” Caramel Mocha asked.
“I think so” Sam said, “and it looks like Bernard and Bianca are going to be able to sort out their issues.”
“We’ll keep an ear out on things while we’re down here” said Bad Attitude.
“Thanks” said Sam. “I could do with some time to wind down now. Luckily I’ve made a special order to be delivered to my room, and I’ve got someone to help me put it to good use” she said while squeezing Caramel Mocha’s arm.
“Your show room you use for business or your real room?” asked Dead Ringer.
“My real room” said Sam.
“Ah, she must like you Caramel” Dead Ringer replied.
“That reminds me” I whispered in Oliver Wolf’s ear. “The special order I placed with room services will be in our room by now. Why don’t we put that to good use.”

20 minutes later and we’d all gone our separate ways and me and Oliver Wolf were up in our room. My order had arrived, and a pair of bakery order boxes were on the table, and a number of red satin sheets had been placed over the bed and the floor around it. Well you wouldn’t expect Caroline Kronos to settle for ordinary dust sheets would you?
“Why don’t you go into the bathroom and take your suit off Oliver Wolf” I said. “I’ll call you out when I’m ready.”
While he did that I changed into my most visually imitating costume. A red latex corset and knickers combo, and a pair of black knee high platform boots with a 7 inch spike heel over my fishnets. As a finishing touch I had a riding crop, and a pair of red leather handcuffs with heavy buckles, but those weren’t for me.
“You can come out now” I called. “Time to be my prisoner for an hour or two.”
Oliver Wolf came out wearing nothing but a pair of red silk boxers. He offered no resistance as I strapped the cuffs on his wrists and secured his hands behind his back. He gave out a little shudder as I slowly circled around him, and then a gasp as he was helpless to stop me pulling his boxers down, leaving him totally naked.
“Come on” I said. I led him by the arm to the side of the bed, and made him kneel down on his knees. I then went over to the bakery boxes to examine the contents, lots of pastry crusts with deep cream fillings. I took 4 out, one by one and lined them up along the side of the bed in front of Oliver Wolf. I then lay in a seductive pose on the bed.
“Do you know what I want you to do now?” I asked.
“I have a fair idea” said Oliver Wolf.
“I want you to stick your face in all 4 of those pies while I watch” I said, “and if you don’t do it properly I’m not going to let you out of those handcuffs.”
He shuffled over to where I’d lined the first pie up. I saw him looking down at it and bursting into a quiet laugh. He went down, but stopped just short breaking into another laugh.
“Come on” I smiled. At the same time I playfully reached over with the riding crop to stroke his neck and shoulders.
He looked down again with a smile, took a deep breath and plunged his face strait down. His face plunged strait into the cream, becoming completely engulfed. I smiled as he lifted his head and the foil tray and pastry stuck to his face. He shook his head a couple of times until the tray fell down, and revealed his gasping face completely covered in foam. I found myself automatically looking at him seductively, licking my licks.
“3 more times you’ve got to do that” I smiled.
He gave me a look of intrepidation as he shuffled a little to his right to the next pie. I seductively crawled over to get a closer look. Now his face was already covered in cream he didn’t hesitate as much this time. After taking a few deep breaths he plunged his head down a second time. This time I was close enough to reach out and push his head firmly down into the pie. I playfully held his face in the cream for about 10 seconds before I let him lift his face up. I peeled the foil tray of to reveal his gasping face, and couldn’t resist throwing the pie strait back in his face. I rolled onto my back, and tilted my head back, looking at him upside down, as he got over the shock.
“Next I want you to turn your head and put the side of your head in the pies” I said. “I expect you to do both sides quickly, one after the other.”
He looked at me with excitement, before positioning his head turned sideways over the pie. Once again he took a second to compose himself, before plunging his head down into the pie. Quickly after plunging the right side of his head down, he came up and plunged the left side into the last pie on the bed. He came up quietly laughing, his head now thoroughly covered in cream, struggling in the wrist restraints that both stopped him cleaning himself, and kept him under my command.

With the first of the pies used up I slowly slid to the side of the bed to stand up. I stood up, and circled around Oliver Wolf, holding the riding crop out to keep him at a distance, while I used the full height from my ultra high stilettos to dominantly tower over him. After pacing back and forth a few times I went over to the bakery boxes and took out another pie. I seductively skimmed my tongue across the top of it, savouring the taste of whipped cream. I then crouched down in front of Oliver Wolf, eying his helpless naked body, deliberately taking my time deciding where to put the next pie, although in reality there was only one place it was going to end up.
I grinned mischievously as I pushed the pie right into Oliver Wolf’s crotch, covering his cock in a thick layer of whipped cream. I then reached down and rubbed the cream across it. Oliver Wolf closed his eyes, and a faraway look came on his face as he started to quietly moan. I looked on, enjoying the fact I now had full control over my husband. I grinned mischievously as I took my hand away, Oliver’s Wolf’s eyes begging me not to stop.
I had other ideas though as I reached for another pie. I strutted towards him as he struggled helplessly. This time I deliberately bent over at the waist, in order to fuel his desires with a view of my cleavage as I firmly placed the pie on his chest. I let the foil drop, and placed my left hand on his shoulder, and rubbed the cream in a circular motion across his chest, until it was completely covered in a layer of white cream.
“I want you to bend down, into a small ball now” Caroline Kronos said.
“Yes Miss Kronos” Oliver Wolf replied.
He crouched down, so his back was fully exposed while I picked up the next pie. I strutted over, where I towered above him, holding the pie above his back. This time I tipped the pie at an angle, and scooped the content out a handful at a time, resulting in a continued barrage of cream falling onto different parts of his back. The sensation of this has the desired effect and Oliver Wolf groaned with pleasure and struggled more than ever, desperate to be able to take charge. Of course Caroline Kronos opted to prolong things by getting another pie and dripping even more stuff on his back.
After that I put a hand on his shoulder to get him to kneel up strait again.
“I see your enjoying yourself” I smiled while looking at his now firmly erect cock.
“I so want to get out of these cuffs and get my hands on you” he said.
“What would you do with me?” I asked.
“I’d tear off your cloths, pin you down on the bed and fuck your brains out” he said.
“Sound like fun” I said, teasingly going around behind Oliver and putting my hands on the cuffs.
“First though” I said stepping away, “I’ve got 4 more pies to use up.”
Oliver shook his head, but was helpless when it came to making any decisions at the moment. I showed a little mercy by picking up two pies instead of one in order to speed things up a little.
“It’s been a while since you’ve been pied in the face” I smiled.
His face was still covered in cream, but I enjoy making him suffer a little. I held the pie in my right hand a little in front of him, allowing him to get a good look at it, before plunging it into his face. I held it there, twisting and turning until I slid it around the side of his face before letting it drop. I didn’t give him a chance to regain his composure though. I immediately hit him with the other pie I was holding, causing to reel in surprise a little as his face was engulfed in cream. This time after pushing the pie firmly on I left it there, leaving Oliver Wolf to shake it off while I picked up the last 2 pies. By the time he was over he’d shaken the pie tin off, but wasn’t able to open his eyes yet. I used this to my advantage, surprising him one last time with a pie sandwich to both sides of his head, engulfing his head in cream one last time. Once I’d finally done with that I crouched down and wiped his eyes.
“That was fun” I smiled. I took a handful of cream and rubbed it into his chest.
“So do you want me to let you go now?” I asked.
“Please” he begged.
I let my hand get lower until it was teasingly stroking Oliver Wolf’s rock hard cock.
“Now what would be more fun” I smiled. “Seeing just how mad you’ll go if I uncuff you, or keeping you prisoner a little longer.”
I drew things out a little longer, but I went behind him and unclipped the link holding the cuffs together.
Immediately Oliver Wolf had hold of me.
30 seconds later I was naked apart from my stilettos and stockings.
10 seconds after that Oliver Wolf was pinning me to the bed with his tongue deep down my throat.

