10 - Do You Have Something You Need to Get Off Your Chest?

"You're going to cook.. my breasts?" asked Elizabeth, a little incredulously.

"Surely. That is what this particular oven is for, after all." Mr. Riggs replied, happily.

Elizabeth recognized the oven. It was the second one she had put together for Mr. Riggs. She had wondered at the time just what it was for. The numerous take downs and rebuilds, however, not to mention several special "features" Mr. Riggs had designed and had her build and install, had blunted her curiosity somewhat, and she had been glad to see the back of the thing when Mr. Riggs had moved her to another project.

Mr. Riggs had just finished removing the last of those special features from the interior of the oven, leaving only an irregular glass box above the metal base. The irregularity of the box came from the fact that one of the sides, rather than standing at a straight ninety degree vertical, was sloped to somewhere around fifty or sixty degrees. Two centered holes dominated that side, with thin, light blue padding surrounding them.

"A girl simply places her breasts through those holes there, laying her chest and torso down onto that padding, and then just allows the oven work to its magic." Mr. Riggs said, enthusiastically.

"Uh, I see." replied Elizabeth. The process didn't sound particularly magical to her.

"What was that thing supposed to do?" she asked, pointing to the device that Mr. Riggs had just removed from the oven.

"Ah, that was supposed to be an automatic nipple injector." said Mr. Riggs, patting it fondly.

Elizabeth winced at the visuals Mr. Riggs' casual description of the thing had brought into her mind's eye. She had to force her hands not to come up and cover her chest protectively at the thought.

"I couldn't get it to work, though." Mr. Riggs continued, oblivious to Elizabeth's discomfort. "I needed it to be able to sense where a girl's nipples were, since every girl's breasts are a little different, so it could inject seasonings and such directly into the center of each breast. Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out how to get it to differentiate nipple from non-nipple during tests, so it either does nothing or just injects at random."

Elizabeth looked at Mr. Riggs, wondering just how, and with who, he had performed these tests. She thought, perhaps, that it might be best not to ask.

"It also doesn't do well in the heat. Some of the components can't tolerate oven level temperatures. The prototype nearly melted completely." Mr. Riggs finished, sighing. "Still, I'm looking forward to this test. The idea behind this oven is one of my favorites, and I'm very curious to see how it works out in practice."

"Oh. Um, I thought we might just be doing one of my legs or something, in the limb cooker, like last time." said Elizabeth, a little hopefully.

"There's no need. We already know the limb cooker functions acceptably well, and besides, this will be much more interesting." said Mr. Riggs.

"Ah. I suppose so." Elizabeth replied, noncommittally.

Mr. Riggs heard the tone in her voice, and looked at her, wryly.

"You did agree to help me test out my ovens, Elizabeth. I've fulfilled my half of the bargain, so now I'd like you to fulfill yours." said Mr. Riggs, not unkindly.

"Yeah, Mr. Riggs. I'll do it." Elizabeth replied, quickly, remembering the scene she'd caused in this room two days before.

"It's just.. I didn't expect to have to be naked while doing it." she finished, a little lamely.

"Nonsense, you won't be nude at all. Merely topless. Think of it like going to the beach." Mr. Riggs replied, gamely.

Elizabeth thought about bringing up that she had never been to a topless beach before, and that she wasn't even sure if there were, in fact, any around locally at all, but decided that it didn't matter in either case. She had agreed, and the joy she had felt when she had acquired the powder that filled up her little bottle meant that she couldn't really back out anyway. Her little bottle made her very happy. If this was the price Mr. Riggs wanted her to pay for it, then she would. Besides, maybe it wouldn't be so bad, anyway.

She wasn't thinking that five minutes later, when Mr. Riggs was vigorously scrubbing her breasts with the rough green pad that had been beside the sink at the lab station.

Mr. Riggs had told her to take off her shirt and bra, then scrub herself down at the sink. She had done so, moderately embarrassed, under his watchful eye, until he had snorted, stated, "I said "scrub" girl." and taken the pad from her with one hand. He had then grabbed her by the back of the neck with his other hand, his long fingers wrapping almost all the way around it, bent her over the sink, and proceeded to scour several layers of skin off her boobs. At least, that's what it felt like to Elizabeth.

