Promoting Ethical Conduct

I’m going to start this off with a disclaimer. Yes, I know the majority of the people who will read this are decent people. This post is not made with the intention to accuse anyone of harassment, nor to say “stop having your little bit of fun”.

So recently there was a discussion on UMD about the ethics of posting found content, and it dredged up quite a few points I feel are worth discussing here. If you’re interested in seeing them (and possibly even joining in the discussion), click the link below. Just note that there is a lot lurking beyond…

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The Lady in the Cake Pt. 1: The Girl with the Silver Pies

Note:  Fair warning, this is the first of two parts, and as such is altogether mess-free.  A heads-up to anyone unconcerned with context, you’re best off just waiting for part two.  For those who do like a little method to their mess, enjoy. 

 

It had been raining all morning. Brigid Oster watched rivulets run down the smudged diner window. For some reason, the constant rain made her feel claustrophobic, and that feeling was gnawing on her nerves. Although, to be fair, her jitters had a lot to do with the conspiracy…

Prying her eyes from the window, she glanced over at the prim-looking blonde woman seated across the Formica table.

“They’re late. Do you think they’re still coming?”

Cora Huff didn’t look up from the newspaper she held spread between them.

“We’re early.”

Brigid nodded rapidly, feigning confidence. She briefly inspected her perfect nails. Then repositioned her empty coffee mug. Then she went back to staring out the window at the forest of wet concrete.

“How will we recognize them?”

“We won’t. They’ll recognize us.”

Nodding again, this time Brigid saw her point. A cabdriver coming off a night-shift kept drifting off over eggs at the counter, two elderly regulars played silent chess near the door, and the teenage waitress was sweeping up by the kitchen. It would be hard to miss the pair of remarkably attractive women tucked into the middle booth alongside the big window.

She sat quietly for a spell, but within five minutes, Brigid was checking her small silver watch.

“Are you sure they’re coming? With the rain… They might…”

Cora folded down the top of her paper, gazing flatly at Brigid through her glasses. Thick, stylish black frames with subtle flaring at the corners.

“They’re coming. For what we’re offering, they’ll deal with the weather.”

As if on cue, the lone bell on the door rattled. A small, slightly waifish figure slouched in off the street. She wore tight, torn black jeans and a dark olive-colored army-style jacket zipped up high. Her hands were jammed in her pockets and her feet, hidden in heavy, wet boots, squeaked softly on the diner floor. She had rings in her nose and one through an eyebrow, and mid-length hair dyed pale purple. Her hair was pulled up haphazardly and, like her jacket, damp from the downpour. She shambled over to them and stopped at the end of their booth, cocking a dark brow over a blue eye at the seated women.

“Slumming it, eh?”

Indeed, between their appearance and general demeanor, it certainly looked that way.

Each of the pair was tall, and though Brigid was a shade taller, Cora cut the more imposing figure. Her blonde hair was tied in a pristine bun and sharp green eyes watched carefully from behind her glasses. She wore an expensive, but frill-less, tailored grey power suit over a gleaming white blouse. Her high-end wool pea coat was folded over the back of her seat. Attractive though it was her face remained professionally impassive.

Brigid on the other hand, while less immediately formidable, was easily the more beautiful of the two. Slender, but in a way that made her seem long rather than skinny, she was porcelain pale, but never crossed over to pallid. Poise defined Brigid, from her casually folded hands to the precise tilt of her head. Her face was rich with delicate features and perched upon an elegant neck. Strawberry red hair hung loose to her shoulders, framing hazel eyes that twinkled despite her nervousness. She wore her beauty comfortably, like a favorite hat; this morning, it accompanied mustard-colored slacks and a short fawn trench coat, which she had not so much as unbuttoned since entering the diner.

Cora laid her paper on the table.

“Please, sit.”

The new arrival pulled up a chair and placed it at the end of the booth. She sat down backwards, straddling the seat and planting her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her palms.

“So. You have something for me?”

Wrinkling her nose, Brigid shot a look at Cora.

“How do we know she’s who we’re here to meet?”

The young woman smirked at Brigid, waving a hand at the sleepy diner.

“This isn’t exactly my scene either, duchess. How about we get down to business?”

“She doesn’t… look right. Are we sure she can even do it?” Again, Brigid addressed her concerns to Cora.

The lavender-haired girl shrugged, unfurling a surprisingly winning smile.

“Hey, you want to find somebody else, go right ahead. Take this little job to the Shriners, see how far that gets you.”

Cora held up a finger.

“Your organization comes highly recommended. I’m sure you’ll be adequate to our needs.”

She turned away, taking some things from an attaché case beside her on the vinyl bench.

The girl stuck her tongue out at Brigid, who scoffed.

Cora placed a black and white 8×10 photograph on the table and slid it over. It depicted a short, pretty woman, who looked like she could anywhere from twenty-nine to forty-five.

The girl picked up the photo, recognition flashing across her face. For the first time, there was no hint of attitude in her tone.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Next, Cora slid over a plain white envelope. The girl picked it up, feeling the heft. She didn’t open it.

“Half now, half when the job’s done.” Cora waited for the girl to nod.

“The time and location are written on the inside of the envelope. Burn it when you’re finished.”

The girl nodded again, sliding the envelope into her jacket.

Brigid spoke up.

“What should we call you?”

“I’d prefer you didn’t,” the girl said with a sneer, “But my workname is Minx.”

She handed the photo back to Cora and stood up.

“I won’t be needing that.”

Noting Brigid’s skeptical expression, she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t look so shocked, even I’m allowed to pick up a little culture here and there.”

The girl calling herself Minx stuffed her hands back into her pockets and turned to leave, speaking to Cora and Brigid over her shoulder.

“Well ladies, it’s been lovely chatting. Next time we meet, I’ll be famous.”

She headed out back out into the rain, leaving Brigid to flash Cora a queasy grin. The girl was being sarcastic of course, but there was something of a ring of truth to her parting words. Their plan was coming together, and if it worked, they were going to make quite a splash indeed…

The next day, at the office, Brigid was sent on a coffee run. Nothing out of the ordinary about that, however, it was a very specific order, one which she recognized immediately. It meant they were having a meeting.

Brigid rushed through the posh lobby of the building where she worked, perfectly stable despite heels and the fruits of her errand balanced in a cardboard carrier. She tossed a perfunctory nod at the security desk, whose inhabitants knew her by sight, and made for the nearest elevator. The building had sixty floors. Her finger hovered momentarily over the button for the top floor, before pressing fifty-nine.

There were only three office suites on the fifty-ninth floor, and Brigid went directly to the middle and largest of them. She passed through the outer-office and past the empty reception desk; in the interest of discretion, the girl had been sent to lunch. Knocking carefully, three times exactly, she entered the main office. The glossy black plaque on the door read, Samantha Bogey – Director of Operations, Executive Editor, Vice President of Publication.

Brigid nodded to her boss, the Number Two for the entire magazine. Samantha Bogey was seated at her enormous desk. The lights were off, and the room was lit by the sun filtered through the large windows. The blinds were down, but tilted open, striping everything with shadows. Cora Huff stood at the window, watching the phenomenal view through the slanted slats.

Wordlessly, Brigid began distributing the coffee. She served her boss first; iced dark-roast, two sugars. Samantha accepted it with an easy smile.

Though she was nearer to forty than she liked to admit, Samantha Bogey was an attractive woman, and remarkably successful for her age. She’d entered the fashion industry as a young model, and despite never quite hitting it big, she’d fought her way tooth and nail though an accomplished career on the editorial side. Her aggressive, steel-trap mind was outwardly softened by supple curves and an angelic face. Today her long black hair was braided and draped over a red cashmere sweater, which brought out the warmth in her brown eyes. However, despite her efforts and unthreatening appearance, Samantha was infamous at the magazine, and in the fashion industry at large, as a brutal tactician and an inspired strategist. In addition to her official corporate roles, she served as enforcer and war-chief for the magazine’s current regime. And her last name was pronounced “Bow-jay;” any other pronunciation was uttered at one’s own peril.