It was about 45 minutes later. Me and Oliver Wolf were sitting in the Chocolate Heaven café, passing the time until our turn to bathe in the chocolate fountain came up. At that point my phone rang, the called ID showed it was Dead Ringer.
“Hi Dead Ringer” I said. “Did you make it out the dungeon OK?”
“Well I was covered in treacle and flour, and my arse was spanked red raw.” She replied.
“Sounds like you had a good time” I said.
“Yep” she said. “Everything went well with Bernard and Bianca as well. At one point Bad Attitude had to step in, when people were going to investigate why she was screaming so loud. Luckily he knows the difference between a scream of pain and pleasure.”
“I bet he does” I said. “I’m sure your looking forward to that later.”
“It’s happened already” she said.
“Really” I said. “I always thought that was the big disadvantage off being a slave. You don’t get any alone time until the evening.”
“Well Bernard joined us after Bianca was taken back to her room” she explained. “After a bit of time where I enjoyed both their attention Bernard let us use the private chamber him and Bianca were in for a quickie before Rebecca came to collect me.”
“Remind me not to use that particular piece of furniture myself” I said. “Sounds like with you and Bianca it seriously used goods.”
“O.K.” said Dead Ringer.
“So where are Bad Attitude and The Great Bernard now then?” I asked.
“I know Bad Attitude texted Verona and Sorrento so organise a meet up with the Great Bernard before him and me …”
“Spoilt the furniture” I said.
“Yes” she said. “I think them and Bad Attitude will be showing the Great Bernard round, although I know Bad Attitude will be there to watch me for my activities this afternoon.”
“Sounds good” I said. “Oh, it looks like our time slot for the chocolate fountains come up, so I’m going to have to go.”
“No problem, I’m due to be picked up for my next activity in 10 minutes anyway” she replied.
“Well see you later. Bye.”
“Bye-Bye.”

Note:  Fair warning, this is the first of two parts, and as such is altogether mess-free.  A heads-up to anyone unconcerned with context, you’re best off just waiting for part two.  For those who do like a little method to their mess, enjoy. 

It had been raining all morning. Brigid Oster watched rivulets run down the smudged diner window. For some reason, the constant rain made her feel claustrophobic, and that feeling was gnawing on her nerves. Although, to be fair, her jitters had a lot to do with the conspiracy…

Prying her eyes from the window, she glanced over at the prim-looking blonde woman seated across the Formica table.

“They’re late. Do you think they’re still coming?”

Cora Huff didn’t look up from the newspaper she held spread between them.

“We’re early.”

Brigid nodded rapidly, feigning confidence. She briefly inspected her perfect nails. Then repositioned her empty coffee mug. Then she went back to staring out the window at the forest of wet concrete.

“How will we recognize them?”

“We won’t. They’ll recognize us.”

Nodding again, this time Brigid saw her point. A cabdriver coming off a night-shift kept drifting off over eggs at the counter, two elderly regulars played silent chess near the door, and the teenage waitress was sweeping up by the kitchen. It would be hard to miss the pair of remarkably attractive women tucked into the middle booth alongside the big window.

She sat quietly for a spell, but within five minutes, Brigid was checking her small silver watch.

“Are you sure they’re coming? With the rain… They might…”

Cora folded down the top of her paper, gazing flatly at Brigid through her glasses. Thick, stylish black frames with subtle flaring at the corners.

“They’re coming. For what we’re offering, they’ll deal with the weather.”

As if on cue, the lone bell on the door rattled. A small, slightly waifish figure slouched in off the street. She wore tight, torn black jeans and a dark olive-colored army-style jacket zipped up high. Her hands were jammed in her pockets and her feet, hidden in heavy, wet boots, squeaked softly on the diner floor. She had rings in her nose and one through an eyebrow, and mid-length hair dyed pale purple. Her hair was pulled up haphazardly and, like her jacket, damp from the downpour. She shambled over to them and stopped at the end of their booth, cocking a dark brow over a blue eye at the seated women.

“Slumming it, eh?”

Indeed, between their appearance and general demeanor, it certainly looked that way.

Each of the pair was tall, and though Brigid was a shade taller, Cora cut the more imposing figure. Her blonde hair was tied in a pristine bun and sharp green eyes watched carefully from behind her glasses. She wore an expensive, but frill-less, tailored grey power suit over a gleaming white blouse. Her high-end wool pea coat was folded over the back of her seat. Attractive though it was her face remained professionally impassive.

Brigid on the other hand, while less immediately formidable, was easily the more beautiful of the two. Slender, but in a way that made her seem long rather than skinny, she was porcelain pale, but never crossed over to pallid. Poise defined Brigid, from her casually folded hands to the precise tilt of her head. Her face was rich with delicate features and perched upon an elegant neck. Strawberry red hair hung loose to her shoulders, framing hazel eyes that twinkled despite her nervousness. She wore her beauty comfortably, like a favorite hat; this morning, it accompanied mustard-colored slacks and a short fawn trench coat, which she had not so much as unbuttoned since entering the diner.

Cora laid her paper on the table.

“Please, sit.”

The new arrival pulled up a chair and placed it at the end of the booth. She sat down backwards, straddling the seat and planting her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her palms.

“So. You have something for me?”

Wrinkling her nose, Brigid shot a look at Cora.

“How do we know she’s who we’re here to meet?”

The young woman smirked at Brigid, waving a hand at the sleepy diner.

“This isn’t exactly my scene either, duchess. How about we get down to business?”

“She doesn’t… look right. Are we sure she can even do it?” Again, Brigid addressed her concerns to Cora.

The lavender-haired girl shrugged, unfurling a surprisingly winning smile.

“Hey, you want to find somebody else, go right ahead. Take this little job to the Shriners, see how far that gets you.”

Cora held up a finger.

“Your organization comes highly recommended. I’m sure you’ll be adequate to our needs.”

She turned away, taking some things from an attaché case beside her on the vinyl bench.

The girl stuck her tongue out at Brigid, who scoffed.

Cora placed a black and white 8×10 photograph on the table and slid it over. It depicted a short, pretty woman, who looked like she could anywhere from twenty-nine to forty-five.

The girl picked up the photo, recognition flashing across her face. For the first time, there was no hint of attitude in her tone.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Next, Cora slid over a plain white envelope. The girl picked it up, feeling the heft. She didn’t open it.

“Half now, half when the job’s done.” Cora waited for the girl to nod.

“The time and location are written on the inside of the envelope. Burn it when you’re finished.”

The girl nodded again, sliding the envelope into her jacket.

Brigid spoke up.

“What should we call you?”

“I’d prefer you didn’t,” the girl said with a sneer, “But my workname is Minx.”

She handed the photo back to Cora and stood up.

“I won’t be needing that.”

Noting Brigid’s skeptical expression, she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t look so shocked, even I’m allowed to pick up a little culture here and there.”

The girl calling herself Minx stuffed her hands back into her pockets and turned to leave, speaking to Cora and Brigid over her shoulder.

“Well ladies, it’s been lovely chatting. Next time we meet, I’ll be famous.”