She stood, several minutes later, looking down at her slightly reddened skin as Mr. Riggs dried her off with a towel.

"There we go. All clean and ready to cook. Go ahead and slip into the oven, Elizabeth, while it's warming up. I'd like to see how the fit is." said Mr. Riggs.

"Um, okay." Elizabeth agreed, a bit nervously.

Elizabeth moved to stand in front of the oven. The padding around the holes was torso shaped, more or less, and ran down the length of the oven, so no part of her skin would directly touch hot glass. The padding wasn't terribly thick, though, especially around the edges of the holes. The oven was positioned just at the edge of the workbench, so all she had to do to put her breasts through the holes was lean down over it. She did so, feeling the warm air in the oven surrounding the exposed skin of her chest.

"How is it?" asked Mr. Riggs, peering at her interestedly.

"Uh, a little uncomfortable. The height is a bit off." Elizabeth replied.

"Yes, so I see. Let's see if we can adjust that a bit better." said Mr. Riggs.

Elizabeth straightened up with a sigh, pulling her breasts back through the holes and out of the oven. The oven had been set too low on the workbench for her. When she'd bent over far enough to reach it, the angle of the side of the oven as she leaned against it didn't match the angle of her torso. She had tried to adjust herself to it, but trying to match the odd angle of the oven with her body had meant bending her spine uncomfortably, which also forced her rump to jut out embarrassingly.

Mr. Riggs had Elizabeth lift each side of the oven so he could slide spacers underneath it, which brought the whole device up several inches. Elizabeth tried the angle again, still finding it not quite right. One final adjustment later, and Elizabeth was bent over the oven, more or less comfortably, leaning against it with her breasts dangling in the warming air.

"Hmm. This presents a problem. How am I supposed to baste you like this?" said Mr. Riggs, looking down at Elizabeth and the oven.

The oven opened on the side opposite of Elizabeth's breasts, which were currently facing the wall. They solved this by moving the whole apparatus to one end of the work bench, so the oven and its contents would be perpendicular to the wall, rather than parallel. There was just enough room between the workbench and Mr. Riggs' desk for Elizabeth to stand in to make this feasible. This allowed Mr. Riggs access to Elizabeth's chest, even though it was still at something of an awkward angle.

"One more thing to add to the list of stuff to redesign." said Mr. Riggs, standing back and contemplating his oven.

"Uh, Mr. Riggs?" Elizabeth asked. "Where am I supposed to put my arms? The oven is too wide to let me rest them on the workbench, and there isn't enough heat padding to just let them dangle alongside my body."

"Hmm. Let me think about that for a moment, Elizabeth." replied Mr. Riggs, thoughtfully. "Can you just hold them up, out of the way?"

"Um, probably not for the whole time we're doing this." said Elizabeth, uncertainly.

"Well, I suppose that we could always just tie your arms behind you, to keep them out of the way. I think that will have to do for now." said Mr. Riggs.

"Oh. I.. I suppose." said Elizabeth, her uncertain tone deepening.

Mr. Riggs poked around under the work bench for a moment, then produced a coil of white cotton clothes line. He looked speculatively over at Elizabeth's arms, then cut a short length from the coil.

"Come over here and turn around, please, Elizabeth." instructed Mr. Riggs, putting the rest of the line back under the work bench.

Elizabeth lifted herself off the oven, then stood in front of Mr. Riggs, facing away from him.

"Arms behind your back, if you please."

Elizabeth wasn't sure that she did please, but crossed her wrists behind her back anyway with a sigh. Mr. Riggs surprised her, however. Rather than looping the rope around her wrists, as she had expected, he coiled it around her elbows several times instead, then slowly drew them together. Elizabeth made a surprised sound as he did.

"Wha.. ah! Uh, Mr. Riggs, I don't think that's going to work." said Elizabeth, hastily, as she rolled her shoulders and wiggled her arms, trying to relieve the tension building across her upper torso.

"Don't be silly, Elizabeth. It will work just fine. Girls your age are usually remarkably flexible. Plus, this will have the additional benefit of thrusting your chest out, making it easier to seat as much of your breasts as possible into the oven." said Mr. Riggs. "And stop squirming so much."