Turning from the window Cora received her own coffee, tall and black, with a curt nod.

Excluding the small herbal tea she’d gotten herself, Brigid’s coffee-carrier had two cups left, steam curling from the lids. Samantha glanced at her computer screen between sips, probably checking the time. A hint of impatience played at her lips.

A moment later, there were three quick raps at the door. Not the main door, from reception, but one of the side doors, from the small corridor that connected to the office next door. The man to whom that office belonged was in Fiji this week at a shoot, but Samantha gestured at Brigid to open the door anyway. The woman who slipped inside wore a blazer over a brightly-colored paisley dress, sported a swooping light-brown pixie-cut, and spoke a mile-a-minute.

“Sorry I’m late. Had to duck out of a surprise lunch. Came in the backdoor just to be safe.  All present and accounted for? Is that for me?” The woman took her drink, cappuccino with a double-shot of espresso, from Brigid with a grateful shoulder-touch.

Marlowe Philips ran the advertising department for the magazine, and was also their best-kept-secret weapon when it came to backdoor PR. Though not exactly noteworthy in her usual environment, surrounded by models past and present, and positively stunted at a mere five-foot-seven, Marlowe was still undeniably beautiful, with big sapphire eyes and a perfect nose. In addition, her figure was quite well-endowed, which, given her advertiser’s eye for visual impact, made it certain she always managed to make an impression. She was also considerably shrewder than her bubbly and stylish exterior suggested.

“So. I see I’m not last. Have we heard from her highness yet?”

Samantha smirked.

“No, we have not. She may decide to grace us with her presence later, but we should get started now. We don’t have a lot of time as it is.”

Marlowe nodded, perching herself on a corner of the desk, Cora sat in one of the chairs on the other side, and Brigid took her place behind her boss. Samantha, ranking member of the magazine staff, as well as the instigator of their little cabal, began.

“Alright, where do we stand? The big day is this weekend, so we need to decide here and now if we proceed as planned, or call it off. Cora?”

The VP of Finance adjusted her glasses before speaking.

“It’s taken some time, due to the necessity for back-channels, but I’ve heard from all the right people. The money is in place. If we proceed, and are successful, the magazine will remain fiscally stable. Assuming any sign of overt orchestration is avoided, of course.”

“Excellent. And our contractor? Brigid filled me in on your meeting, but I’d like your take.”

“A bit on the scrubby side, but I think she’ll get the job done. I was prepared for the price to go up when she found out who the target was, but it didn’t. I think she views the high-profile as more of a shot at fame, or infamy, than a chance to cash in.”

Samantha smiled wolfishly. The predatory expression should’ve appeared foreign on so outwardly innocent a face, but it fit her features like a custom-made evening gown.

“Perfection. That’s just the sort of ambition we can work with. Miss Marlowe? Tell me your news is just as good.”

Marlowe shrugged.

“I would love to… Because it is. I’ve done my homework too. Some of the relevant voices out there think it’s time for a change, and most are ambivalent. As long as we avoid a power-vacuum, the magazine will retain all of its influence and considerable social cache. Heck, with a fresh-enough face, we’ll even get a bit of a bump among the youth crowd. One teensy caveat though. And believe me, I was discreet as hell, but a few of my contacts brought you up specifically… They believe you’re too, ah, aggressive to take the reins, publicly at least…”

Marlowe shrugged sympathetically, but Samantha waved her off.

“We’ve known that from the beginning. No harm in hearing it now. That’s why we’ve got Charlie; she’s always been the plan. And I would hate to think we’ve been putting up with her for nothing…”

Marlowe laughed and Brigid had to cover a snicker, even Cora grinned.

Just then, all four women heard the muffled click from the door to the outer-office. They froze. Momentarily, panic fell over the room. If the wrong person saw them all together now, the jig was up. Months of plotting, down the drain. Eight eyes were fixed on the door to reception.

The door flew open and a phenomenally gorgeous woman sashayed in like oiled silk. She wore big, bug-eyed sunglasses and was focused entirely on the smartphone in her hand. When she noticed the others in the room, she held up a finger, and turning, rapped three times on the door behind her.

“Oops. Almost forgot the secret knock.”

Brigid practically felt the ripple of sighs that ran around the office.

Charlie Dash put hand on hip and pushed her sunglasses up into her chocolate brown hair, which fell to her neck in a perfect shimmering curtain. Her eyes were pale blue and utterly disarming, set in a face practically torn from the pages of a textbook on art theory. Optimally tanned and toned, her body left her clothes, staggeringly high-end and several steps ahead of cutting edge fashion, completely outshined. Charlie offered them a luminescent smile which had graced more magazine covers than the sitting US president.

“Did someone get coffee?”

Dutifully, Brigid handed the last cup from her coffee run to the new arrival. It was an obscenely complicated concoction of soy, vanilla, and chai so difficult to remember that Brigid literally had it written on a card that she could give to baristas.

“Have I missed anything?”

Marlowe chambered a blistering reply, but Samantha stayed her fire with a small shake of the head.

“No dear, we were just waiting for you to get here. Do you have any questions about the plan? Any questions about your role in it?”

“Ah, well… Yes, ok, now what plan is this specifically?”

More than one jaw clenched in frustration. Samantha remained calm, her tone still soft.

“For the Spring Picnic, on Saturday. For our little surprise. The one which is the reason we’ve been having these little get-togethers. The one that will make you the new editor in chief of this magazine and ensure your social relevance for the next decade… That plan.”

“Oh, oh, of course. The plan for the coop. Naturally. I just have to /not/ go to the picnic, right?”

Samantha’s smile was only slightly pained.

“Precisely. It is very important that most of you are not at the picnic. It’s unavoidable for Brigid and me, but the less any of us are connected with the actual incident, the better chance we have of avoiding troublesome questions.”

Charlie cocked her head, finally sliding her phone into her back pocket.

“That’s really all I have to do? I just want to make sure. This is my first ever coop.”

Coup…” Cora hissed.

“Who?”

“Coup. The word is coup. A ‘coop’ is a wooden house for chickens…” But before she could mutter anything about bird-brains or block-heads, Samantha interjected.

“What’s important to remember, ladies, is that we are very nearly finished with all of this dirty business.

“In the middle of the annual Spring Picnic, in front of the media, celebrity guests, and half of the magazine’s senior staff, our new associate will make a delivery. Two cream pies, quick and clean. Well, not clean per se… But you know what I mean. Then we just have to pick up the pieces.”

Charlie spoke up again, a flash of insight showing through her general glamour.

“And we’re sure that’ll be enough? Like, this is a pretty risky game, I just want to be sure we’ve got the cards to match the stakes. A pie-in-the-face is really going to knock /her/ off the throne?”

Brigid leapt at the chance to contribute something beyond caffeine.

“Actually, there is precedence. Back in 1982, while in Milan for a Fall line, the sitting editor in chief tripped into a fountain. Of course, there were plenty of photographers around, even a video camera or two. The coverage got into the papers and on TV back here; the comedy factor alone made it a huge fluff-news piece. The board decided the magazine needed to get past the incident, and she was unable to save face… She stepped down within six months.”

Marlowe tapped her nose deviously.

“And can you imagine how much faster things would have moved if the internet been around back then? Between social media and the national appetite for celebrity embarrassment, heck, she’ll be out by the end of the week.”

Samantha grinned grimly.

“My estimate is closer to ninety days.” She raised her coffee in a toast, and the others followed suit.