She headed out back out into the rain, leaving Brigid to flash Cora a queasy grin. The girl was being sarcastic of course, but there was something of a ring of truth to her parting words. Their plan was coming together, and if it worked, they were going to make quite a splash indeed…

…

The next day, at the office, Brigid was sent on a coffee run. Nothing out of the ordinary about that, however, it was a very specific order, one which she recognized immediately. It meant they were having a meeting.

Brigid rushed through the posh lobby of the building where she worked, perfectly stable despite heels and the fruits of her errand balanced in a cardboard carrier. She tossed a perfunctory nod at the security desk, whose inhabitants knew her by sight, and made for the nearest elevator. The building had sixty floors. Her finger hovered momentarily over the button for the top floor, before pressing fifty-nine.

There were only three office suites on the fifty-ninth floor, and Brigid went directly to the middle and largest of them. She passed through the outer-office and past the empty reception desk; in the interest of discretion, the girl had been sent to lunch. Knocking carefully, three times exactly, she entered the main office. The glossy black plaque on the door read, Samantha Bogey – Director of Operations, Executive Editor, Vice President of Publication.

Brigid nodded to her boss, the Number Two for the entire magazine. Samantha Bogey was seated at her enormous desk. The lights were off, and the room was lit by the sun filtered through the large windows. The blinds were down, but tilted open, striping everything with shadows. Cora Huff stood at the window, watching the phenomenal view through the slanted slats.

Wordlessly, Brigid began distributing the coffee. She served her boss first; iced dark-roast, two sugars. Samantha accepted it with an easy smile.

Though she was nearer to forty than she liked to admit, Samantha Bogey was an attractive woman, and remarkably successful for her age. She’d entered the fashion industry as a young model, and despite never quite hitting it big, she’d fought her way tooth and nail though an accomplished career on the editorial side. Her aggressive, steel-trap mind was outwardly softened by supple curves and an angelic face. Today her long black hair was braided and draped over a red cashmere sweater, which brought out the warmth in her brown eyes. However, despite her efforts and unthreatening appearance, Samantha was infamous at the magazine, and in the fashion industry at large, as a brutal tactician and an inspired strategist. In addition to her official corporate roles, she served as enforcer and war-chief for the magazine’s current regime. And her last name was pronounced “Bow-jay;” any other pronunciation was uttered at one’s own peril.

Turning from the window Cora received her own coffee, tall and black, with a curt nod.

Excluding the small herbal tea she’d gotten herself, Brigid’s coffee-carrier had two cups left, steam curling from the lids. Samantha glanced at her computer screen between sips, probably checking the time. A hint of impatience played at her lips.

A moment later, there were three quick raps at the door. Not the main door, from reception, but one of the side doors, from the small corridor that connected to the office next door. The man to whom that office belonged was in Fiji this week at a shoot, but Samantha gestured at Brigid to open the door anyway. The woman who slipped inside wore a blazer over a brightly-colored paisley dress, sported a swooping light-brown pixie-cut, and spoke a mile-a-minute.

“Sorry I’m late. Had to duck out of a surprise lunch. Came in the backdoor just to be safe.  All present and accounted for? Is that for me?” The woman took her drink, cappuccino with a double-shot of espresso, from Brigid with a grateful shoulder-touch.

Marlowe Philips ran the advertising department for the magazine, and was also their best-kept-secret weapon when it came to backdoor PR. Though not exactly noteworthy in her usual environment, surrounded by models past and present, and positively stunted at a mere five-foot-seven, Marlowe was still undeniably beautiful, with big sapphire eyes and a perfect nose. In addition, her figure was quite well-endowed, which, given her advertiser’s eye for visual impact, made it certain she always managed to make an impression. She was also considerably shrewder than her bubbly and stylish exterior suggested.

“So. I see I’m not last. Have we heard from her highness yet?”

Samantha smirked.

“No, we have not. She may decide to grace us with her presence later, but we should get started now. We don’t have a lot of time as it is.”

Marlowe nodded, perching herself on a corner of the desk, Cora sat in one of the chairs on the other side, and Brigid took her place behind her boss. Samantha, ranking member of the magazine staff, as well as the instigator of their little cabal, began.

“Alright, where do we stand? The big day is this weekend, so we need to decide here and now if we proceed as planned, or call it off. Cora?”

The VP of Finance adjusted her glasses before speaking.

“It’s taken some time, due to the necessity for back-channels, but I’ve heard from all the right people. The money is in place. If we proceed, and are successful, the magazine will remain fiscally stable. Assuming any sign of overt orchestration is avoided, of course.”

“Excellent. And our contractor? Brigid filled me in on your meeting, but I’d like your take.”

“A bit on the scrubby side, but I think she’ll get the job done. I was prepared for the price to go up when she found out who the target was, but it didn’t. I think she views the high-profile as more of a shot at fame, or infamy, than a chance to cash in.”

Samantha smiled wolfishly. The predatory expression should’ve appeared foreign on so outwardly innocent a face, but it fit her features like a custom-made evening gown.

“Perfection. That’s just the sort of ambition we can work with. Miss Marlowe? Tell me your news is just as good.”

Marlowe shrugged.

“I would love to… Because it is. I’ve done my homework too. Some of the relevant voices out there think it’s time for a change, and most are ambivalent. As long as we avoid a power-vacuum, the magazine will retain all of its influence and considerable social cache. Heck, with a fresh-enough face, we’ll even get a bit of a bump among the youth crowd. One teensy caveat though. And believe me, I was discreet as hell, but a few of my contacts brought you up specifically… They believe you’re too, ah, aggressive to take the reins, publicly at least…”

Marlowe shrugged sympathetically, but Samantha waved her off.

“We’ve known that from the beginning. No harm in hearing it now. That’s why we’ve got Charlie; she’s always been the plan. And I would hate to think we’ve been putting up with her for nothing…”

Marlowe laughed and Brigid had to cover a snicker, even Cora grinned.

Just then, all four women heard the muffled click from the door to the outer-office. They froze. Momentarily, panic fell over the room. If the wrong person saw them all together now, the jig was up. Months of plotting, down the drain. Eight eyes were fixed on the door to reception.

The door flew open and a phenomenally gorgeous woman sashayed in like oiled silk. She wore big, bug-eyed sunglasses and was focused entirely on the smartphone in her hand. When she noticed the others in the room, she held up a finger, and turning, rapped three times on the door behind her.

“Oops. Almost forgot the secret knock.”

Brigid practically felt the ripple of sighs that ran around the office.

Charlie Dash put hand on hip and pushed her sunglasses up into her chocolate brown hair, which fell to her neck in a perfect shimmering curtain. Her eyes were pale blue and utterly disarming, set in a face practically torn from the pages of a textbook on art theory. Optimally tanned and toned, her body left her clothes, staggeringly high-end and several steps ahead of cutting edge fashion, completely outshined. Charlie offered them a luminescent smile which had graced more magazine covers than the sitting US president.

“Did someone get coffee?”

Dutifully, Brigid handed the last cup from her coffee run to the new arrival. It was an obscenely complicated concoction of soy, vanilla, and chai so difficult to remember that Brigid literally had it written on a card that she could give to baristas.

“Have I missed anything?”

Marlowe chambered a blistering reply, but Samantha stayed her fire with a small shake of the head.

“No dear, we were just waiting for you to get here. Do you have any questions about the plan? Any questions about your role in it?”

“Ah, well… Yes, ok, now what plan is this specifically?”

