The Penitent Mess

by Tar Feathers

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© Copyright 2019 - Tar Feathers - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; bond; wam; messy; food; cons; X

“Kneel…” She glances around nervously before kneeling on a large sheet of plastic. She looks up, he is there, smiling, a shudder runs through her body, she has given herself to him, allowing him permission to do what he wishes, confident in the knowledge that, although she may never ask for what she will receive she will love every moment that will come to her.

Pies… It has to start with pies and I have plenty. I feel nervous, but I mustn’t allow my sub to see the chinks in my armor. I so want to give her what she wants, what she is crying out for. I want to see that faraway look, the fear which turns to ecstasy as I approach with more substances. I smile, the time has arrived to have our fun.

I select a pie, banana cream, I want to have a simple, plain colour to start. I let her see it, holding it in front of her face, allowing her to smell the delicious cream. This is no prop, no second chances here, she deserves only the best. I hold the pie back and slap it into her features without warning.

Oh my God! After so much teasing it begins. The cold cream engulfing my face, instantly turning my world dark but overloading my senses.

I quickly take two chocolate pies, knowing that she will not be able to see I sandwich her head. For a moment she is deaf, dumb and blind, alone in a world where the dripping mess is central. I watch her shudder, wanting to wipe her eyes but knowing the price for disobedience. I cannot see her features, but I can tell that a smile is on her face, her pretty tongue dips through the cream, tasting, teasing.

The pies start to slide, gravity is a cruel mistress so I take a jug of custard, warm and lumpen as a school dining room offering, it shudders in the lip of the jug before cresting and starting to engulf her hair. My sub holds remarkably still as the warm substance slowly creeps down the back of her head. I take another jug and tip it across her face, thickening her mask, blurring her features. It splats, heavily onto the tarp beneath her, the knees of her jodhpurs starting to sink into a dessert sea. There will be so much more my beauty…

Step one, the first toddler like strides on a journey from demure and beautiful woman to ruined and bespoiled blob. I pause, resist the temptation to take everything and strike it all at once, no, I am an artist, my sub the canvas. This is my masterpiece, and even though it may never receive the public viewing it deserves it needs time, and restraint.

I reach for a bowl, earlier I spent time cracking eggs and now there are three dozen yellow orbs in their sea of clear goo. I start to slowly pour this over her head. Some of the yellow splits, merging with the custard and cream, the whites add a glossy finish almost like a varnish. I watch your wiggling as the yokes find their way inside your riding shirt and slide, uninvited into the lacy bra which lies beneath. All too soon the bowl is empty and you are shiny and dotted with yellow debris. I take a pound bag of flour and start to scatter this onto the eggy mess. I am sure I hear you curse beneath your breath, we both know the combination of egg and flour is the start of a mess which will take time and effort to remove, but that is part of this experience, it isn’t something to be rushed, you will wear this like a cloak until I am ready for you to be freed.

Not eggs and flour so soon… I was hoping he would pour on some oil at least to stop the flour setting like glue, but my sensible side is so quickly pushed aside. Oh God… this is so sticky, if he lets this set… The thought drifts as I feel an egg yoke tease my nipple.

“Stand up…”

She stands before me, flour drifting, a shake of her head and a giggle and I am covered, she will pay for that, all in time, I smirk!

I take a squeezy bottle of chocolate sauce, the contrast of dark brown against the white is amazing, I trace lines across her hair and body before dribbling another sauce, this time strawberry over your face, it follows your facial contours. I cannot resist and add a huge bag of ice cream sprinkles which stick and decorate you beautifully. You giggle so I add a jug of melted ice cream. The swear words that greet the icy mess make me laugh.

You shit! That ice cream was so bloody cold! My nipples harden, hard to tell if it is excitement or the bloody cold.

I sit you down on the end of the bed, already covered in plastic sheeting. I kneel before you, echoing your position for me, but this for me has evil intent. I take your rubber riding boots, filling one with thick molasses and the other with custard before you inviting you place them back on. Your face as your toes are embraced by first gluey treacle and then warm custard is a picture and spills of mess breach the tops of your boots leaving your feet engulfed, trapped.

I pull open the waistband of your jodhpurs. I spy lacy panties and smile, I take a jug of golden syrup and let it pour ever so slowly into your pants. The jodhpurs bulge as a gallon fills the front and they seem to start sweating golden droplets, but, the gluey mess holds.

The syrup clutches at me, every movement causes it to invade me, I feel the weight pulling at my sex. I cannot doubt that I am adding to the contents of my overloaded riding trousers as the pleasure builds.

