August 25, 2010

Ma’am Chops

Posted in stories tagged at 12:02 am by littlesubmissions

“First, you’re going to chop up the mushrooms. Curl your knuckles under the hand you’re holding the food with, and use a rocking motion to cut them into slices.”

He dropped a mushroom on the cutting board and grabbed it, pushing the knife down through and cutting a ragged chunk off.

“No, stop, Christ, you’re cutting it like you’re axe murdering a sorority girl.” Her hand reached into his waistband and dragged his pants and underwear down until they fell and caught around his knees. “Put down the knife.”

The steel clattered against the cutting board as the air hissed and the cane hammered into his ass. “See? I roll my wrist, and get this.” A second hit, overlapping the first and he grunted and slammed his hips into the counter. “I swing it like a samurai sword…”

He rose up on his toes and breathed deep as it hit again, at the top of his thighs.

“Not nearly as accurate, and it’s a lot more work. I could do this all day…” Another explosion of pain and fire across his ass. “But this…” A long swing that splattered loosely against him, forcing the flesh around the cane at an angle, leaving a red stripe behind. “Would tire out my arm and make me loose my accuracy. We don’t want to loose accuracy do we?”

“No ma’am.” He grunted the words out from beneath clenched teeth.

“Good, back to chopping.”

He blinked tears out of his eyes and picked the knife back up. She smirked and rubbed the handle of the cane between her legs, feeling a warm flush as he carefully made a rocking motion and sliced through the mushroom. He repeated the process, carefully turning the mushrooms into slices and sliding them to one side of the cutting board, putting down the knife and looking behind him when he was done.

“Good boy. That took you twenty three good cuts, and one bad one. I think ten strokes for the bad one is fair, don’t you?”

His head nodded back and forth. “Yes ma’am.”

“And I’m going to allow you to stroke your cock forty-six times for the good ones, because I believe in reinforcing positive behavior. I’m going to insist actually, and you’re going to count them.”

“Yes ma’am.” He shifted his hips away from the counter, and started stroking his cock, feeling the skin tighten and the flesh get harder in his hand. He counted each stroke, and she waited until he got hard then rolled the cane and snapped it hard into his ass again.

He grunted and his hips jerked as he slowed down his forced masturbation.

She waited until he’d completed two more strokes, then hit him again. Watched his hips twist and jerk as the cane slammed into his ass, watched him slow down as he realized what was happening, smiled and felt her cunt twitch and get wet as she counted out the ten strokes and he jerked himself off.

She slammed the last three strokes into his body hard and fast, timing them to his last three strokes, and let him sink against the counter for a few seconds and breath hard, then pulled him upright by his hair.

“Now, you’re going to pour some oil into the pan. Not much, just enough to coat the bottom. Like this.” She used his hair to force his head down, his knees buckling until they hit the floor. Her other hand found his jaw and squeezed, prying his mouth open and looking down at him. A warm trail of spit fell down from her mouth and into his, the trail of saliva stretching between the two of them. “Maybe a little more than that.” She rolled her jaw and shifted the muscles in her mouth, carefully spitting between his lips again.

He unscrewed the lid as his thoughts became woolen and fuzzy. Poured a trail of oil into the pan, paused, then added a second and rolled the pan around, spreading the oil and coating the bottom.

“Turn the over on medium high heat.”

She reached around and under his shirt, rolled his nipple between thumb and forefinger as he twisted the knob, matching his motion and speed.

A sharp hiss came out of his mouth and she slapped his ass. His legs jumped and she smirked. “Be glad it wasn’t your cock. Now, take the pork chop, and put salt and pepper on both sides.”

He slid the plate with pork chop over, poured salt then pepper on it, flipped it over and repeated the process. He looked over his shoulder at her, and she shrugged.

“I don’t have anything for that. It’s just seasoning. Masturbate for me while the oil heats up though. No coming.”

He tried to ignore the painful stripes on his ass and throbbing nipple while he jerked his cock and played with his balls. She sat on a kitchen chair, watching, feeling the thrill of control over him, smirking as he slowed down to keep from coming.

Regretfully she walked over and checked the oil, and nodded. “You’re going to throw the pork chop in for about forty-five seconds to sear it. Push it with the spatula so it doesn’t stick, then flip it over and do the other side. Then take it out and put it on the plate, and throw in the mushrooms.”

He nodded and slid the pork chop into the skillet off the plate, nudging it with the spatula.

One of her hands clamped over his mouth while the other smashed his nostrils shut. Her cunt throbbed as she leaned in close to his ear and whispered. “One Mississippi… two Mississippi…”

His lungs started to burn and she felt the world narrow down to the jerks and contractions of his body as she whispered in his ear. She let go when she reached forty-five, watched him take a deep breath and flip the pork chop over, then clamped her hands over his mouth and nostrils again.

She humped her cunt hard into his leg with each count, dragging it up and down, feeling herself getting wetter. The cloth pushing against her clit, dragging her panties up and down her slit.

She let go again and he carefully slid the pork chop onto the plate between deep, ragged breaths, then dumped the mushrooms in off the cutting board.

“Now, we need to wait until the mushrooms get soft. So get down on your knees.”

He dropped to his knees as she slid her pants down, then her panties and off one ankle. “Lick my cunt.”

His tongue eagerly worked across her cunt, electric thrills across her skin. She saw his cock twitch and start to harden, shifted her weight and slammed her foot into his balls.

The hot explosion of his breath against her cunt sent tremors up and down her spine, and she rubbed herself against his face. “Soft. Keep licking.”

He forced his tongue back out of his mouth and tried to think of anything to keep from getting hard, feeling hot wet flesh against his face, her taste and smell washing over him, gasping and jerking when his cock started to harden and she kicked him in the balls again. And again. And again. And again.

The raw, earthy smells of cooking mushrooms and sex filled the air, the meat smell of seared pork still lingering in the background. She pushed his head away, stepped back and sighed. “The mushrooms are soft.”

He pulled himself to his feat, and leaned against the counter.

“Put the pork chop back in. It’s thin, so about ninety seconds a side should cook it. If it were thicker, it would take longer.”

He pushed a hole in the center of the mushrooms and dropped the pork chop back in, looking at the clock on the wall. She stroked his hair, one hand rolling across his head while the other caressed her cunt, prolonging her pleasure. He flipped the pork chop and she gave him her fingers to lick, using her other hand on her clit as he eagerly sucked them into his mouth, sliding his lips up and down each digit.

“Turn off the oven, and put the food on a plate.”

He clicked off the burner, and shoveled the food onto a plate with the spatula. “It smells good.” He grinned at her.

“It does.” She grinned back.

“Not really the Julia Child method.”

“Not really, no.”

He licked his lips, the plate held in one hand between them while she grinned, then held her hand out. He cocked his head and handed her the plate, then stood there, and finally scratched his cheek.

“Fork?”

The drawer slid open, then clunked back shut as he passed her a fork.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She jerked her head. “Now do the fucking dishes, bitch. And hope I leave some for you.” She grinned again, and sat down at the table, already knowing she’d leave half for him, trying to decide if she’d have him eat it off the floor.

He started water running in the sink, also knowing she’d leave half, hoping she’d tell him to eat it off the floor. And also hoping he’d be cooking again tomorrow night. Maybe spaghetti.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

2 Comments »

  1. Andrew said,

    Great! Thanks for sharing it with us!

    • littlesubmissions said,

      You’re welcome!


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