Ignoring her continuing squeaks of protest, Mr. Riggs gradually brought Elizabeth's elbows together behind her back. He heard a few popping sounds from her joints, as cartilage and tendons adjusted to new, unfamiliar positions, but nothing that actually seemed to pain the girl, despite her squirming wiggles. Mr. Riggs looped the thin line around her arms several more times, trying to create a wide bind that wouldn't cut too much circulation from Elizabeth's forearms or hands, then tied the knot off.

Mr. Riggs stood back a bit, to admire the effect Elizabeth's bound arms created. The girl had lost quite a bit of weight over the past weeks, and while it wouldn't be anywhere near fair to describe her as thin, she was definitely much more slim than she had been. She actually had a noticeable waist now, instead of rolls of baby fat, and her legs and arms looked better now, too. She must have been doing at least some of the exercises that Mr. Riggs had suggested, he thought, because while her arms and legs had slimmed down, they were also filling out. There was some muscle tone now, where once there had been none.

Mr. Riggs turned Elizabeth around, to see what effect binding her arms had on her front. The first thing he noticed was her face, flushed red from the strain of the tension in her shoulders and from the embarrassment of her position. The second thing he noticed was how much more prominently her breasts jutted out from her chest. Elizabeth had been possessed of a sizable chest before she had started to lose weight, and they had retained their size even as every other measurement the girl possessed had begun to shrink. Mr. Riggs thought that they might even be slightly larger now than before, although, on balance, perhaps they just looked bigger because the rest of her had gotten smaller. Whatever the case, with her arms bound behind her like they were, her fulsome chest was being displayed most dramatically and to great effect.

"That'll do." was all Mr. Riggs said, after looking at Elizabeth for a moment longer. The girl had grown even more red as she watched her teacher take his time assessing her.

"I think we're ready to actually start cooking now, Elizabeth. Why don't you slide back into the oven, and we can begin."

"Um.. Okay, I guess." Elizabeth replied.

Once Elizabeth's breasts were again seated in the now quite warm oven, Mr. Riggs arranged the rest of the ingredients and implements he would need along the workbench in font of the oven. There was a rectangular, shallow, double sided pan, which Mr. Riggs slid into the oven a few inches below Elizabeth's breasts, resting it on pre-installed brackets. The pan was divided into two sides because Mr. Riggs intended to try out two different sauces, one for each breast. These sauces he placed at each side of the oven, next to the breast they would be flavoring. Mr. Riggs also had two sets of brushes and basters, to apply the sauces without mixing the flavors together, and a thermometer, which he hung from the front edge of the double sided pan.

"Okay, Elizabeth. I'm going to baste you now, so no more moving from the oven." Mr. Riggs said, firmly.

"Uh, okay, Mr. Ri.." Elizabeth started to reply, but stopped short when Mr. Riggs sprayed her left breast generously with cold sauce, letting out a breathy, surprised sound."

"Ah-ahh!"

Mr. Riggs continued to squirt sauce on her for another few seconds, then set the squeeze bottle down and picked up one of the brushes. He dipped the brush into the puddle of sauce that had formed beneath her dangling left breast, sopping up as much of the fluid as he could, then started coating all the uncovered bits of skin with gentle but firm strokes. The bristles of the brush tickled the skin of Elizabeth's breasts, which were still a little sensitive from their vigorous scrubbing a few minutes earlier. Once her entire breast was covered in sauce, Mr. Riggs proceeded to re-brush the entire thing all over again, much more methodically this time. Before every stroke, he would drag the brush around in the sauce pooling below her breast, to ensure a thick, even application. Then he would set the brush along the outer edge of her breast and slowly draw it inwards. Every stroke ended at her nipple, the rough bristles of the brush passing over it causing her to inhale sharply each time, which made her hanging globes quiver and tremble for a moment.

"Your left breast is getting a lemon-honey based sauce. I thought it would be interesting to try, and Miss Evans agreed, and that it would also be a good contrast to the sauce for your right breast, which will be getting a more traditional barbecue style treatment. I'm not sure on the details of the barbecue sauce; I simply liked the way it smelled." said Mr. Riggs, as he concentrated on his task.