“So get ready ladies, because in less than forty-eight hours, our little caper will go down. And then Vague Magazine will be ours for the taking.”

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Kronos Waits For No Man: Part 5

Hello Telly Gunge. It feels appropriate to say that now on what is my first story written and published here and not on the now defunct WAM story archive. The bad news it part of the Caroline Kronos series, what has been my least popular series.
For those not familiar it’s set in the same time and place as my Bianca’s Messy Awakening series. This section does get on to some major spoilers of that series, so you may want to read that first.
Fans of that series may well want to read this as it reveals some major scenes from the series that led to one of the most major developments in the story. Eventually it then gets on to a messy scene (if your not interested in the story elements feel free to skip down to the second line) between Caroline and her husband.
This is the last story in the Caroline Kronos series I’ve currently got planned, although I’ve left it open ended, so I may return if I come up with any ideas. I’m currently concentrating on a new long story I’m working my way through, although I also have some ideas for a few short stories I may also do as well.


Welcome back. Where have you been. It’s been some time. I’m currently attending a wet and messy fetish convention at Westbrook Manor with my husband. Activities so far have included pie fights, gunge tanks, publicly gunging a friend on stage, and a very erotic time in the dungeon with my husband. In fact I spent most of the early evening making good on a promise I made to my husband at the end of that session.
Once I’d finally let him go I’d changed into one of my more modest dresses. You might ask why Caroline Kronos would ever do that. Well as much as I love dressing up, and the attention that gets me I had been wearing corsets all day, plus I’d be sitting down for most of the evening, which is when wearing a corset can get uncomfortable. That’s why you’ll normally only ever see Caroline Kronos standing or lying on her back.
I was still wearing a noticeable black layered lace dress, but I was happy for this to be about Carol and Ollie spending some time together, and let Caroline Kronos and Oliver Wolf have a little break. Not that this stopped us getting to the resorts best restaurant anything other than fashionably late. Looking round I spotted my friend Sam, and her date, a new man she met who’d assumed the name Caramel Mocha, finishing of their main courses. I let them enjoy their date uninterrupted and let the waitress show us to our table.

One wonderful meal later me and my husband were walking into one of the resorts main bars.
“What can I get you beautiful” he asked.
“I’d like a sloe comfortable screw” I smiled. I couldn’t resist a little Caroline Kronos flirting at this point.
“Are you talking about the cocktail” he asked.
“For now” Caroline Kronos grinned, “but if you buy me one I’ll let you give me the other later.”
I let Ollie order my drink, and an American screw for himself. A quick scan of the room allowed us to spot a group of friends around one of the coffee tables. I was glad to see Sam and Caramel Mocha were still together, as were Figaro and his boyfriend Lampwick. Also there were our friends Bad Attitude and Dead Ringer who had a couple of blueberry muffins on the table. We went over looking for some intelligent and sophisticated conversation.
“There are adult cartoons that feature WAM regularly.”
“Name one.”
“South Park.”
“South Park. How do they regularly feature WAM?”
“Every episode someone gets hit with a trifle.”
“Do they.”
“They do. Then someone says; Oh my God. They spilled jelly.”
Hmmm. Looks like we’ll just have to settle for just conversation. By the way that jokes not my responsibly. All groans should be directed to the lover of pun humour Dead Ringer, that’s what we did.
“Seriously Bad Attitude” said Figaro. “Can’t you control your women.”
“Only a man who‘s never been in a relationship with a female would ever ask that” said Bad Attitude.
“He only gets to control me when I choose to let him” smiled Dead Ringer.
“Oh hi guys” said Figaro as he spotted our arrival. “That’s a nice dress your wearing. Did you forget to strip to your underwear?”
“Some of us can afford underwear worth showing off” I said. “You must be Caramel Mocha” I said reaching out to shake hands. “Don’t worry I’ll be nice, I’m sure Figaro already done his best to make you fell uncomfortable.”
“Would I do that?” asked Figaro.
Several of us exchanged glances and in unison replied “Yes.”
“So what do you do when your not hanging with us strange folk?” Oliver Wolf asked.
“Normally I’m head of entertainment over at the Northbrook Park amusement park” Caramel Mocha replied.
“Isn’t that the place Verona and Stephanie are always mentioning” said Oliver Wolf.
“I think so” I said. “So how did you get that job” I asked.
“It’s a family business” Caramel said. “I started off operating the rides and food stalls, but eventually I qualified for my current job.”
“Hang on, a family business, does that mean your surnames Northbrook” I asked.
“It is” said Caramel Mocha. “My real name is Andrew Northbrook.”
“So if you two do get married, will you combine your names and become Northwestbrook?” I asked.
“I prefer the double barrelled approach of Northbrook-Westbrook” said Figaro.
“You could call your child North-by” laughed Bad Attitude.
“I’m not copying a Kim Kardashian joke” said Sam.
“Come on” said Lampwick. “I’m sure they don’t want us discussing their personal lives all night.”
“Thank you Lampwick” said Sam.
“That’s not the only interesting news either” said Dead Ringer.
“What else has happened then?” I asked.
“Have you met the new slave Nurse Bianca yet?” asked Bad Attitude.
“I met her during the pie fights this mourning” I said.
“Well she was in here close to tears earlier” said Dead Ringer. “Turns out she’s not told her husband she’s here, or even about her WAM fetish. Coming here has really made things difficult for her.”
“What’s she going to do?” I asked.
“She says she’s going to talk to her husband Brandon when she gets home and tell him about it” said Dead Ringer.
“I feel really sorry for her” said Sam. “I’ve kept things hidden from a lot of people myself. I know how it’s difficult to tell people about things.”
“Hopefully Bianca, will get things sorted and she’ll be back at future weekends” said Bad Attitude. “She’s a really nice girl, and it would be good to have her around.”
“I’m half tempted to call her husband and tell him myself” said Sam.
“Be careful” said Caramel Mocha. “This doesn’t sound like the sort of thing where you can just easily interfere things better.”
“I can’t believe your disagreeing with her already” said Dead Ringer.
“Hey, I’m not a puppy dog” said Caramel Mocha.
“I do see an argument for calling him” said Bad Attitude. “It’s not a decision to take lightly though. Firstly are you prepared to take responsibility if things did go wrong and blow up in your face. Secondly how are you going to ever get him to calm down and talk things through with you.”
“What do you mean?” asked Sam.
“Well, I do fully sympathize with Bianca, and see why she did what she did” said Bad Attitude. “Having desires you can’t express can be difficult to deal with.”
“I know what you mean” said Sam. “I’m very glad to finally find a man I can share things with.”
“She has though indulged in sexual related activities without telling her husband. I wouldn’t blame him if all he did was get angry, and all he wanted to do was drag Bianca back home” said Bad Attitude.
“Maybe we could use that to make him talk, if her husband doesn’t know she’s here.” I said.
“He’ll know where she is as soon as we explain” said Figaro.
“Not here as in Westbrook Manor” I said. “If you were to withhold that information you could force him to talk things through.”
“Won’t he know where to come though” said Bad Attitude. “She might have given him some contact details in case of an emergency.”
“I don’t want to make you feel old darling” said Dead Ringer, “but it’s not like when you first holidayed without your parents anymore. Most people just use mobile phones now.”
“I could arrange for Bianca to be separated from her phone” said Sam.
“Hang on” said Caramel Mocha. “Lets think about this. If he doesn’t co-operate and he spends the rest of the weekend angry, knowing what his wife’s up to, your just going to make things 10 times worse.”
“Certainly I couldn’t really do that” said Sam. “If things went wrong I’d just have to let him and Bianca talk, and if necessarily excuse Bianca from her slave activities. I didn’t do as well in business as I have done without being able to bluff in negotiations though.”
“If we could convince him to come over himself tomorrow it could really help things” said Dead Ringer. “It would let him see exactly what it’s like, what it means to Bianca, and maybe destroy a few misconceptions.”
“Well if you convince him to come Sam we’ll be ready to help” said Bad Attitude. “Chances are he’ll want to talk to me anyway after my one on one with Bianca this mourning.”
“Don’t forget us” said Lampwick.
Sam looked over at me, Oliver Wolf, Lampwick and Figaro.
“Let’s get him settled in before we introduce him to some of the more eccentric characters” she said.
“What us” I replied.

