by Gow, Kailin
“Good.” He reached for her hand. “Come on. You’ve graduated to the next level.” He guided her to the couch, but before she sat down, he slowly and meticulously took off every stitch of clothing she had on. Grinning, he said, “The better to help you feel every movement of every tool.”
“Right,” she said knowingly.
“Lie down and close your eyes.”
She did as she was told, then Errol took her hands and set them on the armrest above her head. Moments later she felt a funny prickling sensation across her belly.
“I have no idea,” she confessed.
He passed the instrument slowly over one breast, dipped into the valley then up and over the other breast. She nearly opened her eyes, the sensation was so strange and foreign.
“You're not concentrating on what it could be.”
“It’s funny. It tickles.” She concentrated. “This is another pastry thing, isn’t it?”
“Could be.”
“A roller docker… or dough prickler?”
“Right again.” He set it down and quickly brought out the next test.
Three dull blades plied at her skin in unison. “That’s easy,” she said. “A pastry blender.”
“Okay. How ‘bout this?”
Two slightly sharper blades rocked back and forth over her thigh. “One of those things you use to chop herbs.”
“The name?”
“Oh, something weird and funny.”
“Like?”
“Mezzanine?”
“Close.”
“Mezza… something.”
“You got half of it right. Think of the moon.”
“The moon?” She rifled thought her culinary vocabulary. “The moon… lunar? Oh, I know. Mezzaluna!”
“There you go.”
Seconds later she felt a vaguely oval pressure on her upper thigh. It cut lightly into her skin, like… a… heart. “A cookie cutter,” she said.
“Too easy.”
She heard the tinkling of metal against metal as she waited.
“You’ll never get this one.”
Cold metal touched her breast, surrounding her nipple.
“A guess?” he offered.
“Too vague.”
“Here’s a hint.”
A strangely erotic sensation ran through her as something cool and hard prodded her nipple while the rim of metal remained on her skin. “That’s… odd.”
“Again?”
She nodded, partly to better discover what the instrument was, but also to feel that sensation again. The prodding motion repeated itself several times.
“I like it,” she finally said, “but I can’t figure out what it is.”
“Want to touch it?”
She brought her hands up, but he pushed them back down. “Not with your hands.”
Frowning, she didn’t understand where he was going until she felt the cold metal on her lips. She smiled as he gently nudged the instrument into her mouth. Running her tongue along the instrument, she tried to imagine what it looked like.
“Watch your tongue,” Errol warned.
The prod that’d aroused her nipple now worked its way to the center of the circular metal rod.
“The only thing I can think of,” she said, “is a cherry pitter.”
“Ooh, what a talented tongue you have there.”
She grinned behind her closed eyes as he set the pitter down and picked something else up. She heard a short, sharp intake of air then a tight suction pulled at the skin of her belly. “Hmmm. That’s strange.”
“I know you know this one.”
She felt nasty and dirty as the thought hit her. Of course she knew what it was… a baster. But she was curious to feel that sucking, suction sensation… elsewhere. “Try again,” she whispered.
He knew her too well. In the next instant the suction pulled on an already erect nipple. An excited gasp escaped her and her eyes flew open for the briefest second.
“Oh, you like that one, don’t you?”
“You surprised me, that’s all.” She tried to leave the lust out of her voice, but it still sneaked in.
“Well then, how’s this for a surprise.” He brought the baster to the sensitive nub of skin between her thighs.
“Oh, shit,” she cried out as she brought her hands down.
Errol quickly stopped her from touching the implement and brought her hands back over her head. “Don’t make me have to tie you up.”
Repeatedly he pushed the air out of the baster and set it on her to suck. “Too much pleasure can get redundant,” he finally said as he pulled it away. “We need to find something that will… bring another dimension to your senses. In the meantime, what instrument of the kitchen was able to bring such rapturous cries of pleasure out of you?”
She smiled. “A baster.”
“Like a turkey baster?”
She cracked her eyes open and glared at him. “What are you implying?”
He chuckled and put his hand over her eyes. “Never mind. Onto the next…”
A light tickling sensation ran over her wrists. Three times the light touch passed over her skin before Errol lifted her hands and put something under her wrist. Then she felt the unmistakable tug of rope binding her.
“Twine?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice suddenly losing its playful appeal. “Ready for that other dimension?”
Taryn hesitated. “Like what?”
In addition to being bound together, Taryn’s hands were secured to something that kept her from bringing her hands down in front of her.
“Do you trust me?”
Again, she hesitated.
“Just in case…” Something light and airy brushed across her face.
“A dishcloth?”
“Close.”
“Cheesecloth?”
“Perfect.” He set the cheesecloth over her eyes and reached under her head to knot it tightly.
“Errol?”
“Trust me,” he whispered into her ear. His hand clamped over one ankle and he pulled it up and secured it to the backside of the sofa with another cheesecloth, leaving her feeling vulnerable and over exposed. “Forget everything you hear. Forget everything you’ve seen. Forget everything you’ve tasted. Forget everything you can touch. Just feel.”