More than one jaw clenched in frustration. Samantha remained calm, her tone still soft.

“For the Spring Picnic, on Saturday. For our little surprise. The one which is the reason we’ve been having these little get-togethers. The one that will make you the new editor in chief of this magazine and ensure your social relevance for the next decade… That plan.”

“Oh, oh, of course. The plan for the coop. Naturally. I just have to /not/ go to the picnic, right?”

Samantha’s smile was only slightly pained.

“Precisely. It is very important that most of you are not at the picnic. It’s unavoidable for Brigid and me, but the less any of us are connected with the actual incident, the better chance we have of avoiding troublesome questions.”

Charlie cocked her head, finally sliding her phone into her back pocket.

“That’s really all I have to do? I just want to make sure. This is my first ever coop.”

“Coup…” Cora hissed.

“Who?”

“Coup. The word is coup. A ‘coop’ is a wooden house for chickens…” But before she could mutter anything about bird-brains or block-heads, Samantha interjected.

“What’s important to remember, ladies, is that we are very nearly finished with all of this dirty business.

“In the middle of the annual Spring Picnic, in front of the media, celebrity guests, and half of the magazine’s senior staff, our new associate will make a delivery. Two cream pies, quick and clean. Well, not clean per se… But you know what I mean. Then we just have to pick up the pieces.”

Charlie spoke up again, a flash of insight showing through her general glamour.

“And we’re sure that’ll be enough? Like, this is a pretty risky game, I just want to be sure we’ve got the cards to match the stakes. A pie-in-the-face is really going to knock /her/ off the throne?”

Brigid leapt at the chance to contribute something beyond caffeine.

“Actually, there is precedence. Back in 1982, while in Milan for a Fall line, the sitting editor in chief tripped into a fountain. Of course, there were plenty of photographers around, even a video camera or two. The coverage got into the papers and on TV back here; the comedy factor alone made it a huge fluff-news piece. The board decided the magazine needed to get past the incident, and she was unable to save face… She stepped down within six months.”

Marlowe tapped her nose deviously.

“And can you imagine how much faster things would have moved if the internet been around back then? Between social media and the national appetite for celebrity embarrassment, heck, she’ll be out by the end of the week.”

Samantha grinned grimly.

“My estimate is closer to ninety days.” She raised her coffee in a toast, and the others followed suit.

“So get ready ladies, because in less than forty-eight hours, our little caper will go down. And then Vague Magazine will be ours for the taking.”

…

I’m going to start this off with a disclaimer. Yes, I know the majority of the people who will read this are decent people. This post is not made with the intention to accuse anyone of harassment, nor to say “stop having your little bit of fun”.

So recently there was a discussion on UMD about the ethics of posting found content, and it dredged up quite a few points I feel are worth discussing here. If you’re interested in seeing them (and possibly even joining in the discussion), click the link below. Just note that there is a lot lurking beyond…

If you’re reading this, then you’ve either clicked the link on the TellyGunge main page, or followed some external link. Good on ya! Now without further ado, let’s get to the first topic.

The issue of shame

There are people out there who are straight-up scared of posting finds because of what might happen to the people involved. I would by lying if I said that I never thought “what if the person finds out about us?” whenever I post something (story or find), especially since the Fiona Bruce incident. I also find the idea that people would act like creepy, entitled gits towards anyone horrible, especially when abuse happens because for whatever reason the victim got gunged/pied/put in a bean bath/whatever for innocuous reasons, and that happens to be the git’s fetish.

At the same time, I don’t feel ashamed for liking WAM. I don’t think anyone should, especially since the creeps do not speak for the decent people. Yes, they are damaging to the community’s reputation, but from personal experience, simply being an honest WAMmer doesn’t make you a social pariah. Maybe I’m just lucky in that I know quite a few people with open minds.

Let’s also not overlook that such creepy, entitled behaviour is not unique to WAMmers – while it’s a problem in the WAM community, it’s not a problem with the WAM community. It’s a problem with awful people, some of whom are in the WAM community.

To me, nothing good is ever going to come of the community being afraid of itself. We do need to be more open about who we are, and if you are open about it without being a harasser, that’s good. We should be leading by example, showing the other WAMmers how to make the community look good, and showing the rest of the world that most of us are just normal people with an unusual turn-on. I know it will take a lot more than simply being good, open people, but it’s a good starting point. I also don’t have a problem with feeling reserved about the topic – that’s a good thing in certain circumstances, and it’s not the same thing as feeling ashamed about it.

Found content

This is the reason TellyGunge even exists, so it would be hypocritical of me to say that posting found content isn’t okay. As such, I’m not going to say that. However, this is the very subject that got UMD to even have their discussion, so it needs bringing up.

We all know what found content is – it’s any kind of photographic or video footage of a person getting messy that’s posted to a WAM site by someone not directly involved in its creation or initial distribution. Every piece of found content can be separated into three categories: civilian, celebrity and splosher. Splosher content is anything made by WAMmers, for WAMmers. Celebrity content is any kind of content that features a known media personality getting messy. Civilian content is anything that doesn’t fit either category. Each one should be approached differently.

Personally, my approach is as follows:

Splosher content: This generally doesn’t get a look-in for two main reasons. First of all, that’s not what TellyGunge is about. We’re all about the civilian and celebrity content, and a lot of people on here are either members of sites that do cater to that demand, or just don’t go on them. Second, it’s basically porn, or at least that’s how I view it. Since porn (outside of fiction) isn’t allowed by the site rules, I don’t post it. I suppose if it’s technically SFW, I don’t have a problem with other people posting it though, but then I guess that’s an invitation for producers to advertise (to which I’d refer you to the first reason I don’t post splosher content finds – those of us who care already browse other sites).

Celebrity content: When I find it, I post it. Usually, the whole idea is that it’s supposed to be circulated to generate views and thus revenue. If it’s from a news article then I post the article. We get the messy content, they get the views. That only seems fair to me.

Civilian content: If it’s available via public channels, then it’s fair game to me. I would define these as television (including catch-up/on-demand services), YouTube videos that aren’t flagged as private, and other social media outlets or web spaces intended for self-promotion. This is opposed to a web space intended for personal use.

For example, let’s take metal singer Alissa White-Gluz. Admittedly, she’d fall in the “celebrity” category, but that’s why I’m using her as an example. She has at least three Facebook pages – one for Arch Enemy (the band she’s currently in, which she shares with her bandmates and most likely their management), one for her music and public activity outside of Arch Enemy, and one for her to keep in contact with music industry contacts and personal friends. Other musicians have a similar setup, even the ones who aren’t anywhere near the level of success of her.

If Alissa wasn’t a celebrity already, I would say that stuff posted on her band’s page or her non-Arch Enemy public page would be fine. Anything that’s on her personal page would not, and neither would a link to that personal page.

I would also say that information about her would be off-limits. This would go for any civilian. While it’s still terrible behaviour, celebrities know and accept that they are going to receive messages from total weirdos. Civilians do not. Civilians also do not have the luxury of having someone to run their social media for them who can just delete the offending messages without the intended target ever reading them. At most, a first name or pseudonym would be acceptable. Contact information of any kind would also be off-limits for anyone unless the person in question is the one posting it.

“But Alissa isn’t actually a celebrity! You’re probably the only person on here who’s heard of her!” you might say. Well, that segues us to the next issue nicely.

Who counts as a “celebrity”?