It was that conversation that led to a flurry of activity later that evening and the next mourning. The schedules had to be re-worked to allow for the activities we arranged to take place between Bianca and her husband Brandon, and we had to sneak him into the resort. There was a bit of a panic when he drove down the drive as we realised Bianca might see that from the window of her room. Luckily she didn’t see anything, or if she did she didn’t have a good enough view of the car. Once there Brandon was snuck down into the dungeon where he wouldn’t accidentally run into Bianca. It had been decided that would be a good place for their one on one, not only did it cater to some of Bernard’s preferences but it would allow them some privacy to talk. It also helped that Bad Attitude and Dead Ringer were scheduled to be in the dungeon at around at the same time to keep an ear on things. Me and Oliver Wolf had been told we could come down and introduce ourselves just before breakfast. As we approached we saw Sam, Caramel Mocha, and Dead Ringer down there, along with Bad Attitude who was discussing possible uses for some of the messy items with Brandon. He’d even generously donated a few of the tins of treacle he’d brought along for his one on one with Dead Ringer.

“Hey look! Someone in the dungeon without permission. Someone tell Sam” Oliver Wolf called out.
“Oh don’t start” replied Sam.
“You must be Brandon” I said. “I’m Caroline Kronos and this is Oliver Wolf. We’re friends of theirs, and I met your wife during the pie fights yesterday.”
“It’s the Great Bernard now” said Bad Attitude.
“The Saint Bernard?” quizzed Oliver Wolf.
“No” said Bernard. “The Great Bernard is Bianca’s romantic interest in on of my wife’s favourite films.”
“Ah that’s sweet” I said. “Caroline Kronos loves Romantic touches like that.”
“Why are you talking about yourself in the third person?” asked Bernard.
“It’s some weird role-playing thing they do” said Caramel Mocha. “I wouldn’t get involved if I were you.”
“Hang on” said Sam. “I’m getting a text. Yep, Bianca’s been spotted leaving her room. Bernard you’ll need to put on that mask on the shelf there so Bianca doesn’t recognise you amongst the crowd in the ballroom.”
“We better go up separately” said Bad Attitude. “If she see’s us together as a group she’s bound to focus on us, or even worse come over.”
“Should me and Oliver go and distract her” I said. “We weren’t in the bar when she was last night, so she’s unlikely to bring the subject up with us.”
“That’s not a bad idea” said Sam.

We headed up to the ballroom. We were lucky with the timing and Bianca was just helping herself at the hot buffet. We strode over as quickly as we could without looking suspicious.
“Oh hi Bianca” I said. “How’s it going.”
“Not too bad” she said.
“I don’t believe you and Oliver have actually spoken yet” I said.
“Oh hello” she said. “Thanks for sending me those photos of the pie fight.”
We made casual small talk as I helped myself to an egg on toast with a side of fruit salad. I spotted Yvonne Ananka and Raquel Tejada eating breakfast with their husbands. I was quite happy to let them take the lead in the conversation. As they didn’t know about The Great Bernard being here, so weren’t likely to accidentally let something slip.
About 25 minutes later Michael from the events organising team came out to officially welcome everyone in for the second day. This included the first surprise we had in store for Bianca, and the rest of the new slaves as they were presented with their gift hampers, and took place in some entertainment where they had to cover themselves in porridge.
Knowing the circumstances I was glad to see Bianca win, as that meant she’d be getting the best of the 4 one on ones up next. Not unsurprisingly a lot of people went to greet Bianca and Twisted Genius when coming off stage. Even those who hadn’t been privy to the gossip could easily tell who was and wasn’t likely to get invited back as a slave from the performances on stage. This did work to our advantage as it let us congregate unseen at the back of the crowd, while Rebecca settled in and blindfolded Bianca.
“Are you all right Bernard” asked Sam.
“It’s still a lot to comprehend” he said. “I’m starting to see how big a thing this is for Bianca, and why she decided to come here.”
“All things considered your handling this very well” said Caramel Mocha.
“Are you sure your OK to do this one on one?” asked Sam.
“I think so” said Bernard.
“Try and make the most of this” I said.
“Afterwards we’ll make sure you both get some privacy down in the dungeon” said Sam.

We had been a little worried about what would happen next, but we saw Bernard put his understandable concerns aside to focus on having a good time with his wife. He clearly held her in a lot of affection as he slowly teased and pleasure her with the messy substances he had available. Judging by the look on Bianca’s face she was clearly enjoying herself.
A while later Bernard came over having finished his first session with Bianca. By that point a lot of the crowd had dispatched, or gone to watch cookery class about to start in the central ballroom. The other new slaves were also getting up, I heard Pretty ‘N’ Pink complaining about the mess the eggs and flour had made of her hair.
“Are you ready to head downstairs Bernard?” asked Bad Attitude.
“I’m ready” he said.
“I’ll be down with Bianca as soon as I can” said Sam. “Everyone else try to stay out of sight and stay quiet.”
We did as instructed and headed down to the dungeon. Once at the entrance to the chamber Bad Attitude took Bernard in the rest of the way for one last quick good luck. Once he was out we all slipped into one of the more private chambers where some of us could watch as Sam and Bianca walked past. We waited nervously, trying to listen for any signs of how things were going.

After what seemed like forever Sam finally came out through the curtain.
“That was intense” she gasped.
“Are you all right?” Caramel Mocha asked.
“I think so” Sam said, “and it looks like Bernard and Bianca are going to be able to sort out their issues.”
“We’ll keep an ear out on things while we’re down here” said Bad Attitude.
“Thanks” said Sam. “I could do with some time to wind down now. Luckily I’ve made a special order to be delivered to my room, and I’ve got someone to help me put it to good use” she said while squeezing Caramel Mocha’s arm.
“Your show room you use for business or your real room?” asked Dead Ringer.
“My real room” said Sam.
“Ah, she must like you Caramel” Dead Ringer replied.
“That reminds me” I whispered in Oliver Wolf’s ear. “The special order I placed with room services will be in our room by now. Why don’t we put that to good use.”


