The Surprise Party

by Tar Feathers

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© Copyright 2019 - Tar Feathers - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/m; messy; wam; food; jodhpurs; cons; X

Jane glanced around, she was nervous and had tried her best to keep out of the way of her boss. She realised that she had made a major mistake and now she would have to face the consequences. They would say that she had one job to do, actually she had hundreds of jobs to do, she had taken the job as a groom at a private yard but the job had become groom, riding instructor, nannie, cook, cleaner and PA. Months of seventy hour weeks spending time as the families dogsbody and living in what had been described as a ‘bright and airy room in the family house’ which had been in fact a damp hovel over the stables and tack room.

What had gone wrong was simple, she had made a stupid mistake, typing in an incorrect date in an email, however the result was that last night, what should have been a surprise party for the wife of the family with over two hundred guests was a disaster. She had put the wrong date on the email and so, when he had walked into the marquee with his wife on his arm, her eyes closed and the expectation of a crowd of expectant faces had turned into an empty tent. The food was there, she had not messed up the catering, the band was there, there were just no guests, they would not be arriving until next week when the surprise would be well and truly out of the bag…

She sighed, she had mucked out and fed the horses, she was planning to run away, but had to look after the animals before she escaped. All she had to do was avoid him until she could catch the bus and find a new life.

Of course, as is typical it was all about to go wrong, she froze when she heard footsteps behind her.

“Jane…” The cold voice was cutting. She froze, willing him to go away, but he was not going to leave. She turned around slowly. “I want a word with you… Come with me…”

She bit her lip, tentatively walking a few steps behind him as he walked onto the main lawn and into the marquee. The tent was quiet, there were tables set for guests, heaving with food which would now never be eaten. The dance floor was empty, he stopped and faced her.

Jane wished she could shrink beneath his gaze, she was in her ‘uniform’ of black, form fitting jodhpurs, worn green wellington boots and a riding blouse. She looked down, shuddering as she caught a glance of the anger in his eyes.

“You do know what you did, don’t you?...” He paused. “I happen to think that you did it deliberately, I know that you dislike my wife…”

She shook her head, but it was true, his wife was a spoilt brat who would act like a teenager if she did not get her own way, belying her forty plus years of age.

“You ruined her special night… Do you know what this all cost me?” He waved around the tent. “And as for the humiliation…”

Jane’s ears pricked up. She had not been invited but would have loved to see his wife humiliated, but deep down there was a desire for humiliation herself. She pushed the thought deep down.

“... am so sorry, sir…” She whispered.

“Sorry…” He sighed, dressed in a business suit, and finely tailored white shirt. Clearly he was dealing with this before another meeting. “I don’t think 'sorry', quite cuts it, do you?”

“No sir…”

“You deserve punishment…”

Jane looked up. “Sir?” What the hell did he mean? Punishment? The answer was to come sooner than she imagined.

“I mean, who will now eat these beautiful prawn cocktails?” Jane looked at the lines of glass dishes lined with lettuce before seeing deep buckets behind filled with neon pink slop. She gasped as he picked up a bucket. “Take off your boots!” He barked the order.

“My boots?” Jane stuttered.

“Yes girl, take them off.”

Jane slipped off her boots and stepped back as he filled them to the brim with thick prawn cocktail mix. He gestured to them once they were full, the bucket empty. It was obvious what he was expecting her to do, but she resisted. He grabbed her. “Now!”

She slipped her first foot into the icy cold mess, it engulfed her long stockinged toes as she sunk her foot into the leg of the boot, the pink ooze sliding down the sides of the boot. She gasped as she pushed her foot down, sinking into the thick, fishy slime. He watched, with a smile playing on his lips as she squirmed before nodding to the second boot. The feeling was somewhat sensual, her feet swallowed by the mess, if only it was not so cold. Jane stood up.

“And what about these?” He gestured to a table lined with cream pies. Jane gulped. He picked up a cherry cream pie. “Ruined?” He slapped the pie into Jane’s surprised face, she gasped as the cold cream engulfed her features, dripping onto her blouse. The pie tin fell away, she could see him standing there, another pie in his hands.

“Sir please…” The words were cut short as the sloppy confection hit her, followed by others before he started a new technique, holding the pies before her face, rubbing the creamy mixture into her hair and sandwiching her head until her world had gone totally dark. There was a pulling at her blouse and a warm feeling spread across her chest, clearing her eyes she saw him standing with a jug of warm custard which was spreading across her sports bra, the warmth almost like an indulgent lover, engulfing and clinging to her goose pimpled flesh.

She imagined how she looked, the poor groom, standing in boots filled with stinking slop, her face and hair ruined and her blouse seeping custard. She blushed.

“Two hundred people missed out on this perfect, homemade soup…” He walked her towards a serving table lined with huge urns filled with tomato soup. Pointing to the floor she laid down, looking up at a line of taps which would have been used to fill bowls as the waiters served the guests. She gulped as the first tap was above her face, he sneered as he slowly turned the tap, a trickle of warm soup becoming a flood. The burners had been off overnight so the soup was thick and warm but not unpleasantly hot. Jane spluttered, turning her head as the first urn emptied its contents over her head. As the flow finally ceased he turned the second tap, her chest now engulfed with the warmth and weight, she gasped, her body betraying her as her nipples hardened beneath the bra and blouse.

The third tap hit her with a flow in her crotch, her once black jodhpurs now red with tomato essence, and again her body was adding its own essence. She was so humiliated so why was this experience suddenly turning her on? Her blushes were invisible beneath the soup.