First we need to declare what counts as a celebrity. To me, that should be as simple as going onto Google and putting in “define:celebrity”. This nets you with the following: a famous person, especially in entertainment or sport. Obviously in order to be famous you need fame. The definition of fame isn’t great either: the state of being known by many people. How many is “many” exactly? How are we measuring how known they are?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m aware of ideas of ways fame can be quantitatively be measured, but I don’t think such a method would work. Let’s say we measure fame using a number of search results. Without a certain number of results, you don’t count as a celebrity. How would one decide the number?

For a few examples, consider Tulisa, Holly Willoughby, Amy Lee, Tarja Turunen and Kirsty Gallacher. Using search results, you can establish a heirarchy of fame. Try it out if you want. You may be surprised.

When I tried it, I ended up with a result saying that Amy Lee is over 59 times more famous than Holly Willoughby. She’s about three times as famous as Tulisa, who is slightly more famous than Tarja Turunen, who is over twice as famous as Kirsty Gallacher. I don’t think anyone expected that outcome. If I was to guess why Tarja beats Kirsty, I suppose it’s because a former singer of a metal band with a global fanbase would be more popular than someone who reports on sports for an exclusively British audience. Tulisa narrowly beats Tarja because while her music (and let’s just say “other products”) only caught on in Britain and she’s unknown elsewhere, it’s got a bigger mass appeal than Tarja’s. Holly beats Tulisa, Tarja and Kirsty since she’s a general TV personality, and has worked in multiple shows for a number of years, whereas the rest are (for the most part) known for doing one thing – singing in a particular genre in two cases, and reporting on sports for the other. I’m not sure how to explain Amy soundly whalloping the everyone, though!

Still, not only would a lot of discussion be needed to decide the line, but certain people who are only famous in certain locales would need to be omitted altogether simply because their global fame isn’t high enough to cross the line, or because what they’re famous for is only a niche market. The alternative is that the bar is set too low and anyone can be justifiably be called a “celebrity” when they clearly aren’t. The five examples also suggest that there could also be anomalies within that system of measurement. Yet, without an objective measure, there’s no definitive answer of who actually counts as a celeb, and who’s a civilian. This in turn affects how we write stories about them, present our finds and discuss both.

Dealing with creeps

I’ve saved this for last since it’s the most difficult part to fix. Considering the difficulty of the celeb/civvy dichotomy, that’s saying something. Difference is, this directly affects people’s lives, whereas the dichotomy would only indirectly affect it.

We don’t want to enable the creeps, of course, and that can be curtailed to a large extent with the measures suggested in the last two parts. As for the rest, this should be as simple as reporting them and letting the moderation team on whatever site deal with it. On here it would be that simple, but thankfully we’re rather devoid of that behaviour on here. I also have full faith in the people who run places such as ECG and WAFL so… yay us?

However, I do know that it’s not that simple. Twitter’s report system is a joke. YouTube is basically devoid of human beings running things. UMD is rampant with creeps which their mods are fully aware of. It’s quite apparent that in places like that, simply being vigilant and reporting doesn’t work when it should. It doesn’t help that victims tend to delete their content rather than just block and report, but I sympathise with them when they’ve become the unwitting wank material for a bunch of strangers. On the other hand, pretty much everything is someone’s fetish, and every fetish has creeps so what can you do?

I suppose part of it is that I don’t think the creeps are technically breaking any laws. If I’m wrong on that, then these people are criminals. There are ways of finding people. I’m not saying that to make you feel scared, it’s a statement of fact. If they are criminals, they can be caught and prosecuted. The police would need to be involved. However, there’s not even a uniform set of procedures regarding the police response to online harassment across this country yet, as far as I know, so whether they’d do anything is questionable. Still, they definitely wouldn’t if they didn’t know (and if the creeps are breaking the law), and they’re at least supposed to do something.

Of course, if I’m right that the creeps aren’t breaking the law, then we have a bigger problem whereby they can be scummy and get away with it because the only people who could do something about it aren’t doing so. That is ethically negligent to me. My answer to that would be to make a space of some kind where examples of non-criminal harassment from WAMmers can be shared and published by anyone. It would have to be ran by WAMmers though, to make the point that we are not the problem, and are on the same side as the victims.

Oh, and WamChat needs some moderators. That would help a bunch.

Wrapping this up

We’re in a world where people are more open-minded about kink than ever. Fifty Shades of Grey is a successful book series about BDSM, with a film adaptation in cinemas as I’m writing this. Meanwhile, WAMmers are ashamed of what they are, and a big part of that is because of a few idiots who don’t truly represent us. We need to embrace who we are, and eschewing our worst elements will be a great step towards that. TellyGunge is a very lucky community in that we don’t seem to have many bad eggs, so we’re in a great position to lead by example. We are “the free and open blog about messy ladies” (emphasis mine) after all.

All we need to do is take a fairly common-sense approach towards our finds and stay decent. The only issue is deciding whether or not certain content is civilian or celebrity, and I’d imagine in 99% of cases it’s self-evident.

If anyone’s got anything to add, or has their own thoughts on how the WAM community can present itself as actually decent people rather than the creeps that it’s so associated with, feel free to leave a comment.

SO sorry that this has taken so long to come out!

——

The two teams enjoyed a quick shower, and sat around backstage waiting for the next part of the show. “I need to know something,” said Erin to her teammate. “When you said I’m more than just pretty or whatever…”

Carlota’s gaze pierced into Erin’s very soul. “You proved yourself to be capable of doing more than just gussying up and partying. You also managed to guess an answer to a question correctly.”

“So does that mean you’re going to treat her better?” asked Tanya, her deathly glare undermined somewhat by the pair of pigtails she was now sporting.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying that you’re not functioning as a team, which bears ill omen for you in a game based around teamwork.”

Helen cleared her throat. “The emo lady is correct. The way the mechanics of this game work seem to suggest that the best way to win is to function as a team, based on what has come before us thus far. Were a team to finish in the top two places in the last round, they would score one hundred points, which is fifty points above the absolute maximum that another team could score. Now, I believe that the teams have been assigned without our preferences even factoring into them. Rather, there is some anonymous adjudicator who has decided to pair us up based on other factors.”

Carlota seethed internally about Helen’s rather loquacious interjection. Just what did this nerd hope to achieve by ranting at her? Still, the part about an anonymous adjudicator raised an eyebrow. “What other factors?”

“I am a scholar and Victoria is a sportswoman. The red team are an emo lesbian and a shy, yet rather attractive woman.” Niamh blushed at Helen saying she was attractive. “As for the blue team, one’s a tough no-nonsense muscular woman and the other defines herself by her frivolous hobbies,” Helen explained, before looking to Erin and adding, “No offence.”

“Your assertion is fascinating, but has one rather glaring factual error: I am not ‘emo’,” said Tanya.

“Regardless of the subculture you identify with, you do see that the teams have been arranged specifically to create a clash of opposing personalities, correct?” asked the skinny yellow.

“Indubitably!” Victoria laughed, tying her blonde hair into a tight ponytail. Tanya and Helen stared at her. “I’m kidding! You’re both overthinking this. It’s just a fun little game show.”

Just then, the familiar Welsh-accented tones of Natalie Orwell broke the conversation. The blue-haired woman stood over the players and said “If it’s such fun, I think you should go back to the set. We’re ready to start shooting part three.”

——

Nicki and Suzi were sat by a huge pool of gunge. The former was cross-legged whereas the latter had her legs stretched out. “Welcome back the Pairing Game. We’re here in the Elimination Enclosure, having a look at the fate that’s going to befall one of the teams after the next game,” said Suzi.

