Page 7 of Bound to the Chef

“Y- yes, Master,” I gasp, screwing my eyes shut.

Once my feet are clear from the wet fabric, he turns me around to face him. “Bend over. I want everyone to see my cum dripping from that sopping cunt of yours.”

Embarrassment sizzles through my veins, turning my cheeks molten. But I obey him. I will always obey him. As soon as I’m turned around, he bends me over. “Now spread your legs. Let them get a good look. That’s right,” he calls out behind me. “Come look at your sacrifice. I’ve already bred her before coming here tonight. Watch how her pussy spasms as I touch her.”

His rough fingers rub my clit, making everything clench inside. More of his cum combined with my slick drips out of me, and with me spread as wide as I am, I hear it splatter onto the floor. Fuck.

Loud groans intersperse the music. The sounds of flesh slapping greet my ears. They’re getting off on this, and somehow, that just makes me even wetter.

“That’s it, my beautiful wife,” he murmurs against my ear. “Show everyone that pussy that belongs just to me. Reach around and grab your ass. I want them to see both of your holes.”

I do as commanded, my fingers shaking as I expose myself. Out loud, I might protest, but inside, I’m aroused beyond reason. An ache pulses through my body, an incessant need that will only be satisfied by my master. Again, everything drifts away, leaving me feeling floaty.

When Master Jason reaches for me again, my movements are slow, languorous. My body sways in time with the music, drawing a light chuckle from his lips.

“Oh no, my little sacrifice. I won’t let you slip away that easily.” He turns back to the shower, his hand hovering over the knob. “Perhaps I should turn the water to cold to wake you back up?”

The threat of icy water brings me back to the present. “No, Master.”

“That’s my good girl.”

CHAPTER4

RHYLEE

Master Jason drags me under the warm water, bringing another moan to my lips. It feels so good as it runs over my sore muscles. He takes a moment to rub my shoulders, bringing an awareness to his touch on my bare skin.

After a few moments, however, he turns me back to the crowd. I was correct. Some sit there, their hands jerking up and down on their stiff cocks. Others have a submissive serving them in various ways—males receiving blow jobs from both females and other males, other males and females lapping at their mistresses’ pussies. It’s practically an orgy in front of me.

The scent of sex hangs in the air, making my own pussy spasm. Try as I might, I find I can’t draw my eyes away from the scene. I long to bring my fingers lower, to give myself the release that’s been so cruelly denied me, but I know if I do so, Master Jason will make this ache far worse.

Soon, another scent, that of soap, reaches my nose. With methodical strokes, my master washes my body. Even when we spent the night together and showered the next day, he never cleaned me. There’s something so possessive, so primal, about the way he touches me, owns me.

I melt into him, remaining limp as he moves me about. Once he rinses me off, he bends me back over. This time, he angles the shower head so it pounds against my lower back, the water running over my upturned ass and across my lower lips. The sensation of flowing water trickling over my clit draws a needy moan from my lips.

His fingers are soon there, cleansing my most intimate parts. He starts by shoving his fingers deep inside my pussy, forcing me to cry out as my inner walls clamp around his digits. Pumping them in and out, he curls them deep inside me, pressing against that spot that makes my eyes cross.

My orgasm hovers as my body quivers beneath his ministrations. “Remember,” he growls, “your orgasms are mine. You are not allowed to come until I say so.”

“Yes, Master,” I cry out, my body screaming for release.

But he pulls out before I reach the point of no return. However, before I can so much as sigh in relief, those fingers are at my back entrance. Though we’ve done our fair share of anal play, I still tense in anticipation. Will it be just his fingers? Will it be a plug? Or, since we’re now married, will he take that bottom hole for the first time with his cock?

As if he can read my mind, he rocks in and out, stretching his fingers to widen my hole. “Do you know how badly I want to fuck you here? To take this tight little hole? Well, don’t worry, my pet. That won’t happen tonight. I have other plans for you.”

Pulling out, I listen as he lathers up some soap and cleanses his hands. Once he’s satisfied with our state of cleanliness, he stands me upright. Off to the side, a club submissive stands there waiting with a set of towels.

I go to pluck one from her grasp, but Master Jason stops me. “Oh, no you don’t. I know what you’re thinking, and no towel is going to conceal you. Not tonight.”

He leaves me standing there while he dries off before taking the other towel and running it over my body. Each touch burns like a brand, reminding me of just how needy I am. His touch shouldn’t feel so damned good; and yet I sway forward, desperate for more of it.

“Stay here. I’m going to get my costume ready.”

My nose wrinkles as I frown in thought. “Costume? I thought husband and wife were our costumes.”

His dark laugh sends skitters down my spine as he turns to the audience. “Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere, will ya?” They chuckle for a moment before turning their gaze fully on me.

There’s nowhere to go. No escape. And honestly, I wouldn't want it any other way.

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