Once he finished with her left breast, Mr. Riggs repeated the procedure on her right. Elizabeth could tell that each breast was being basted in its own unique sauce, because the consistencies and textures were uneven: each sauce felt different as it was applied. The sensations as the brush passed along her flesh was maddening, and Elizabeth couldn't help squirming around a little as Mr. Riggs finished with her right breast's second coat.

"Stop that, Elizabeth, or you'll get sauce everywhere." Mr. Riggs ordered. He frowned at her as she stopped her wiggling movements, mostly.

"Perhaps I need find a way to attach some straps." said Mr. Riggs, speculatively. "The roast shouldn't be able to disrupt the cooking process. I'll have to think about it."

"Anyway, that looks pretty good. I'm going to close the oven up and turn up the heat, so we can really get cooking." said Mr. Riggs, looking satisfied. "I'm not going to ease it up as slowly as last time, Elizabeth, so do let me know if it gets too hot."

With that, Mr. Riggs closed the oven door and adjusted the temperature dial. Elizabeth couldn't see how far he had turned it up, as it was on the side of the oven opposite her, but she felt the heat begin to rise almost immediately. She squirmed again in response, just a little, despite the look Mr. Riggs gave her as she did so.

The heat increased quickly and dramatically, and before long Elizabeth was starting to breath heavily and sweat a little.

"Uh, Mr. Riggs, it's getting pretty hot." Elizabeth said, weakly.

"Already, Elizabeth? It's not even nearly as hot as your arm got." said Mr. Riggs, peering into the oven at the thermometer. "Can't you try a bit more?"

"Ah, I guess, Mr. Riggs. It doesn't hurt yet, it's just really hot." Elizabeth replied.

Hot was understating it, she thought. Elizabeth could feel the heat roiling around inside of the oven, seeming to billow up around her breasts in waves. It didn't hurt yet, but it was uncomfortable, for sure. The heat was affecting the sauce coating her skin as well. It, along with a little sweat, was starting to drip down her breasts. At the angle she was at, her nipples were, just barely, the lowest part of her breasts. Most of the fluids flowing down her flesh accumulated on them before dripping off at a steadily increasing rate.

Mr. Riggs seemed to notice too, because without warning he opened the oven and reached in, with a brush in hand, to start re-coating her breasts. Much of the heat of the oven rushed out when he did so, and Elizabeth enjoyed the moment of respite from it.

That moment ended when the first brush full of hot sauce was slathered across her flesh. Elizabeth thought that the sauce felt at least as hot as the air inside the oven had, if not more. She bit her lip as Mr. Riggs carefully re-coated every inch of her skin, who paused only to switch brushes when he finished one breast and started on the other.

Completing his task, Mr. Riggs closed the oven back up, once again trapping Elizabeth's breasts in with the building heat. To her dismay, she saw him turn the temperature dial up again.

"You're doing quite well, Elizabeth. I'm very happy with our progress so far." said Mr. Riggs, obviously pleased. "The oven is performing according to design, even if access is a bit inconvenient. How is the temperature feeling?"

"It's not as hot as it was before you opened up the oven to baste me." Elizabeth panted. "But it's getting hot again quickly. Uh, how much did you turn up the temperature just now?"

"Not much. Don't worry about it, just let me know if it starts to hurt more than you can stand." Mr. Riggs replied, his tone reassuring.

Elizabeth wasn't actually reassured by his reply, but didn't say so. She just breathed, trying to slow down her panting, and concentrated on the heat building around her chest.

A few more minutes passed, during which Elizabeth was sure that the heat in the oven had returned to its prior level, and then surpassed it. The heat was extreme, and it felt like her skin was baking tighter around the flesh of her breasts.

"Mr. Riggs. I.. I think I need to be basted again." Elizabeth said.

"Oh, my, yes. You're starting to dry out, it looks like." said Mr. Riggs, looking in to the oven at her hot, trembling flesh.

He repeated his earlier actions, this time adding more sauce to the pan below her breasts before he re-basted them. The relatively cool sauce felt heavenly when he brushed it on her skin, and she almost sighed in relief as the tightness of the skin of her breasts seemed to ease with every stroke. Again, after Mr. Riggs finished with her basting, he touched the temperature dial, turning up the heat even further.