20 minutes later and we’d all gone our separate ways and me and Oliver Wolf were up in our room. My order had arrived, and a pair of bakery order boxes were on the table, and a number of red satin sheets had been placed over the bed and the floor around it. Well you wouldn’t expect Caroline Kronos to settle for ordinary dust sheets would you?
“Why don’t you go into the bathroom and take your suit off Oliver Wolf” I said. “I’ll call you out when I’m ready.”
While he did that I changed into my most visually imitating costume. A red latex corset and knickers combo, and a pair of black knee high platform boots with a 7 inch spike heel over my fishnets. As a finishing touch I had a riding crop, and a pair of red leather handcuffs with heavy buckles, but those weren’t for me.
“You can come out now” I called. “Time to be my prisoner for an hour or two.”
Oliver Wolf came out wearing nothing but a pair of red silk boxers. He offered no resistance as I strapped the cuffs on his wrists and secured his hands behind his back. He gave out a little shudder as I slowly circled around him, and then a gasp as he was helpless to stop me pulling his boxers down, leaving him totally naked.
“Come on” I said. I led him by the arm to the side of the bed, and made him kneel down on his knees. I then went over to the bakery boxes to examine the contents, lots of pastry crusts with deep cream fillings. I took 4 out, one by one and lined them up along the side of the bed in front of Oliver Wolf. I then lay in a seductive pose on the bed.
“Do you know what I want you to do now?” I asked.
“I have a fair idea” said Oliver Wolf.
“I want you to stick your face in all 4 of those pies while I watch” I said, “and if you don’t do it properly I’m not going to let you out of those handcuffs.”
He shuffled over to where I’d lined the first pie up. I saw him looking down at it and bursting into a quiet laugh. He went down, but stopped just short breaking into another laugh.
“Come on” I smiled. At the same time I playfully reached over with the riding crop to stroke his neck and shoulders.
He looked down again with a smile, took a deep breath and plunged his face strait down. His face plunged strait into the cream, becoming completely engulfed. I smiled as he lifted his head and the foil tray and pastry stuck to his face. He shook his head a couple of times until the tray fell down, and revealed his gasping face completely covered in foam. I found myself automatically looking at him seductively, licking my licks.
“3 more times you’ve got to do that” I smiled.
He gave me a look of intrepidation as he shuffled a little to his right to the next pie. I seductively crawled over to get a closer look. Now his face was already covered in cream he didn’t hesitate as much this time. After taking a few deep breaths he plunged his head down a second time. This time I was close enough to reach out and push his head firmly down into the pie. I playfully held his face in the cream for about 10 seconds before I let him lift his face up. I peeled the foil tray of to reveal his gasping face, and couldn’t resist throwing the pie strait back in his face. I rolled onto my back, and tilted my head back, looking at him upside down, as he got over the shock.
“Next I want you to turn your head and put the side of your head in the pies” I said. “I expect you to do both sides quickly, one after the other.”
He looked at me with excitement, before positioning his head turned sideways over the pie. Once again he took a second to compose himself, before plunging his head down into the pie. Quickly after plunging the right side of his head down, he came up and plunged the left side into the last pie on the bed. He came up quietly laughing, his head now thoroughly covered in cream, struggling in the wrist restraints that both stopped him cleaning himself, and kept him under my command.

With the first of the pies used up I slowly slid to the side of the bed to stand up. I stood up, and circled around Oliver Wolf, holding the riding crop out to keep him at a distance, while I used the full height from my ultra high stilettos to dominantly tower over him. After pacing back and forth a few times I went over to the bakery boxes and took out another pie. I seductively skimmed my tongue across the top of it, savouring the taste of whipped cream. I then crouched down in front of Oliver Wolf, eying his helpless naked body, deliberately taking my time deciding where to put the next pie, although in reality there was only one place it was going to end up.
I grinned mischievously as I pushed the pie right into Oliver Wolf’s crotch, covering his cock in a thick layer of whipped cream. I then reached down and rubbed the cream across it. Oliver Wolf closed his eyes, and a faraway look came on his face as he started to quietly moan. I looked on, enjoying the fact I now had full control over my husband. I grinned mischievously as I took my hand away, Oliver’s Wolf’s eyes begging me not to stop.
I had other ideas though as I reached for another pie. I strutted towards him as he struggled helplessly. This time I deliberately bent over at the waist, in order to fuel his desires with a view of my cleavage as I firmly placed the pie on his chest. I let the foil drop, and placed my left hand on his shoulder, and rubbed the cream in a circular motion across his chest, until it was completely covered in a layer of white cream.
“I want you to bend down, into a small ball now” Caroline Kronos said.
“Yes Miss Kronos” Oliver Wolf replied.
He crouched down, so his back was fully exposed while I picked up the next pie. I strutted over, where I towered above him, holding the pie above his back. This time I tipped the pie at an angle, and scooped the content out a handful at a time, resulting in a continued barrage of cream falling onto different parts of his back. The sensation of this has the desired effect and Oliver Wolf groaned with pleasure and struggled more than ever, desperate to be able to take charge. Of course Caroline Kronos opted to prolong things by getting another pie and dripping even more stuff on his back.
After that I put a hand on his shoulder to get him to kneel up strait again.
“I see your enjoying yourself” I smiled while looking at his now firmly erect cock.
“I so want to get out of these cuffs and get my hands on you” he said.
“What would you do with me?” I asked.
“I’d tear off your cloths, pin you down on the bed and fuck your brains out” he said.
“Sound like fun” I said, teasingly going around behind Oliver and putting my hands on the cuffs.
“First though” I said stepping away, “I’ve got 4 more pies to use up.”
Oliver shook his head, but was helpless when it came to making any decisions at the moment. I showed a little mercy by picking up two pies instead of one in order to speed things up a little.
“It’s been a while since you’ve been pied in the face” I smiled.
His face was still covered in cream, but I enjoy making him suffer a little. I held the pie in my right hand a little in front of him, allowing him to get a good look at it, before plunging it into his face. I held it there, twisting and turning until I slid it around the side of his face before letting it drop. I didn’t give him a chance to regain his composure though. I immediately hit him with the other pie I was holding, causing to reel in surprise a little as his face was engulfed in cream. This time after pushing the pie firmly on I left it there, leaving Oliver Wolf to shake it off while I picked up the last 2 pies. By the time he was over he’d shaken the pie tin off, but wasn’t able to open his eyes yet. I used this to my advantage, surprising him one last time with a pie sandwich to both sides of his head, engulfing his head in cream one last time. Once I’d finally done with that I crouched down and wiped his eyes.
“That was fun” I smiled. I took a handful of cream and rubbed it into his chest.
“So do you want me to let you go now?” I asked.
“Please” he begged.
I let my hand get lower until it was teasingly stroking Oliver Wolf’s rock hard cock.
“Now what would be more fun” I smiled. “Seeing just how mad you’ll go if I uncuff you, or keeping you prisoner a little longer.”
I drew things out a little longer, but I went behind him and unclipped the link holding the cuffs together.
Immediately Oliver Wolf had hold of me.
30 seconds later I was naked apart from my stilettos and stockings.
10 seconds after that Oliver Wolf was pinning me to the bed with his tongue deep down my throat.

It was about 45 minutes later. Me and Oliver Wolf were sitting in the Chocolate Heaven café, passing the time until our turn to bathe in the chocolate fountain came up. At that point my phone rang, the called ID showed it was Dead Ringer.
“Hi Dead Ringer” I said. “Did you make it out the dungeon OK?”
“Well I was covered in treacle and flour, and my arse was spanked red raw.” She replied.
“Sounds like you had a good time” I said.
“Yep” she said. “Everything went well with Bernard and Bianca as well. At one point Bad Attitude had to step in, when people were going to investigate why she was screaming so loud. Luckily he knows the difference between a scream of pain and pleasure.”
“I bet he does” I said. “I’m sure your looking forward to that later.”
“It’s happened already” she said.
“Really” I said. “I always thought that was the big disadvantage off being a slave. You don’t get any alone time until the evening.”
“Well Bernard joined us after Bianca was taken back to her room” she explained. “After a bit of time where I enjoyed both their attention Bernard let us use the private chamber him and Bianca were in for a quickie before Rebecca came to collect me.”
“Remind me not to use that particular piece of furniture myself” I said. “Sounds like with you and Bianca it seriously used goods.”
“O.K.” said Dead Ringer.
“So where are Bad Attitude and The Great Bernard now then?” I asked.
“I know Bad Attitude texted Verona and Sorrento so organise a meet up with the Great Bernard before him and me …”
“Spoilt the furniture” I said.
“Yes” she said. “I think them and Bad Attitude will be showing the Great Bernard round, although I know Bad Attitude will be there to watch me for my activities this afternoon.”
“Sounds good” I said. “Oh, it looks like our time slot for the chocolate fountains come up, so I’m going to have to go.”
“No problem, I’m due to be picked up for my next activity in 10 minutes anyway” she replied.
“Well see you later. Bye.”
“Bye-Bye.”