“We’re not going to give too much away, but when a team ends up out of the game, they end up in this massive pit!” Nicki grinned as the camera moved, showing just how big the gunge pool was. It was about 10 metres across and in the shape of an octagon. On the opposite side to the two hosts was some kind of rail track, leading towards a long, pitch black tunnel. The gunge inside the tank was an elaborate mix of colours too, from murky greens and browns, to pastel pinks. and bright blues.  “I dare ya to dip your feet in there, Suzi!”

The brunette presenter bit her bottom lip. “Alright,” she said, shuffling forwards precariously. She lowered her feet into the pool and gently prodded the top of the gunge with her soles, leaving behind a pair of footprints on the top. “This is so thick!” Suzi said, eyes wide with surprise.

“Really get them in there!”

Suzi forced her feet into the gunge. It made some kind of slurping noise as it forced its way around her pretty little feet, between her toes and over the tops. “Oh g-god,” she shivered as the gunge lapped around her ankles. “You need to f-feel this for yourself, N-Nickster!”

The redhead smirked and grabbed onto her right bootlaces. “Should I?” she asked as the crowd cheered. Nicki shrugged her shoulders and undid the laces, before undoing the ones on her left boot. She pulled her boots off, followed by her socks, which she promptly stuffed in the boots. She shuffled forwards, a wry grin on her face, and held her feet over the gunge. Then, all of a sudden, she turned away and picked her boots up, rising to her feet. “Nah, I don’t wanna! Plus, we’ve got more important things to do, like settle who’s going in that stuff!”

The crowd booed as Suzi pouted as she swung her legs through the goo. “Someone get me a frickin’ towel.”

Nicki walked along the rails and back to the main set, sitting down momentarily. “Our next game is called Horad of the Rings, and since each player on each team does a different job, Suzi’s going to need some help,” she said as she passed her boots and socks to a stagehand, who in turn passed her a microphone. The ginger presenter headed for the studio audience. “And you know what, audience? If you want to see yet another gungee in tonight’s show, how about one of you volunteers?” she smirked. “Let’s see some hands up, yeah?”

A group of three women were sat in the front row. They were all dressed in fairly similar attire – white blouses and grey trousers. One of them was next to the aisle, and she had short blonde hair and heavy make-up, though looking closer at her she seemed to be a bit older than the rest. Next to her was a dark-skinned twentysomething with shoulder-length straight black hair and deep brown eyes. She had a rather nice body – thin, but not too skinny, and with a nice ample chest. Finally, there was a chubby woman with short red hair and green eyes. The blonde and the redhead looked to the one in the middle and smiled. “What?” said the one in the middle, quietly. “You think I should?”

“We dare you, Asha!” said the blonde.

“You’ll get to be on TV! Consider it a birthday treat,” added the redhead.

The twentysomething blushed and raised her hand into the air. There was no getting past the eager grins of her two friends. Nicki caught the hand’s ascent in the corner of her eye. “Ah, you seem eager! Stand up” she said, walking over. “What’s your name?”

The black-haired woman stood up and walked into the aisle, her heavily made-up friend standing out of her way. “I’m Asha,” the volunteer said, laughing nervously.

“Charmed,” Nicki said, looking the girl up and down. “I would ask you to remove your shoes, but I see you already have.” The camera panned down to show Asha’s bare feet. Her toenails unpainted but shiny nevertheless. She tried adjusting the camera to hide them from view, but the camera returned to its shot of the two women’s faces. “So, are you ready to get messy with Suzi?”

“I’d rather it was you, but sure!” said Asha, smiling cheekily.

“I’m not violating the part of my contract that says I don’t get messy! Now come on!” Nicki grabbed Asha’s right wrist and walked her over to the game area. Stage right, there was a large inflatable pool of gunge with what appeared to be large plastic toy hoops floating on the top. Next to it was a pair of walls, separating the game area into thirds until around the middle, where there was an open area. On the other side of it was another set of walls, along with three large poles. The floor was covered with multi-coloured gunge, with no particular pattern. “You might want to roll your trouser legs up,” Nicki suggested as she turned to face the camera. “This next game is Hoard of the Rings, and it’s a pretty critical one as one of our teams will be eliminated after it. The blues are trailing on fifty points, but they’re only just behind the reds at seventy and the yellows at eighty. Anything could happen, but we’ll have Suzi and Asha show you what.”

Suzi walked onto the stage as Nicki left, carrying a hoop. “I hope you’re good at catching, Asha!” she smiled. “What’s going to happen is that each team is split into two roles. Erin, Tanya and Victoria will be rooting through the vat and pulling out these rings,” she said as she walked over to the vat. She stepped into the game area where Natalie put her into some kind of harness attached to a cord. “Once they have a ring – and I must stress that it has to be one ring, they have to run up the runway and throw it to their teammate.”

Over on the other side. Asha had taken Nicki’s advice and rolled the legs of her trousers up. She took a deep breath and bravely placed her right foot into the gunge, sole first. Feeling the gunge engulf her foot was an oddly pleasant sensation, as the gunge was actually rather warm and thick. She put her left foot in, then crouched down and ran her left hand fingers through her hair, and her right hand through the gunge. It felt sort of nice, like a good custard only without a skin on the top. Her curiosity satiated, Asha stood up and wiped her fingers clean on her blouse – chances were that was going to get messy soon anyway.

“Here I come!” Suzi called out. She did a little hop so that her feet were out of the gunge, then ran up the path, her slimy soles slapping on the surface of the sludge. She threw the hoop to Asha, before getting yanked backwards and pulled butt-first through the goo. The ring didn’t look like it was going to reach its target, so Asha jumped forwards, towards the open part of the play area.

The plucky volunteer grabbed the ring with both hands and put it around her neck, before entering the foetal position. Curled up, Asha hit the gunge in the open area feet first and sank downwards, unaware that the middle was deeper than the sides. She sprang up, covered in colourful gunge, the ring floating in the ooze around her waist. She smiled with some embarrassment. “You never said it was deep!” she called out.

“You never asked!” Suzi giggled, standing up while Natalie helped her out of the harness. “You should be able to just walk up to the pole and place the ring on it, though.” Sure enough, Asha waded though the gunge and stepped up to her runway. She lifted the ring with her right foot, then grabbed it in her right hand and placed it over a large pole, about two metres high and fairly thin. She gave a little bow as the audience cheered. Suzi walked over, leaving a trail of gunge behind her. “Thanks for the help, Asha,” she said, putting her right arm around the messy volunteer. “There’s just one thing I didn’t mention.” On cue, a deluge of green gunge fell on the two women. Asha stood there and rolled her eyes, smiling politely as it fell. She was already covered from head to toe, so what was more gunge anyway? Suzi giggled and said “That might happen occasionally! Anyway, it’s ten points for each ring on the pole at the end, but if you cheat and carry more than one at a time, you’ll forfeit all your points! Natalie, are the teams ready?”

“Ready, love,” said the blue-haired assistant.

“Then let’s hit the showers!” said Suzi, running off-stage with Asha.

Nicki walked back to her podium, and turned to face the game. “You have two minutes. Let the game begin!” she announced.

Immediately Erin, Victoria and Tanya got stuck in and started rooting through the vat for the plastic rings. Erin found one first and dashed along the runway, with Tanya right behind. Erin threw her ring straight into Carlota’s arms and turned around to start running back. Tanya took a rather different approach and, after throwing her first ring to Niamh, jumped backwards and let the bungee pull her back. Victoria soon caught up and threw her first ring to Helen, before jumping back quickly.