Taryn felt the sharp slap of something rigid yet pliable against her thigh. A surprised yelp escaped her.
“Like I said, too much pleasure can become redundant. Your mind, your body, your skin needs a more intense source of stimulation.”
Again the sharp slap on her inner thigh brought out a yelp.
“What implement could cause such delicious pain, Taryn?”
The sharp slap burned across her belly.
“A spatula?” she hissed.
“Too easy.” He tossed it aside.
A sound smack reverberated on her upper thigh. Already she could envision the red welt. Swallowing, she wondered how far he would take this.
“What is it, Taryn?” Errol asked as he brought it down again on her forearm.
She winced and brought in a sharp breath. “Something hard. Something inflexible.”
“You're thinking too much. Just feel it.”
Another smack came to her shoulder. “A wooden spoon,” she cried out.
“That’s my girl.”
“Errol…”
“A little reprieve from the pain, love?”
“Yes.”
He rolled something along her leg, starting at her ankle and rolling up to her knee. The implement had ridges or grooves and wasn’t quite round as it seemed to deviate from a straight course.
“I don’t know,” Taryn said.
“Maybe this will help.”
He turned the tool upward and Taryn immediately felt its sharp point. Not the sharpness of a knife, but the pointed end of…? She couldn’t quite imagine. Several times Errol rolled it from its rounded outer edge to the point and back to the rounded edge again.
“Now?
”
She shook her head. “It almost feels heart shaped.”
With a light touch, he trailed the point up the inner thigh of the leg that was pulled up to the side of the sofa. Slowly, he introduced the tool to her moistened lips.
“Errol?” Though strongly aroused, she feared his next move.
“Let go and trust me,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”
He gently nudged the tool in. It was wider, broader, bigger than she’d initially thought. Licking her lips, she surrendered to the odd yet pleasurable sensations the strange tool brought her.
Errol pulled it out, ran it along her lips then returned to push it in a little deep. With a gentle hand he rotated the implement inside her. She felt the workings of the ridges, the ebb and flow of pressure. Still rotating, he repeatedly pushed it in further then brought it out.
Surprised by how much pleasure the strange instrument brought her, she raised her hip to meet it with greater force.
“Don’t move,” Errol ordered.
Using every ounce of restraint, she remained still, losing herself in the solitary sensation of his tool.
“And if we add this?”
Something warm, moist and gently firm brushed along her lips just outside the rotating ridges inside. Errol’s lips and tongue were on her, while he continually plunged into her with the instrument.
“Damn it, Errol,” she cried out. She tugged at her wrists as the strength of the intense oncoming orgasm nearly tore her apart.
“Go ahead,” Errol whispered. “I want to see.”
The brushing motions along her lips quickened as did the spinning inside.
As her orgasm took hold of her entire body, she arched her back, opened her eyes wide under the veil of cheesecloth and let out an inhuman cry.
Chapter 16
“I told you, Taryn,” Errol said as he brought four freshly pressed shirts to the open suitcase on the bed. “I have to meet with my producer.”
“Last night it was all about teaching me the use of every kitchen utensil imaginable and now you're off to God knows where.” She idly spun the lemon reamer he’d used on her the night before between her fingers.
He shot a glance at the tool. “I’d wash that before using it if I were you, and be careful.”
Disgruntled, she tossed it on the bed beside her. It landed next to the plastic pastry brush he’d so artfully used along with the reamer. “You never mentioned this meeting before.”
“There are a lot of things I don’t mention.” He grabbed some socks and underwear out of a drawer and dumped them in the suitcase.
“How long will you be gone?”
“Two or three days. Four tops.”
“Why can’t I go with you?”
He glared at her. “Don’t turn into that girl, Taryn.”
Pouting, she looked at him. “What girl?”
“Needy and whiny.” He shut the suitcase. “Besides, you have schoolwork to keep you busy.”
“Does this have anything to do with Xaviera?”
“No.”
“She must have been exciting to be with.”
He gazed at her. Clearly he wanted to put an end to the conversation.
“I mean, the woman positively oozes eroticism.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m just…” She let the statement hang in the air, hoping he’d reassure her.
“I’m here with you now, aren’t I?”
“Yes, but…”
He snickered and shook his head. “Taryn, Xaviera was a thrill for a minute or so. I’ll admit I like things a little wild and kinky, but she brought kinky to a whole other level; a level I had no interest in.”
“So, you’re not running off to…?”
“You’ll see for yourself when you go to school tomorrow and see her in class.” He clipped his suitcase shut, picked it up and leaned over to kiss her, entwining his tongue with hers. His free hand grabbed hold of her cheeks and pulled her in closer, his mouth devouring hers.
She kissed him back just as passionately, wanting to show him how much she wanted him, how she should be the only woman for him. She grabbed his hair and tugged him closer to her, kissing him deeply, while her other hand found the front of his pants and slipped inside to grab hold of his hard erection.
She ran her fingers up and down his shaft, circling the tip and pulling on it. She heard Errol groan, “Taryn, where have you been hiding this minx?”