 

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Bianca‘s Messy Awakening: Chapters 12,13,14,+15

As Bianca is also going to tell you this is the last part of one long story that takes place over 48 hours. There is a lot here that will spoiler surprises and set ups from previous chapters, plus characters and other stuff you won’t know about if you start reading here, so my advice is to go back and start reading from an earlier section.
This being the last chapter there is a lot of character stuff to be getting on with. There’s the fallout from chapter 11, and a few other subplots to resume. There is some messy stuff though with a visit to a conference room and my entire contribution to the messy game show sub-genre, but the main bit is saved for the end. I was tempted to expand the conference room to a small scene, but it just didn’t flow on paper, plus it didn’t really do anything with any of the characters. I have read serials with potentially good story arcs, that have been diminished with too many distractions. I just hope I’ve got things right and that line doesn’t become ironic.
The messy scene from this one came rather late in the planning. I was thinking up possible attractions for Westbrook Manor. Originally Sam played a larger role in the scene, but as the story developed it made more sense to bring back Verona and Sorrento to fulfil the original role. I think the sense of fun comes across a lot better this way too.


Chapter 12:

If anyone saw me right now they wouldn’t believe I was the happiest I’d been for a long time. For those just joining, What are you doing? Go back a few chapters. This is chapter 12 of a 15 chapter story, “Spoilers!”
I’m currently fulfilling the role of a slave at a WAM enthusiast convention. The last couple of hours have been as kinky as that sounds, but usually that means I have all my activities assigned to me, making up numbers, and joining people who’ve signed up for a special one on one. The one grey cloud, I’d not told my husband I was attending, or even about my WAM fetish. That had caused me more upset over the weekend than I thought it would. With a lot of help from my friends though I’d finally been able to reveal this part of my personality to him, and we had just gone through one of the most emotionally intense sexual encounters we’d ever had.

We were currently sitting on a bondage bench in the wine cellar/temporary dungeon of Westbrook Manor, quietly chatting away. I’d wiped off some of the mess and put my shoes and robe back on, when we heard footsteps.
“Is that you Rebecca” I called out.
“It’s me” she said as she came in to view. “Are you OK? I heard from Sam there was some sort of problem with your husband.”
“We’ve worked out a lot of stuff now” said Bernard exchanging glances with me.
“Are you ready to make a move then?” She asked.
“I’m ready” I said.
“Do you know where Sam, Bad Attitude and co are?” asked Bernard. “We really should thank them properly.”
“You’ll probably see Sam this afternoon” she said. “Right now I think she’s tied up with her new man up in her room, so probably doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
“When you say tied up?” quizzed Bernard.
“I can’t give you exact details” laughed Rebecca. “Bad Attitude and Dead Ringer should be down here in the dungeon right now. We can see if we can talk with them. You’ll have to be quick though, you’ve not got that long to get cleaned up, and looking at you you’ve got a lot of cleaning up to do.”

We all made our way back through the dungeon. I wasn’t surprised to see Dead Ringer chained to a piece of furniture, gagged and covered in treacle and flour. You know 48 hours ago that’s a sentence I never imagined myself saying.
“I heard you guys worked things out” said Bad Attitude. “Actually, with the noise you made I reckon the people in the gardens heard you.”
I hid my face in my hand, blushing with embarrassment.
“Can’t we just say thank you, without you embarrassing us” said Bernard.
“Sorry, I’m just not that in to all the sentimental stuff” said Bad Attitude.
“Thanks a lot anyway you two” I said giving Bad Attitude an affectionate hug.
“Careful, your getting your mess on me” said Bad Attitude.
“I’d hug you too Dead Ringer, but I’m worried we’d end up stuck together” I said.
“I’ve got to ask” said Bernard. “Is there anything you two aren’t in to?”
“Plenty of stuff you probably don’t want me to talk about” Bad Attitude replied, “and despite what a lot of people assume, just because we both enjoy playing around with other people, we wouldn’t ever have intercourse with anyone other than each other.”
“It’s not something I’ve ever thought about before” said Bernard. “I suppose I’m used to the conventions of a monogamous relationship. It’s funny how the idea seems to appeal once you start thinking about it though.”
“Why don’t you help me with Dead Ringer here” suggested Bad Attitude. “I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”
I saw Dead Ringer give very much what looked like a shudder of anticipation and pleasure.
“You can stay if you like” I said placing a hand on Bernard’s shoulder. “I’m going to be busy getting cleaned up anyway.”
“If your OK with it“ he said. “I’ll see you this afternoon.” Bernard replied before giving me a kiss goodbye.
Maybe I’d been hanging around Bad Attitude and Dead Ringer a little too much, but I found myself a little intrigued by the idea of Bernard fooling around with Dead Ringer. I would have like to have watched, but after everything everyone had done for us I didn’t want to cause them any unnecessary problems by disrupting the schedules.

Much of the rest of the day went by in a bit of a blur. I was taken to my room where my gift hamper and the cloths Bernard had brought with him were waiting. Not that I had a chance to worry about them. Thanks to the high pressure setting on the shower I was able to rinse the treacle, and all the other stuff off myself and give myself a quick wash before getting changed into a clean nurses uniform just in time for my next activity.
The most notable thing about my last mourning session was the location. I’d been told a little about the conference hall in the bar last night, and was recommended I pay a visit after my time as a slave ended. It wasn’t huge compared to some of the conferences and exhibitions I’d visited with work, but there was more than enough to catch my eye. It looked like a typical conference with lots of stalls lined up and down several aisles, but many of the stalls were related to getting wet and messy. There were stores selling DVD’s and magazines and even a couple selling professional messy supplies such as gunge, pie kits and I also saw cans of the avalanche spray foam from my one on one yesterday. There were also a coupe of stores promoting WAM enthusiast websites, including one person I recognised from my own favourite site. Notably there were also quite a few stalls not directly related to WAM, selling a variety of sex toys and bedroom wear. I made a mental note that I defiantly wanted to come back here with Bernard when my time as a slave ended.
My slave duties required me to go on stage for a demonstration of the various substances sold by one of the professional gunge suppliers. I had a number of buckets of gunge of various textures and colours poured over me, much to the appreciation of the on looking crowd.

After this I was glad of my lunch break, to give me a chance to recover after my hectic mourning schedule. Dead Ringer came around for lunch again, allowing me to thank her properly now neither of us were covered in sticky treacle. This time we had a lot more to talk about, including a slightly bizarre comparison of each others bottoms to see who’s had been spanked the reddest. We also discussed some of what my husband had done to me, and what both our husbands had done to her over lunch and a box of chocolates from my hamper.
After lunch we were both down for the same activity, making up the numbers in another Pie-land games contest. This time we were playing “Do you want pies with that?” A load of MDF had been used to create a tacky looking game show set where we took part in a general knowledge quiz. We got points for the right answer, and wrong answers resulted in either a gunging or pie in the face.