Now covered up to her hips with gunge, Tanya stood up and started rooting around for another ring, whilst Erin and Victoria caught up. Victoria wasted no time in finding another ring while her rivals struggled, but Tanya was away quickly. The overhead gunge droppers burst into life, showering the footballer and the goth with rather unflattering bright pink goop. Tanya and Victoria threw their rings to their teammates, with the latter’s accuracy being fairly unhindered by the slime in her hair making her normally-blonde locks cover half her face. Tanya’s throw was slightly short, and landed on the edge of the pool.

Helen didn’t have a problem catching Victoria’s ring and adding it to the hoard, but Niamh had one rather irritating setback – the ring floated on top of the gunge pit, which meant she had to reach for it somehow. She wandered towards the pit, inwardly enjoying the sensation of the gunge squelching under her naked soles. Once at the edge, she knelt down and reached out, balancing precariously. Unbeknownst to her, there was a gunge dropper right above her, and it went off, pouring cold, electric blue sludge down her back. She squealed as she lost her balance and fell forwards, faceplanting straight into the slime. Despite her scream, she had a wide smile on her face – something Helen couldn’t help noticing and raising an eyebrow at. As much fun as she was having, she knew she couldn’t waste time if she wanted to stay in the game.

The game continued on, with Tanya refocusing her efforts. Trying to beat Victoria in this game was pretty pointless. After all, the blonde (well, she was blonde when they started anyway) was very much in her element. The skinny dark-haired woman wasn’t. Then again, neither was Erin. Given that Erin happened to be on the fewest points of the three going in, the goth knew that her best chance was to match Erin’s momentum. Thankfully, that didn’t seem to be difficult, even with the constant deluges of colourful slop, the dragging of the bungee and the non-existent grip that the soft, slime-coated floor offered. It was clear to her that Victoria and Erin were also struggling with those.

Victoria didn’t show any signs of stopping, and kept running and throwing rings to Helen. She watched the others and noticed that Erin was making things needlessly difficult for herself by running back after Carlota grabbed the ring, whereas both Tanya and herself were letting the bungee do the bulk of the effort for them. Still, the skinny goth was surprisingly formidable. What she lacked in muscles, she made up for in sheer determination. Compared to party girl Erin, who seemed to just meander and flounder around, Tanya seemed like a decent competitor.

Erin wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. All she knew was that she was cursing the fact that she hadn’t tied her hair back, unlike Tanya and Victoria. Her hair was now a colourful mess, and it was impossible to wipe out of her face since that just got more gunge on her. Trying to see what she was doing was slowing her down, too. In fact, before she knew it, a klaxon sounded to denote that the game was finished. The two presenters entered the stage. “Woah, what an intense game!” Suzi exclaimed. “I guess I’m going to have to count the rings and see who won, right?”

“Too right. Even if I wanted to stand in the gunge, what did I say earlier about my contract?” Nicki said, staring menacingly at Suzi. “Besides, it’ll ruin my boots.”

“The same boots you were happy to take off earlier,” grumbled Suzi.

Nicki gave a haughty laugh. “I’ll admit, going barefoot while presenting does feel quite homely, but people accuse me of ripping you off already. I’d hate to justify such a silly notion!”

Suzi rolled her eyes. “Let’s start with the reds,” she said, walking over Niamh, who was running her messy hands through her hair. “You look like you’ve had fun. Let’s count your rings.” Suzi knelt at the pole and started counting them. “1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Not bad. Sixty points, giving you a total of 130!”

Helen looked at her pile of rings and smiled contently as she did the arithmetic.  She looked to Suzi, who approached. “Yellows, you need six as well to be certain of a place in the next round,” said the host, crouching down to count again. “1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7! Fantastic work guys. Seventy points, putting you at 150!”

Carlota frowned. The game hadn’t gone well for the blues, but that was pretty much a given. However, she didn’t seem to have many rings on her pole. She crossed her arms and looked away as Suzi confirmed her worst fears. “Ooh, Carlota, things aren’t looking great for you. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Just fifty points gives you a total of just 100.” She stretched her arms out. “Come here. You too, Erin.” The blue team wandered over hesitantly. Erin was covered head-to-toe in colourful muck, whereas Carlota had avoided most of the mess. The bodybuilder’s feet were covered, but beyond that she only had the odd splatter on her. Erin walked into Suzi’s outstretched arms and hugged her. “You’re not the hugging type, are you?” said the presenter to the relatively clean competitor.

“We lost,” said Carlota. “I’d rather you just got the elimination thing over and done with.”

Suzi smirked. “Ah, but you see there’s one thing we’ve got to do before that, and that’s take your 100 points and divide them up between the reds and the blues.”

“That’s what, fifty each?”

“If you want it to be, but it’s up to you and Erin. You could split it 50-50, or 40-60, or 30-70 and so on. You could even give all your points to one team,” Suzi explained.

Carlota shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t think they should get the points I earned.”

“Okay first off, Erin earned those points too, especially in the last round. Second, think what you want, but those are the rules of the game,” said Suzi, unfazed by the gunge rubbing off on her as Erin hugged tighter.

“So let Erin decide. I don’t really care. They’re not my points any more.”

Suzi looked to the woman clinging onto her. “What do you want to do?”

“Well, it’s only fair that they each get half the points, so split it half and half,” said Erin.

“And a fifty-fifty split puts the reds on 180 and the yellows on 200,” Suzi announced. “As for you two, it’s time for you both to leave,” she said, walking both Erin and Carlota to the entrance of the Elimination Enclosure. The huge industrial door opened up, revealing what was at the other end of the tracks leading from the gunge pit Suzi and Nicki were sat by before. The ‘what’ was a couple of seats on some kind of tiny car, designed no doubt to run along the track and through the black tunnel. The seats had restraints on them, which looked like they’d fold down to secure the riders in place. “Please, take a seat,” said Suzi. The blue team did so, with Carlota sitting on the right and Erin on the left. Suzi locked the restraints into place.

Just then, Nicki walked up to the entrance with the other two teams, and put her right hand on a dial. “This is not only the first elimination of this edition of The Pairing Game, but the first elimination of The Pairing Game ever. So, I thought we’d get someone in who built this crazy contraption to explain what’s happening.”

“It’s not that Asha girl again, is it?” asked Suzi.

“Nah, though she did seem like fun. Her online friends call her ‘rivetgirl’, but spelt with a one, two Rs and no I. I call her Blue, but everyone else calls her our head techie, Natalie Orwell,” the matriarchal redhead said. Natalie walked onto the stage and stood between Suzi and Nicki. “So Blue, I take it I turn this dial to make it go?”

“You do indeed,” said Natalie. “Since this is the first elimination of the episode, turn it to one.”

Nicki did as instructed, and the car crept forwards, carrying the chairs and the two occupants. “This seems like a rather drawn-out way of dunking someone.”

The Welsh girl smirked. “Oh, if we were just going to dunk them then we wouldn’t have bothered with all this, love! No, we’ve got a load of fun little extras planned for the riders on here!”

As Natalie declared that, the car stopped. A load of thick, sticky white foam erupted from all angles, dousing the occupants. “I take it that’s one of them?”

“It is indeed, Suzi. Erin and Carlota are going to get a bit of a cleanup before we subject them to the main tank.”

Suzi winced as the foam fell on the two riders, completely covering them. The car suddenly moved forwards and through what seemed to be a waterfall. Erin and Carlota squealed as the water hit them, displacing the foam and gunge. “I guess it was pretty cold, then?” asked Suzi.

