While I will confess to enjoying every email I receive from Peter Birch, this one was particularly delightful. He doesn’t have a blog himself, so didn’t think he could enter my Great BDSM Bake Off erotica competition. However, I didn’t want to keep this deliciousness to myself, so offered to post it as a guest post and I’m very glad he was up for that! Thus may I present, for your pervy enjoyment, the first piece of BDSM-meets-Bake-Off filth to land in my inbox: Charlie and the Chocolate Cake.
Content note for spanking, degradation, sploshing (if that’s what being pushed face-first into cake for humiliating and messy purposes is), cake sitting (again, I think), AND a sub being forced to eat chocolate cake.
Charlie and the Chocolate Cake
The cake sat squarely in front of Tara, an elaborate fantasy of dark chocolate icing decorated with swirls of salted caramel cream, tawny against the brown. It’s scent hung in the air, rich and heady, wonderfully enticing. Hours of painstaking work had gone into its creation, and hours more into making sure the situation was perfect: the kitchen clean and tidy, her hunger sharpened to the point at which her mouth was filling with saliva just from the scent, Charlie ready and waiting by the kitchen door in leather jeans and a sweater worn tight over long legs and full breasts.
‘Are you sure?’ Charlie asked.
Tara nodded. ‘All the way.’
Charlie shrugged and stepped forward, peeling off the cream coloured sweater in one easy motion and talking at the same time.
‘It smells delicious, and I suppose you are going to eat it, most of it anyway. Otherwise it would be such a waste, especially of all that lovely salted caramel cream.’
Tara felt her cheeks flush but managed a weak smile. Charlie had a cruel streak, which was just what she needed but could be embarrassing.
‘Let’s get you stripped then,’ Charlie said, as casual as ever, indifferent to Tara’s trembling as she allowed her dress to be peeled up and off.
Charlie was already topless; heavy, firm breasts briefly pressing to Tara’s should as she was stripped of her bra. Now in a pair of full, white panties, socks and shoes, her trembling was too powerful to control, while the lump in her throat made speech next to impossible.
‘Last chance to back out?’ Charlie offered, tightening a fist into Tara’s long, red pony-tail.
Tara shook her head.
‘You asked for it,’ Charlie said.
Charlie’s grip tightened, pulling painfully hard. A sob broke from Tara’s lips, just as her head was thrust violently forward, pushing her face hard down into the cake. She felt the icing squash against her skin, then break. Her head was thrust deep and held in place, making it impossible to breath as her face was rubbed in the mess of icing, chocolate sponge and thick, gooey salted caramel cream. She’s managed to shut her eyes just in time, but there was icing up her nose and her mouth was full of mess, which she struggled to swallow even as Charlie began to rub her face in the remains of the cake.
‘Go on, eat it!’ Charlie taunted, laughing as Tara fought to breath and then started to panic as she realised she couldn’t. ‘Oh dear, what a state!’
Tara’s head was jerked abruptly back, leaving her gasping for breath and spluttering bit of sponge, only to have her head jammed down once more, deep in. Again she was held down until she began to panic and slap her hands on the table top, but Charlie was far too strong for her, and far too knowing. Tara’s face was held in the mess just long enough before she was pulled up again, slowly this time.
‘Eat it,’ Charlie rasped, now cruel and commanding, ‘and I want to see you swallow.’
Tara’s mouth came wide of its own accord, taking in a big mouthful of sweet, salty cake and hurriedly swallowing. She risked opening her eyes, looking around to up to find Charlie’s face set in mingled amusement and disgust. Feeling that she had her tormentor’s approval, she began to eat, sobbing with arousal and humiliation as she swallowed down mouthful after mouthful, breaking off only when Charlie chose to rub her face in the mess once more, or to poke out her tongue and deliberately lick up bits of the salted caramel cream. A blob of the cream had got onto her nose, which she managed to catch with the very tip of her tongue before swallowing it down. Charlie laughed again.
‘You really are a filthy little slut, aren’t you? Right, up you get.’
The order was accompanied by a firm tug on Tara’s pony-tail, forcing her to her feet. The chair pushed back as she rose, to stand shaking and filthy, bits of cake falling to squash on the floor and soil her breasts.
‘Messy little girl, aren’t you?’ Charlie admonished. ‘Hands on your head.’
Again Tara obeyed without hesitation, raising her arms to stand stiff to attention. Charlie was grinning, eyes glittering with wicked delight, breasts heaving, clearly aroused, speaking once more in a mocking tone.
‘What was it? Ah, yes, that’s what you said, you dirty little tart… put some cake down my panties and rub it well in… well in between my cheeks and up my cunt… spank me if you like.’
Tara nodded eagerly, neither willing nor wanting to deny her own words even as tears of humiliation began to well in her eyes to have them repeated back to her. She knew Charlie would do it too, and more, all sorts of rude things, maybe invading her anus, maybe pushing her to try and make her blurt out her stop word. Whatever happened, it was plain that Charlie was having a lot of fun, voice now slipping from command to cruel humour.
‘Panties open. A good, big handful of cake.’
Helpless to her own submission and arousal, Tara could only stand as she was while the back of her panties were pulled out and a full handful of cake deposited down the back, then a second. She felt the soft, sticky mixture of sponge and icing and cream against the skin of her cheeks, tickling in her crease, then the weight of the cake, bagging in her panties. The sensation sparked new tears, trickling down her dirty face to make runnels in the sticky brown mess coating her cheeks. She began to sob, gulping down her shame as yet more cake was added to the heavy ball of mess now hanging in her panties, desperate need and bitter self-disgust now warring in her head as words broke from her lips.