Chapter 13:

It wasn’t until mid afternoon though when things got really memorable again. I was sat on my bed in a clean robe, wearing just a floral bikini underneath, playing with my tablet, which included exchanging messages and photos with Bernard as he was exploring the resort. He had promised to purchase a case of the avalanche spray foam and some packets of gunge powder for me. You may wonder why I wasn’t in one of my nurses uniforms. Rebecca had said a clean bikini would be more appropriate for this last activity. She had also advised me to make sure I had showered properly as ideally I should be completely clean to start with.
There was a knock and my door and I quickly sent a message to Bernard before getting up. As I opened the door I got a message back saying he’d see me shortly.
“Sam!” I exclaimed.
I’d been expecting it to be Rebecca on the other side of the door, instead Sam had come.
“Hi” she said. “Seeing as we’re doing the same activity now I thought I’d come to pick you up. Don’t forget your key though, as I won’t be around to let you back in.”
I quickly sorted my things out, and was soon walking down the corridor together.
“Thanks so much for what you did Sam” I said. “That was an incredible thing you did.”
“Well mum always says I can’t leave stuff alone” Sam said. “Plus I had a lot of help and support from others.”
“I’m still amazed that anyone would do something like this” I replied.
“Well it might not have been totally altruistic” she said. “It probably helped that you’re the best new slave we’ve had in a couple of years.”
“You’d like me back then” I said.
“We’d love you to come back” she said. “It would be a nice change from the problems we’ve had with a couple of the other newbies this weekend. I don’t want to pressure you though. It has to be a decision made between you and your husband. All I can do is make you aware of your options. It’s not necessarily a strait choice between regular attendee or slave. A lot of paid attendees still volunteer as a slave for one of the two days. Another thing to bear in mind is we always get female attendees asking to be paired up with a man to take a master role in a scenario they’ve got in mind, which is a role The Great Bernard could take if he wanted too, so it doesn’t necessarily have to be a one way street if you continue the one on one sessions you’ll encounter as a slave.”
This gave me a lot to think about. Me and my husband would have a lot to discuss when we got home. At least for now I could happily enjoy the rest of this weekend, and unlike first thing this mourning I was confident this wouldn’t be my last time here in some form or other.
“What have the other newbies been like?” I asked curiously.
“Don’t get me started” Sam replied. “Twisted Genius we’ve had no major problems with. We’ve had to calm things down a few times so he was OK. To be fair though a lot of the female attendees do get a little over excited when they have a male to mess up. It will take him a few of these weekends to get used to everything, but we can work with that.”
“What about the other two?” I asked.
She let out a groan of disdain before continuing.
“Two prime examples of the problem slaves we get. Fourth Angel is what we call a system beater. We give a lot of benefits to being a slave, because your doing a lot, and making sacrifices to make a better weekend for everyone. I always say though the best slaves are the ones who enjoy the role and would probably still pay to be in it. It’s pretty clear though she only signed up as a way of attending the event on the cheap. She’s spent most of it complaining that her boyfriend isn’t allowed to get more involved, or that there are activities she wants to do that she can‘t, or blaming us when she’s not ready on time for her next activity, even though all the other slaves can get ready on time without a problem.”
“What about the other one?” I asked.
“Pretty N Pink” she said. “Well we sometimes get young people turning up thinking it’s going to be all Saturday mourning TV gungings, and good looking people with whipped cream. Now she’s here she’s afraid of anything outside her narrow comfort zone. Maybe I’d feel sorry for her, but it’s not like we don’t send detailed descriptions and accounts out of what to expect before they sign up, obviously some people just ignore that. She’s so quick to give up, she won’t push herself to do anything. You compare that to last night when you were clearly nervous about the mud, but you were willing to find out about it, and give it a go.”
“How do you know about that?” I asked.
“I was watching on the CCTV” she said. “Not to see you specifically.”
“Why then?” I asked.
“You know that man you were paired up with. What did you think off him?” she asked.
“Caramel Mocha” I said. “He seemed very nice.”
“Well we got talking in the bar a couple of nights ago, and we’ve seen quite a lot of each other since then. I even swapped the rota over so I was with him for his one on one yesterday mourning. I was tempted to swap you over last night, but didn‘t want to come over too strong” she said.
“He did mention he’d met a new girl he really liked while we were talking round the campfire” I replied.
“That is one good thing about the situation with you and The Great Bernard though. Me and Caramel Mocha have spent a lot of time together because of our involvement. I was glad to have someone there to help me unwind after the stressful time in the dungeon this mourning” she said.
“Do anything good?” I smiled.
“Very good” she smiled.

Shortly after that we arrived at our intended destination. It was a large marquee tent, I was told is normally used to host wedding receptions and other similar gatherings. I paused as we entered as I was hit by the heavenly smell of chocolate. Like most girls, and plenty of men I know I’m a big lover of chocolate. Not to the point I’d say it was better than sex. Especially after this mourning. Right now I’d tell anyone who said that to try being a little more adventurous.
I looked around and this part of the marquee consisted of decorated round tables and chairs. In one corner was a café counter. Above it was a sign with the name Chocolate Heaven. On and around the counter was a beautiful looking range of desserts and chocolate. As me and Sam moved forward I discovered the source of the smell. In front of us was a waist high fence that surrounded a 7 metre diameter wall that enclosed a large pool of a chocolate coloured liquid. It looked like it formed a complete circle, although the back section was behind a curtain. In the middle was a 2 metre high tower, from the top of which the chocolate cascaded down the side of the tower into the pool below. Looking around the pool I saw 7 people lying in the pool, bathing in the liquid.
“Is that chocolate?” I asked.
“It’s chocolate cake batter” answered Sam. “It’s a lot easier to make that work. Do you like it?”
“It looks wonderful” I said.
“It’s our big new addition this weekend” Sam said. “It’s been a complex project. Luckily a couple of regulars know a bit about engineering and construction and volunteered their time. Even so it took quite a bit of effort to get it right, and that much chocolate batter makes it one of the more expensive messes to source. It’s a big indication of the growing popularity that we can afford something like this.”
“Are you two just going to stand there?” I heard someone call out.
We looked over and saw a table positioned next to the fence with some familiar faces sitting at it. Sitting there were Verona and Sorrento, Caramel Mocha and my husband The Great Bernard. Bernard indicated the seat empty seat next to him where a plate of chocolates and a juice from the café had been brought for me.
“I heard you two had a few issues” said Verona.
“It’s a long story” I replied. “We’ve worked a lot out now though.”
“We’ve been showing him around” Verona said.
“It’s a lot different to what I expected” Bernard said.
“I found the same thing” I said. “I didn’t expect to enjoy things as much as I did or meet so many great people.”
“We’ve met the person responsible for getting us in to this” said Sorrento.
“That’s not quite accurate” said Caramel Mocha. “It was before I took over as head of the entertainment division.”
“It turns out Caramel Mocha is from the family that own the theme park about an hour North from here. Our first messy experience was when I was somehow convinced to be tied up and have pies thrown at me as part of a charity event on a visit there” explained Verona.
“You enjoyed it in the end” said Sorrento. “You always volunteer to be tied up and have pies thrown at on the archery range.”
“Yeah, I almost enjoyed that as much as getting my revenge on you in the servants quarters a couple of hours ago” replied Verona.
“Do you two get messy very often?” asked Bernard.
“A lot at these weekends” said Verona. “The rest of the time he gets me messy maybe once every 4 to 6 weeks, depending on the circumstances.”
“Speaking of getting messy our time slot is almost upon us” said Sam. “Are you going to be OK here Great Bernard and Sorrento?”
“They’ll be watching their wives near naked and covered in chocolate” said Verona. “I’m sure they’ll be fine”

Me, Sam , Verona and Caramel Mocha headed to a door at the back of the marquee that led to the changing area. All I needed to do was remove my robe and shoes while Sam and Verona got changed. I saw they were removing even more than me.
“Are you two going topless?” I asked surprised.
“Why not?” said Verona. “No-ones going to see anything under all the chocolate.”
I found myself laughing naughtily, and decided I’d be adventurous and join them, removing my top, and putting an arm over my breasts.
“Something just occurred to me Sam” said Verona.
“What?” Sam asked.
“Well Nurse Bianca’s here as a slave” said Verona. “Yet this isn’t a one on one, or an activity where you need to make up numbers, so why was she assigned this?”
“We still assign slaves activities when all necessary roles are filled” said Sam. “We’ve had a couple of slaves here this afternoon now some of the activities are winding down for the weekend. One of the handlers did suggest swapping Bianca over with one of the other newbies who’s down for the dunk tank, but I didn’t think it was fare to reward their bratty behaviour.”