"Ah, Mr. Riggs. I think that's enough. Please don't go any higher." Elizabeth begged. She could feel the skin of her breasts throbbing now, the discomfort was just below the level of true pain. Her nipples seemed to be taking the worst of it. They constantly felt like they were being dipped in molten wax. Within them, Elizabeth could feel the heat emanating up from the pool of steaming fluid in the pan below, most which had probably dripped at least once from her nipples already.

"Yes, your breasts are now a bit hotter than your arm got." Mr. Riggs replied. "This is about how hot I'd hoped to get. All we need to do now is wait and allow the sauces to really bake in to your breasts, just basting occasionally."

"W-wait? How long do we need to wait?" Elizabeth asked, her chest heaving as she breathed in and out deeply and fairly rapidly.

"Hmm, probably forty-five minutes to an hour, give or take." Said Mr. Riggs, offhandedly. "I'd like for your skin to take in as much of the flavor of the sauces as possible."

"An.. An hour?" Elizabeth almost wailed.

"Ideally." replied Mr. Riggs. "I'm thirsty. I'll be back in a moment."

Leaving her resting against his oven, breasts thrust into its heat and arms bound behind her, Mr. Riggs got up and poured himself a large beaker of cold water from the lab station sink. Elizabeth watched, panting heavily, as he slowly drank off the whole thing, then refilled it and drank off half the beaker again.

"Cooking is thirsty work." Mr. Riggs said, with a cheery smile, as he returned.

He had brought the half full beaker with him, at least, and tipped it up to Elizabeth's lips and poured it, very slowly, into her mouth. She drank it gratefully, and was almost shocked by how cold it felt flowing down her throat. Once she had finished, Mr. Riggs set the beaker down and proceeded to, again, re-baste her.

The sauces steaming away below her breasts were everything that Elizabeth had been dreading they would be. She moaned a bit as the first brush stroke smeared the hot liquid against her skin. It felt like the liquid was boiling hot, although she knew it actually probably wasn't even close to that temperature. Still, when Mr. Riggs finished his first stroke, which ended by coating her nipple in the heated fluid, she bit her lip and shuddered in reaction, her eyes rolling back a little as she did so.

Of course, every brush stroke when Mr. Riggs basted her breasts ended at her nipples. It became a struggle just to hold still as he finished lathering the hot sauces back onto her flesh.

"Yes, I definitely need to put some straps on this oven." Mr. Riggs mused to himself, as he finished up his basting. "Relax, Elizabeth. You've only got about fifty minutes to go until you're done."

Elizabeth moaned again, which trailed off into a little whimper as Mr. Riggs closed the oven back up. Thankfully, he didn't turn up the heat any further.

The next hour or so became a trial of endurance for Elizabeth. Every six or seven minutes, Mr. Riggs would open up the oven and re-coat her breasts in hot sauce, while Elizabeth did her best not to squirm off the device. During the time in between bastings, Elizabeth would simply stare straight ahead, panting in regular, deep breaths, concentrating on the heat flowing around and into her breasts. She simply couldn't do anything else. The heat of the oven had become her whole world, and her breasts were how she was experiencing that world. So, it came as something of a shock when Mr. Riggs stood up and declared her "done".

"Well, Elizabeth. You're looking pretty good, I think you're about done." he said, peering into the oven happily.

Elizabeth, who felt like her entire life had been spent with her breasts in his oven, didn't comprehend him at first. After a few moments, though, her overheated brain processed his words, and she croaked out a reply.

"Done?"

"Yep. Let's turn the oven off and get you out of there." Mr. Riggs said.

He had to help her stand up. She was so weak kneed that he basically had to carry her away from the oven and around to the front of the work bench. He sat her up on the top of the bench, gave her another drink of cool water, and told her to lean back on to her bound hands.

"Got to let the meat rest." he said, winking at her.

The water Mr. Riggs had given her had seemed the most amazing thing she had ever received, even better than pep, and it soon revived her a bit. She looked around blearily, at the oven, at Mr. Riggs, who was futzing around with the oven, and then at the clock on the wall. She was amazed to discover that she really had been on the oven for only an hour, because it had seemed much, much longer to her. She sat, just breathing, for a few moments longer. Then she looked down at her chest.