‘Not the front. Not my cunt.’
Charlie was no novice, and merely laughed.
‘The word is Red, Tara. Now let’s give that rude little pussy of yours her fair share of cake, shall we?’
Tara burst into tears, her entire body now racked with sobs as the font of her panties was pulled out and cake shoved rudely down, squashing out over the rich tangle of ginger curls that shielded her sex and into the crease between her lips. Her mouth had come wide, her lower lip was trembling uncontrollably and the tears were rolling down her face to splash on her breasts, creating chocolate coloured marks on the pale skin.
She closed her eyes, completely unable to resist what was happening to her, what she had craved so badly for so long, which filled her with so much shame and so much desire it could become a physical pain. Now it was happening, her body and mind responding to skilled fingers, now teasing between the lips of her cunt, now tormenting her by weighing the heavy bulge of cake hanging in her panties and telling her what a filthy slut she was, now adding more cake, back and front. Only then did Charlie pause, with the weight of cake in Tara’s panties so great that they had begun to slide down around her hips.
‘Spankies time, slut,’ Charlie mocking, ‘and I reckon that’s just what you need, a good, firm spanking to punish you for being such a dirty little tart. Imagine it, wanting your face pushed in your own cake… wanting it shovelled down your panties and rubbed into your cunt… of, and you’re wet, by the way, sopping wet, but I expect you already knew that, didn’t you, slut?
‘Yes,’ Tara sobbed, her voice breaking to a squeal as the first smack was applied to her bottom.
‘Better get you bare, at least for now,’ Charlie remarked.
Tara felt her panties tugged down, not far, but too far to let her hips support the weight of the mess inside them any more. They fell down, landing on the floor with a squashy sound. Charlie took no notice, now spanking Tara’s cake smeared bottom cheeks with sharp, well aimed slaps. They were delivered hard enough to set Tara’s cheeks dancing and make her gasp and yelp, then start to tread in her pulled down panties. Only when she put a foot in the chocolate cake on the floor did the spanking stop.
‘Can’t you stay still?’ Charlie demanded. ‘Honestly, the fuss you make over a little spanking!’
‘I can’t help it, it hurts!’ Tara answered.
Charlie merely sighed, planted another hard slap across Tara’s now smarting bottom cheeks, then spoke again.
‘What a cry baby. Oh well, I suppose I’d better finish you off then. ‘Stay still.’
A faint whimper escaped Tara’s throat as her panties were pulled back up and settled around her hips, leaving the cake once more hanging heavy beneath her bottom cheeks. For a moment she thought Charlie had forgotten something and she flushed with a curious mixture of relief and disappointment. She was wondering if she should speak out when her friend’s voice came again, crueller and more mocking than ever.
‘Oops, silly me, I nearly forgot the titties, and…’
The sentence was left unfinished, but Tara knew what was going to happen. She’d stopped crying, but her face was still wet with tears and her breathing deep and even as her breasts were quickly plastered with chocolate cake. Charlie rubbed it well in, thoroughly soiling both small, rounded mounds of girl flesh, tweaking Tara’s nipples, applying a couple of only fairly gentle slaps. Tara closed her eyes, the muscles of her belly already twitching as the front of her panties were pulled out and yet more cake shoved in, and down, between her slightly open thighs, pressing. She cried out as her cunt filled, now completely soiled, in a state of utter disgrace, or so she imagined until Charlie’s other hand slipped in beneath the bulge in her panties to find her anus.
Sobbing with passion, her legs shaking badly, Tara simply let it happen. The tip of one cream lubricated finger was in her anus, teasing as cake was waded firmly in up her cunt and a thumb worked in the crease of her sex, masturbating her. It wasn’t the first time, and Charlie knew every trick, everything that got Tara off, the right words to create the perfect blend of humiliation and arousal, whispered into her ear as she gave herself over to her feelings.
Little shudders began to run through her body, building rapidly as Charlie’s fingers worked on her clit and pushed deeper in up her anus. She felt her muscles started to clench and she cried out in pleasure tinged with a last flush of despair for her own behaviour before her orgasm rose up and broke. Charlie held tight as Tara’s body jerked in unstoppable, unbearable ecstasy, completely out of control as she hit peak after peak, all the while shaking and sobbing and begging for more until at last she went limp.
Charlie still held on, now whispering reassurances instead of dirty words, but it wasn’t what Tara wanted to hear. Her hand was already moving to the crotch of Charlie’s tight, leather trousers, clutching for what she needed. Charlie seemed to hesitate for a moment and Tara was babbling as they clung together.
‘Use me, Charlie, just use me… use my mouth.’
She didn’t wait for a response, sliding slowly down to the kitchen floor to sit splay legged on the hard tiles, the mass of cake in her panties spreading out as her bottom settled down. Her fingers was grasping at Charlie’s trousers, clumsy in her eagerness as she popped the button and drew down the zip. Two sharp tugs and Charlie’s trousers were down, another tug and the lacy black panties beneath had followed, freeing a fat, pink cock directly into Tara’s mouth. It wasn’t quite the first time, as she’d provided a teasing lick in order to help get the spunk needed to make the salted caramel cream, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last.
Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a queer, trans, disabled sex writer with vaginismus. He’s a slut and a sex nerd who writes about his adventures in trying to fuck without fucking up. Quinn can usually be found wearing stomp-on-the-patriarchy boots while falling in love every time he fucks.