Chapter 14:

Sam led the way to the edge of the pool that was behind the curtain I’d seen earlier. Caramel Mocha was already waiting. Him and Sam smiled at one another. He offered a hand as Sam stepped over the wall into the chocolate batter. It came up to just below her knee. We all joined her, first stepping in, and then crouching down until the chocolate came up to our shoulders. It was warm and thick and gooey. I lifted my right arm above the chocolate and saw it covered in a thick layer of chocolate that clung on to my hands. We found that although the chocolate wasn’t deep enough to swim in we could glide through it by pulling ourselves along the bottom with out hands. Sam and Caramel Mocha went off together to the right, me and Verona went off to the left to where our husbands were sat.

I gave Bernard a suggestive smile as I slowly positioned myself a couple of metres in front of him, still lying face down, my head still above the chocolate. I deliberately raised my arse up above the chocolate so Bernard could see it glistening as the thick layer of chocolate slowly dripped off it, leaving just a thin layer of chocolate covering it. I held that pose, I could feel Bernard’s eyes scanning my body. I lowered myself back down and glided to the central tower. With my back to the observers I raised myself to a kneeling position, with my waist being just under the chocolate. I reached out to the chocolate cascading down the tower, took a handful and slowly rubbed it over my body, concentrating particularly on my back, hips, shoulders and neck. I took several more handfuls over the next few minutes, enjoying the warm sensation on my skin and the heavenly smell.
I then took one more handful and let it cascade down my breasts, before turning back towards Bernard. I saw him look on wide eyed at my torso, naked apart from a glistening layer of chocolate. I slowly moved closer to him, neither of us breaking eye contact with the other. I took several more handfuls of chocolate and let them cascade down my breasts and body, creating a warm comforting sensation as it did. With chocolate still dripping from my hand I raised it above my head, letting drops drip down on to my face, before bringing my hand back down and seductively licked the beautiful tasting chocolate off my hand, one finger at a time.
“Are you enjoying yourself Great Bernard” I called out.
He didn’t need to answer, the puppy dog smile on his face said it all. I reclined back in a seductive pose, my head still above the chocolate. I lifted one of my legs above the surface and slowly rubbed chocolate over them. I continued to do so with my other legs and arms, before taking a large handful, holding it above my head and slowly letting it pour over my face. I did this several times before wiping my eyes, my face now covered in chocolate. I then leant slowly back in the chocolate until my hair had also been dipped in the chocolate, saturating it in the thick mess. I closed my eyes and leant back until only my nose and mouth stuck up above the surface of the chocolate.
I spent several minutes enjoying the heavenly smell and warm sensation. I was then shocked as I felt a short kiss placed on my lips. I opened my eyes in shock, and gave out a child like giggle as I looked up and saw Verona’s chocolate covered features. As I sat up she knelt behind me and used her hands to massage my neck and shoulders.
“Look at their faces” said Verona.
I looked up at Bernard, I cringed a little as we exchanged nervous guilty smiles with one another.
“Well I couldn’t let those two have all the fun” said Verona.
I looked around at the other bathers in the fountain, and spotted Sam and Caramel Mocha in each others arms, rubbing the chocolate over each other, and exchanging passionate kisses with one another.
Verona moved around to my side and offered an arm out. I raised myself up from my reclined position to a kneeling position. We held each others hands as we knelt face to face, moving closer to one another. I giggled as I felt our breasts press against each others. Verona let go of my right hand and grabbed a handful of chocolate and rubbed it over my back. I reached down for a handful of chocolate and returned the favour, slowly rubbing the chocolate over her back. We rubbed each others backs until our hands found our way down to each others bottoms. Verona took another handful of thick chocolate, and this time held it above our breasts and let the chocolate drizzle down on to them. I glanced over at Bernard, smiling sultrily, before taking a handful of chocolate and letting it drizzle over Verona’s face, a favour she quickly returned.
“Are you two OK sitting their?” Verona called out.
I then giggled naughtily as Verona whispered her next comment in my ear.
“Well they won’t be able to stand up for a while.
With that she leant in and we exchanged a last playful kiss before separating a little, and reclining back down in the chocolate.

I continued to both relax and play in the chocolate until we were all called back at the end of our time slot. We were able to rinse ourselves off in the changing rooms, before going out to find Sorrento and Bernard.
“Did you enjoy that?” I asked Bernard.
“Very much” he blushed. “What about you?”
“Third best thing I’ve done today” I said. It had been that kind of day.
“I’m sure we can push it down the rankings still” suggested Bernard.
“What have you got in mind?” I asked.
“Well now your slave duties are over I can finally join you in your room” he said. “We should have a bit of time together up there. I imagine you’ll want to be back down for the closing ceremony, and hopefully we’ll have time for a quick visit to the conference hall before that closes.”
“Got anything in mind?” I asked.
“Some of the stuff you asked me to buy will be waiting down there. I also saw a range of flat pack dungeon furniture as well. I might pick something out to take home. After that and the closing ceremony I was thinking we could get dinner at one of the restaurants” said Bernard.
“I’m not interrupting am I” said Sam. “It’s just that the end of this last evening a group of us get together for a last private drink together in one of the log cabins. Us four will be there, as will Bad Attitude and Dead Ringer. We’d like you two to come along as well.”
“That sounds great” I said. “When is it taking place?”
“If you meet us by the lost property office in the main entrance hall at 12PM we’ll show you the rest of the way” she replied. “We have some spare torches so you can find your way back afterwards, or you could just do what a lot do and just crash in one of the adjacent log cabins until mourning.”
“Where were you meeting again?” asked Bernard.
“Midnight at the Lost and Found.”

Chapter 15:

On that note I shall end things. I could go on with stories of what we did that night, and even more stories from future visits to Westbrook Manor, but I think their best saved for another time.
Once me and The Great Bernard had both got home, to where he was just plain Brandon, we had the big discussion we’d said we’d have. It was a lot easier than our first talk in the dungeon. By then I think we both knew what we wanted and realised that just because it didn’t subscribe to the normal conventions of a husband/wife relationship, that was no reason not to do what we both wanted. I’m now continuing my roll as a slave at Westbrook Manor under the slightly modified avatar of Lady Bianca (so I don’t always have to wear the same costume) and the Great Bernard now acts as a master during several one on one encounters over the weekend, if I’m lucky with the scheduling they even let me watch sometimes. Don’t worry though, he always saves his best stuff for his one on one with me.

We’ve remained great friends with many of the people we met that weekend and future weekends, and are in regular contact with many of them outside of the conventions. In fact next month we’re invited to Bad Attitude and Dead Ringer’s (or Marvin and Patti’s) anniversary party. Verona and Sorrento (or Nicola and Tom) are invited as well.

Perhaps the biggest change though has been outside the conventions. Brandon now gets me messy at least once a month, and once a month we spend some time using the piece of flat pack dungeon furniture we picked out. Sometimes we do both at the same time. It’s not just our sex lives that have improved now, we loved each other before, but the intensity of the feelings we have for one other has increased immeasurably now we’ve both exposed every part of ourselves to each other.
It’s a bit of a cliché to say be true to the one you love, but now I truly realise the importance of it, as it’s only when you expose every aspect of yourself to someone that you can feel like you’ve truly and completely connected with them. If you take nothing else from my story, please always remember that.

I’ve been Nurse Bianca, now known as Lady Bianca, or if you prefer just Suzi. If you do ever pay a visit to a certain convention at a certain manor house, come over and say hi.

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Lindsey from Hollyoaks pink gunge

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