I pull out the back of your jodhs, this time I fill you up with cake batter, the waistband holds, but you feel the weight. You squeak as I pull your panties up hard.

You bastard! Wedgied with batter and syrup, Oh God where did that all go? I stare at you, I know this is only the beginning, but revenge boy… oh just you wait…

I smile, almost as if I read your mind. I tell you it’s breakfast time and show you bucket after bucket of porridge oats. I lay you down on the bed and start to slowly pour buckets of the heavy mess over your body, from your feet to your neck you are soon a Goldilockien dream. You feel the gooey oats seeping into your clothing and the weight as it embraces you. I smile and pour a bucket of batter over your head.

Aggh! I spit and shake my head as my world once again goes dark. The weight of the oats and batter is strangely comforting, almost as if I am being hugged… Oh I long for your gooey hugs at the end of this.

I smile as I watch you squirm, you think I don’t notice your hand creeping to your crotch… Naughty, naughty. I pull it back and tie it to a waiting rope, soon you are spread eagle and tied to the bed.

I leave you to enjoy the porridge before adding more batter, soon there are gallons of mess covering your body. I see you testing your bonds, and smile.

Of course, you are still fully dressed, WAM is all about the tease, why get naked so soon, when we can enjoy every part of the process. I start to massage you, a gooey batter and porridge embrace, your nipples hard as my hands cross them, your crotch hot as I flutter across your inner thighs. I slip off your boots and pull off the, now ruined, long socks.

Naked little toes at my mercy. I take a bowl of butter, starting to rub its slippery mass into your feet, oh are we ticklish?

Fuck, he knows I am ticklish… Oh shit, he drags his fingernails across the soles of my feet before greasing them up. There goes my chances of running away. Oh God, I laugh and squirm.

I laugh, moving higher, unbuttoning your jodhs and sliding them down slightly. You look puzzled as I pull out a huge icing bag, but have to wonder only for a short time as I so carefully insert the tip between your lips.

Fuck, fuck, fuck… Oh God… I start to feel full, he is pumping me full of something warm, gooey and oh shit… I throb and buck as the warm mess teases me.

Oh, the power of warm KY Jelly and some kitchen equipment. I warn you not to let that spill as I zip up your flies but know this will be impossible. Still dressed, yet so horribly invaded and defiled. You feel the gooey mess seep from you.

Time for a break I announce, much to your displeasure. But I am not totally cruel, I place a HItachi wand, purring on low at your gusset, the vibrations setting up cruel waves in the jelly before covering you with a heavy horse blanket and turning up the heating in the room.

The heat builds, but the vibrations fail to… You swear, demanding, pleasing release. Oh, but this is just the first step, there is so much further for you to go…

I am not sure if you have been sleeping, or just cursing me as you lay beneath the layers of porridge, batter and slime. However I finally release your bonds and stand you up. I tell you to remove your boots, you slide off the heavily filled riding boots, I put them aside, the next to be removed is your riding blouse, again heavy with mess before I slide your jodhpurs from your legs and leave you near naked with the exception of your once pristine underwear.

The bra is first to be abused, pulling out the cups they are filled with gooey jam, ensuring I rub it in well across your hardened nipples. Then your panties, already filled with gooey syrup and sloppy lube, I take marshmallow fluff and smear it across the sheer fabric, stroking your inner thighs and tantalising your sex.

While you are enjoying my touch, I prepare another pie and slap it in your face, your features once more obliterated. You curse.

Shit, another pie… I am on a hair trigger, the vibe was set high enough to set me simmering but too low for me to cum. Oh I could hate you, but you are humiliating me so much. I push the thought from my mind.

I strip you off your ruined bra, but leave your knickers in place, you give me a curious look but soon realise when I hand you a black egg and tell you to ‘put it away’. The combination of your lust and a gallon of KY make this a simple task and the love egg is soon deep inside you. I show you the remote control and give you a sudden buzz which leaves you almost doubled over. You understand now that you are totally at my whim.

Lying you face down on the bed in a layer of slops, I quickly tie your wrists and ankles, attaching a cord between them and pulling you into a tight hogtie. I slip a crotch rope around your waist and pull this equally tight, ensuring that your toy will remain in position however you squirm.

I explain the game, you will get messy, sometimes with nice mess and sometimes with nasty. However, if you break the rules the love egg will get more intense and if you cum. I chuckle, you get a special punishment.

Rules? Nice? Nasty? I gulp… I test my bindings, but it is clear that I am trapped and I can feel the mass within me, I am almost pleading for release.

I take out a ball gag. I smile as your eyes widen, this wasn’t part of the agreement. I swiftly buckle it around your head and your comments reduce to a near silent mewing.