“Shhh…” Taryn said and went down on her knees, unzipped Errol’s pants, and pulled out his massive length. What would it be to taste him, to completely devour him? She looked up into Errol’s eyes from where she was posed in front of his hard-on, and took him all in while keeping her eyes on his.
He closed his eyes, arching his back, dropping the suitcase to the ground, as he gently pulled Taryn’s head closer, guiding her. She took him in with relish, sucking and licking him until he shuddered.
“Taryn,” he groaned. “You are the most beautiful and sexiest creature…” He pulled her up and turned her around, pushing her panties down. “You’ve no need to feel so insecure about yourself.” He drove his hard-on deep into her, she buckled forward. His hands gripped her waist, and he plunged into her harder and faster. Within minutes, she cried out her climax while he groaned his shortly after. “No woman,” Errol said between breaths, “should feel insecure, if she can make me want to fuck so hard and come so hard like you do.”
*****
The next day, he was right. Xaviera was there, all breasts and hips and sultry lips. As she stood at the head of the class watching her students file in, she absentmindedly played with the long chain that dangled between her breasts.
The briefest scathing glance shot at Taryn told her it would be another long and excruciating hour in the presence of Errol’s ex.
“Buddy up with me,” Henri said when they were given the task of making a trio of pastries.
Trying to avoid looking at Xaviera, Taryn took care of the petits choux while Henri worked on the chocolte éclairs. Together they made the perfect batch of mille feuilles.
“Nervous?” Henri asked when Taryn dropped a wooden spoon for the third time.
Madame X had begun to circulate around the room, taking notes, making comments, tasting, poking and prodding the various pastries. She was headed their way and Taryn anticipated the comments to come.
“C’est beau,” she said as she picked up and examined one of Henri’s perfect éclairs. She picked up the milles feuilles and squeezed until the custard spilled out.
Taryn held her breath. What would the witch have to say about her petit chou?
“See,” Henri said when Xaviera ignored the little pastry and walked on to the next team. “You got all worked up for nothing.”
“Yeah,” Taryn said with a shrug. “Who knew indifference could be so pleasant.”
He grinned and leaned in closer. “You need to cut loose a bit. A few of us are meeting for a few drinks after class. Why don’t you come?”
Taryn considered his tempting invitation. Since all her free time was spent with Errol, she hardly knew any of the students in her classes. Going out and getting to know people could do her some good, she thought. Besides, with Errol gone she was all alone in the apartment and it would be a long, dreary night.
The class let out and Taryn sighed her relief. Another day in the presence of Madame X that she could cross off her calendar. After cleaning up and dumping off her apron, she followed Henri out of the Institute. The sun was warm despite the cool chill in the air.
“It’s just around the block.”
They arrived at the small and intimate establishment, peeked inside and waved their presence to the waiter before choosing a little table set up outside on the sidewalk. Henri ordered a bottle of wine and, while he didn’t have Errol’s degree of worldliness and finesse, he had a quiet and reserved confidence she liked.
“Where is everyone?” Taryn asked. She peered down the street in the
direction they’d come from and couldn’t recognize any of the people walking by.
Henri shifted a moment then turned to the waiter who had him taste the first glass of wine. He nodded his acceptance and the waiter bowed his retreat. Henri swirled the ruby red wine around in his glass and grinned.
“They’re not coming, are they?” Taryn said.
He shook his head. “Sorry. I should have come straight out and said I wanted to have a drink with you.”
Smiling, she raised her glass. “Well, you got me here, and I’m happy to have a drink with you.”
“So you forgive my faux pas. I’m not used to this.”
She took a sip of wine and nodded. She liked his frank honesty. “To tell you the truth, it’s kind of cute. I mean, it’s cool that you don’t have an established pick up line or two.”
Cocking his head to the side, he laughed. “I never was that cool guy who had it easy with the ladies.”
“Yet, you're so adorably handsome.”
He blushed and Taryn wanted to laugh. He was refreshing in every way.
“You like?” Henri asked as he held up his glass of wine.
Though her knowledge of wine was definitely lacking, she’d recently become accustomed to very fine wines with Errol. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was a lack in depth of flavor that left her a little flat. “It’s good,” she said all the same. No doubt the bottle had cost a fraction of the price Errol paid, but she was touched by Henri’s eagerness to please.
For a few moments they sat in silence, watching passers-by who hurried to run errands, rush to get home, or simply stroll amidst the bistros and shops.
“Is the Institute everything you thought it would be?” Taryn finally asked.
“It’s certainly a lot more work than I would have thought, but I’m looking forward to learning to work with ingredients I’m not used to. I think that will be the next lesson. What about you?”
“I’ve enjoyed every single second so far and…”
“Really? You didn’t seem to be enjoying yourself yesterday.”
“Ah, yes. Madame X.” Taryn shook her head and chuckled. “What a number. It’s hard to believe she teaches pastry making when you look at how she fills out a dress. She’s probably never eaten anything she’s made. I mean, did you see that itsy bitsy tiny waist. I could probably wrap my hands around it.”