“What a pair of wusses. My boyfriend had me do the Ice Bucket Challenge. That was cold!” Nicki scoffed.

“I never got around to doing mine before the fad died,” Suzi said, wistfully.

“Still, it didn’t quite clean them up,” Nicki pointed out, referring to the white streaks that were left all over Erin and Carlota’s clothes and hair. Erin laughed as she looked to Carlota, who was trying to push the restraints open. The Portuguese woman looked furious, like she was going to turn green and smash the set. In fact, as the car passed under a large gunge dropper, she did turn green. At least, her hair did, as did Erin’s.

“I don’t think Carlota likes your ride,” Suzi said, sadly.

“I know, right? This is gold!” added Nicki.

“She’ll be glad it’s nearly over, then!” Natalie chuckled as the car reached the end of the track. The seats tipped forward, leaving Erin and Carlota dangling precariously. Carlota breathed in deeply and screwed her face up. She’d gotten off pretty lightly thus far, but finally the mess had caught up with her. Her toes tightly clenched as she grabbed onto the restraint, awaiting the imminent drop. Erin meanwhile looked to Carlota and smiled. Her so-called “teammate” had been nothing but a bully since the first game, and annoyingly had managed to weasel out of getting particularly messy while the others got stuck in. Losing was almost worth it just to see her get her comeuppance. She tried to stretch out with her foot to see if the gunge was as bad as Suzi had implied before, but couldn’t quite reach. “There’s just one last thing before we dunk them,” said Natalie.

“What?” Carlota, rather foolishly, yelled. Immediately after she asked, a short spray of gunge spat out from the pit, hitting both her and Erin straight in the face. While Carlota growled angrily, Erin just laughed. “Why are you laughing? You got it too!”

“Because you’re so pissed off and serious all the time!” said Erin.

“Of course I’m pissed off! I’m the best damn player here and I lost because–WAAAH!!” Carlota’s rant was cut off as the restraints unlocked and jolted up. Both she and Erin plummeted face-first into the thick, murky gunge. They both vanished beneath the surface of the goo, but Carlota surfaced first. Erin soon followed and saw her teammate angrily smashing her fists into the surface of the mire. Around the surface of the pit, a bunch of sprinklers popped up and showered the pit and its two occupants with a colourful gungy mist. Erin laughed as it covered both herself and Carlota, who just turned to her and yelled, “Why are you laughing?!”

Erin shook her head and splashed gunge at Carlota. “You’re just so funny! It’s just goo!”

“It’s my reputation!”

“You still don’t get that it wasn’t about you, do you?” Erin sighed.

“Neither do you.” As Carlota insisted on having the last word, a stream of pink gunge fell on her from above. She shouted some word nobody in the audience knew the meaning of, but if they did know the meaning, they’d probably be offended.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that!” Nicki smirked.

“You wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of a shot glass of gunge.”

The redhead couldn’t help nodding at Suzi’s counterpoint. “That’s true, Sooz. Like I said before though, contractual reasons!” She then turned to the yellow team. “So, what did you make of that?”

Victoria looked worrisome. “I’m glad Erin made the best of it, but she didn’t deserve that. I wish she didn’t have to go on it.”

“Who would have taken her place, though?” Nicki asked.

“You?” laughed the blonde. “I’m kidding, of course!”

“Just as well! Helen, thoughts?”

The nerdy girl looked at the gunge pit and the two women within. “I was slightly underwhelmed, to be honest. I was expecting something more.”

“If I may,” said Natalie. “The second elimination will be more brutal than the first, so I hope you won’t be disappointed by that one.”

“Oh, the only way the second elimination could disappoint me is if I were on it!” smirked Helen.

Suzi looked to the red team. “Any thoughts, Niamh?”

Niamh blushed and stuttered. “I… Well… Uh… Sorry, I need to go back to my dressing room!” she blurted out, before running off-stage, leaving a slimy trail behind her.

“Well, uh… I thought it was a remarkable feat of engineering, Natalie,” said Tanya, smiling. “I for one can’t wait to see the lovely Helen take a ride on it!”

“Oh ho ho! Someone’s getting a bit cocky, are they not?” Helen winked. “Just because you fancy this other scene chick!”

“We’re not scene chicks,” Tanya and Natalie said in unison.

“You’re not denying the other part, though.”

Tanya shrugged her shoulders and pursed her lips. “I don’t usually go for the cyber subclique, but if you don’t mind me saying, you are quite cute, Nat. However, I only have eyes for my little Neevy!”

“Okay, I think that’s a good point to call a break, don’t you, Suzi?” said Nicki, blushing a little bit at Tanya’s forwardness.

“I think it is! Coming up in part four, we’ve got more games, more gunge and more trivia. Now, don’t go anywhere! Erin and Carlota certainly won’t be!”

This is my response to a thread on EC Gunge, and I think its worth reposting here. The OP asked for TV scenes in which the gungee is “genuinely humiliated”. This rules out civilian scenes and also acted scenes from telenovelas etc. As this is a subject close to my heart, here is my dirty dozen of top humiliating scenes.

12. L&K Sunetra Sarker

A favourite of mine since she tries to avoid getting her hair gunged but is caught out by the “double w(h)ammy”.

11. Passa ou Repassa girl

My focus is here is on the girl on the green team who first appears at 3:40. I love the one-sidedness here and the desire for revenge that is never fulfilled. After the first pie, she jokes that she will get her opponent back, only to get nailed with a second pie. Then, in the final question, she’s determined to buzz in first, only to give the wrong answer!

10. Ellen court case dunk tank

My fave Ellen clip by a mile because of the punishment element.

9. 101 Ways to Leave a Gameshow Clara

The double humiliation of being ridiculed as a dumb blonde and gunged.

8. Que locura! Champu “La Concha”

Various Venezuelan supermodels are tricked into advertising a spoof shampoo product. The setup is non-consensual, and hence unethical, but I would be a liar if I claimed not to enjoy it.

7. Mucho que Perder

Having to sing that you are a loser while getting soaked is certainly a humiliating situation. However, I think the woman is a celebrity so it’s unclear whether she is “genuinely humiliated”.

6. GYOB Alyson

Of course, the general premise of GYOB is to humiliate the grown-ups. Why did I single out this clip? Because, IMO, no other contestant visibly hated being in the gunge as much as Alyson (except perhaps Frances, but that was a shit gunging).

5. MoM Rachel Stevens

The one time when Diva Stevens didn’t run fast enough. :-D

4. Kidnapped Tar and feathers

This scantily-clad Asian completely loses it when faced with her messy fate.

3. Wudja Cudja £1000 challenge

“I love being covered in poo!” This clip is divisive because it features manure, but there’s little argument over the extent of the girl’s humiliation. The presenter is clearly a natural-born bully too.

2. Richard Bey Show Ca-pie-tal punishment

Mob justice at its messiest.

1. Charlotte on NHP

Sublime set-up. I’ve written about this clip in detail here.

One problem I have when doing these lists of favourites is that there are always ones I forget about and then think “damn, why didn’t I put that one in?”. In fact, I’ve already thought of a couple since writing this (EDIT: how did I not put anything from Japan in this list?). I’d appreciate to hear from other humiliation junkies what they think of my choices and what their own faves are.

Evening all. Some vintage wam up on my dailymotion channel. Pretty tame by today’s standards but I’ll wager there’s some stuff here that many of you have never seen.