A hand was offered, she stood up, she thought that finally her ordeal was over, but it was to be far from it. He was holding a hose. “Syrup.” He announced before pushing the end of the hose into the front of her tight jodhpurs. There was a rumble and a flow of heavy liquid started to fill her lycra trousers. She looked down, the otherwise skin tight jodhpurs were bulging. Her crotch and legs were starting to be bathed in heavy syrup. She swayed, the weight a partial reason as well as the illicit feelings which were seeping through her body in a way more heavy that the mess which coated her.

“You're very quiet…” He spoke.

“Mess me up!” Her voice was a guttural growl, which shocked even her. He smirked, “Well..” He said, “there is always the cake, it will need to be remade.”

Jane turned, the cake was almost six feet tall, an obscene confection coated in layers of frosting and decoration. Jane gasped. He dragged her to the stage behind so that she was standing almost above the cake itself. It looked like a huge bed, built up in layers with deep frosting. Jane gulped as she stared at the perfect surface, ‘Happy Birthday’ iced across the surface. He turned her round, forcing her to look into his eyes, the cake behind her.

She was on the edge of the stage when he pushed her, a hand on both of her breasts, an unsubtle shove and she was falling, spread eagle staring at the roof of the tent before she landed with a ‘whump’. The cake swallowed her hungrily, with her body sinking into the frosting until she was one with the confection. He laughed. Jane felt a shift in the power dynamic, licking her lips she tasted the sweet frosting and smiled at him, standing above her, silently inviting him to finish what he had started.

His jacket slipped off, shoes removed and trousers swiftly slid down before he started to fall towards her, his weight pushing her deeper into the sponge. She was trapped, unable to move but accepted his tongue as it explored her mouth, she could feel the hardness in his boxers, she realised the true reason she had stayed, the long hours, the belittling and insults from her were all countered by the nocturnal visits from this powerful man, who, even in punishment was able to forgive.

Their postcoital glow was sadly interrupted by a scream of pure anger and hate. He was dragged from her body, Jane could not move, sunk so deeply now into her cake it was impossible to decide where the cake ended and the groom commenced.

Her eyes were burning with pure hatred. Jane tried to move but it was impossible. “You bitch…” She snarled. “I knew this was happening. It’s why we had to kill the last groom…”

Jane gasped, tears pricking her eyes. “I’m joking, but I may make a special exception for you…” She smiled coldly. “No, you deserve punishment, and as you seem to like to get all messy I will be so glad to oblige you.”

Stripped naked, hands cuffed behind her back Jane was contemplating her fate. She was mad, she had made him drag her from the cake, stripping her by slitting her ruined clothes off.

She stood before her, they had never got on but had tolerated each other. She had taken great pleasure in belittling her in front of her friends. She was just ‘the groom’ or ‘you there…’ Now, she was standing in the middle of the yard, facing what she was sure was her ex-employer.

She had walked around her, pointing at Jane’s naked body with her riding crop before slapping her hard across her bottom, leaving a welt, Jane had cried out making her laugh, a truly horrid sound.

“What do I do to you?” She was looking around before she laughed again. Jane followed her gaze, builders had been reroofing the feed shed, there was a tar vat sitting on the yard, the burner had been extinguished but, as she stepped towards it she giggled as she saw the now cooler tar was still liquid.

Jane gasped. “No… Miss… Please!”

“Shut up!” She slapped Jane hard across the cheek, dragging her towards the vat. Jane shuddered, realising her fate.

She pushed Jane against the vat, dragging out a heavy brush and showing it drip before Jane’s eyes. “You know how much I am going to enjoy this…”

“Yes miss…” Jane looked down.

She placed the brush on Jane’s naked chest, the tar was warm but thick, it clung to her skin. The brush dipped again and her breasts were coated in shiny black ooze. All too soon her legs were coated before the brush was shoved between Jane’s legs.

She took a final bucket of thick tar and slowly poured it over Jane’s once blond hair, her world went dark…

“Oh dear… no feathers to finish you off…” She grabbed a pitchfork, jabbing Jane in her back and leading to to the ramp for the muck heap. Jane reached the top, looking down at the pit filled with woodchip manure. It was clear what was about to happen. A final jab left her falling towards the smelly muck which stuck to the glue like tar. Jane looked up she dumped a wheelbarrow of fresh muck to cover her body. The only time she ever did any work in the stables she thought as she struggled in the stinking mire.

Jane lay in the muck heap. She had tried to struggle to her feet but the cuffs would not shift and the tar had set nearly solidly. She sighed.

Looking up she saw a young woman standing looking down at her. She was wearing riding boots and jodhpurs, her face set in a sneer. “Oh they told me that I would find you here…” She shook her head. “Just about where you belong really…”

“Who are you?” Jane’s voice was muffled by the layers of tar and sawdust.

“Your replacement…” The groom laughed. “In more ways than one, he wanted a younger model and, well, let’s just say she enjoys my company too.”

Jane gasped.

“Now…” The girl jumped off the ramp, landing beside Jane. “This is the only help I will give you…” She dragged Jane’s almost immobile body from the muck pit, dumping her into the deep, sloppy mud at its base. “Get out…”

“I’m a little stuck here…” Jane pleaded.

“And?” The groom grunted. “You got yourself in this mess. I don’t have the keys to the cuffs and I am certainly not going to be able to get rid of that tar coat you are wearing. But, if you don’t get off their land I’ll set the dogs on you.”

“They’ll do the same to you one day.” Jane spat.

“Not, if I do it to them first…” She laughed. “Now fuck off bitch!”

Jane was not sure if the threats had been real, but she found herself lying beside a country lane at the edge of the estate in the darkness. It had taken all day to crawl and stumble this far and she didn’t know what her fate would hold.

However, the dark and bitter sting of revenge burned in her mind.


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