Oh the look as I gagged her, a mix of lust and hate. Got to keep the bubbles in the Champagne. I chuckle to myself.

I lie you on your back, supporting your neck and back with pillows so that you are not resting totally on your hands. “Rule one…” I say. “You must be quiet…” I start to slowly dribble sauce over your nipples, it has been sitting in a ice box and is chilly. You moan as it enrobes your nipples and seeps across your globes. “Oh… now now, that was a noise!”

I pull out two bottles, ketchup and mustard… I watch your eyes and the shaking of your head. “Rules, are rules….” The bottles make farting noises as I coat your hair and legs with the smelly condiments. I smear the bright coloured sauce over your legs.

Oh this is fun, she is in a world of her own. Time to up the game…

Your eyes were closed then the twin ice cubes touched your nipples. Silence was not a option as you yelped, a noise even the gag could not prevent. I giggle and pop more into your pants. You writhe and buck. “Oh you rule breaker…” I hold up the remote and click the button. Deep vibrations start within your body, You moan but I am ignoring you and starting to smear your body with margarine, paying special attention to your inner thighs and breasts, massaging you.

Oh stop this, the egg is only on level one and I am ready to explode… The feel of your hands sliding across my body, the mess, oh my!

I flip your body over and apply another catering sized container of marge, giving you a deep massage around your ropes, clicking the egg as I do. Soon you glisten in the rooms light, your body quivering. I dump bags of flour over you first your back and then your front. You groan so I press again, I can hear the sound of the egg now and watch as the first throws of orgasam hit you, I push on to full speed and watch you squirm before falling back exhausted against your ropes.

If you were hoping for release it isn’t happening, your eyes widen as you watch me throw the remote across the room. I watch the look of realisation hit you almost as hard as your second orgasm.

I am not totally cruel, and eventually let you come down, releasing your ropes and allowing you to stretch out in the mess. “Stand up… you need to be punished…”

Punish me… Oh fuck, bring it on… I need to be punished… I am exhausted but feel my heat rise again.

I lift a sheet from two huge buckets and three filthy pillows. I don’t know much ‘gag speak’ but recognise your pleas as you make them. “No, you broke the rules…”

I stand you there before me, grabbing a wallpaper brush and allowing you to watch the thick tar drip from it. Ever so slowly I approach you and put a spot of tar on your nose.

Oh shit! This is for real. I understand the butter now, but this tar will be a bitch to remove. But I am his bitch, his slut and deserve whatever he has planned for me…

The tar coats your chest evenly, soon your breasts are just shiny black mounds, your legs tarred and coated, your sex soon vanishes beneath my brush. Soon, all that is left of my tar baby is your face, even your hair is a rapidly solidifying mass.

“Any last words?”

“Guuk You” You spit from behind the gag. I laugh and paint the heavy tar across your features. You cannot see what comes next but know it must, the ripping of fabric and then the scattering of pure white feathers. I clear your eyes and you see your perfect tarred and feathered body.

But this is not all, I take a roll of black pallet wrap and slowly starting at your feet, commence the wrapping of your body, the itchy feathers trapped beneath the plastic, soon only your head is free from the many turns. You feel the tar start to set, the plastic shrink and know that this is your fate. I lay you down smiling.

Oh God… She looks so amazing, I hope she is ready for what comes next.

“Did I say I have to go?” Her eyes become saucers. “Yes, so busy. Sorry. I am sure you can get free.”

What? He is joking, he is joking, surely… The door opens and closes and I am left alone. I gasp tears pricking my eyes.

The hours pass, I drift, knowing my fate accepting that I am no more than a messy slut. A sharp noise brings me round, an alarm. Oh shit the fire alarm. I struggle. There is a knock at the door. I cannot see as a firefighter enters the room, my wrapped body grabbed and put over his shoulder. Oh God I am being taken outside, there will be crowds, people, police… Shit!

You fucking bastard. Fire alarm, fireman and making me think I was about to be exposed to the world. Bribing the receptionist to switch off the CCTV, a fake alarm in my ear plugs and you had never left me alone. You had blocked my ears and then sat beside me until the dead of night, pretending the world was ending when all you did was take me into a dark service area. There were no crowds, no fire and, no you never left me. I was always safe under your protection. The ‘tar’ washed off, eventually. It was not real and so I don’t require a trip to A&E.

But, you are still a class A shit! And, I happened to notice that there was a huge bucket of tar left and all the slops, and as you sleep now, a slumber helped by the sleeping tablets in your wine, well, you will wake up as my bitch… And, I will enjoy every minute of it…


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