If it was possible to get cooked, without actually, you know, getting cooked, then that was what had happened to her breasts. The sauce that Mr. Riggs had so lovingly basted on to them, over and over again, had sunk deeply into her skin. If Elizabeth had seen her breasts resting on a plate on a dining table, she would probably have assumed that they were fully cooked meat because of how dark with sauce they looked. They weren't cooked though, because Elizabeth could quite clearly feel every nerve ending in her breasts throbbing in time with her heart beat. Especially her nipples, which felt like they had been deep fried. If they weren't burnt, at least a little, then they were doing an awfully good impression of it.

Mr. Riggs finished whatever it was he was doing with the oven, then turned around to Elizabeth.

"Hold still for a moment, Elizabeth." Mr. Riggs said.

Something bright flashed several times, and Elizabeth looked up to see a small camera flash once more in Mr. Riggs' hands.

"Have to document the results." he said happily, finishing his photography and then putting the camera down on his desk.

"Now, lets take a closer look at you."

Mr. Riggs pulled the work bench chair in front of Elizabeth and sat down. Sitting in the chair, his head was just about perfectly level with her breasts as she sat on the bench. He put his hands around her, just above her waist, and leaned her forward, so that her chest jutted out at him. He let his hands rest on her hips as he examined her slowly heaving breasts closely.

"Yes, these look great. The sauce looks almost caramelized. It can't have done, the oven wasn't nearly hot enough for that, but it sort of looks it." said Mr. Riggs.

"And they smell heavenly!" he continued, as he leaned in close and inhaled deeply through his nose over each breast several times.

"My, I don't think I can wait any longer, I simply have to have a taste." Mr. Riggs said, enthusiastically. "The only question is which flavor to sample first."

"Honey-Lemon." he said, looking at her left breast, stained dark with sauce.

"Or barbecue." Mr. Riggs finished, turning his head towards her right breast, which was an even deeper, darker color than the left.

Apparently coming to a decision, he turned his head back towards Elizabeth's left breast, and enveloped her throbbing, sauce darkened nipple with his mouth.

Thankfully, he didn't chew her. At least, not at first. He seemed content to explore the flavors of her nipple with his lips and tongue, trapping the tender bud in place between his lips, and then rhythmically dragging his tongue across it, back and forth, up and down, eagerly sucking the sauce from her sensitive flesh.

Elizabeth wasn't sure what she would have done had her arms not been bound securely behind her back. Perhaps she would have arched her back, much as it already was, pushing out her breast and nipple, offering them up to the tide of sensation Mr. Riggs' mouth was engendering in them. Or, perhaps, she would have hunched herself down and away, attempting to withdraw her over-sensitized, nearly charred nerves, to shield them from being even further overwhelmed than they already were. Whatever she might have done didn't much matter though, because as she was, arms bound behind her and chest thrust out, there was only one thing she really could do, which was shudder and tremble as Mr. Riggs held her firmly and feasted on the nearly cooked flesh of her breast.

Finished with licking the sauce from the tip of her breast, Mr. Riggs then actually did begin to chew on her, just a bit. He gently nibbled on her, bringing his teeth down around her areola, then slowly dragging his mouth away until just her nipple remained trapped between them. He lashed the trapped nub with his tongue, while slowly rolling it back and forth between teeth that squeezed together with gentle but remorseless pressure.

If Elizabeth's arms hadn't been bound, she probably would have pushed Mr. Riggs' head away from her violently in reaction. Since she couldn't, however, all she did was jerk and spasm in futility within her teacher's grasp, her already abused and tender nipple forced to endure the further indignities he was heaping upon it, which left her gasping and spluttering, utterly incoherent.

Eventually, Mr. Riggs finally tired of her nipple. He began to explore the rest of the flesh of her left breast, savoring the exquisite mixture of flavors that had been baked into her. The lemon and honey and other spices had blended wonderfully with her own flavors: clean sweat and fresh skin. He drug his tongue and lips across her breasts, sucking up as much flavor as he could. He occasionally scraped his teeth along her smooth flesh as well, as if he could barely restrain himself from simply taking great, slavering bites out of the meat of her breast.

After several minutes of this treatment, Mr. Riggs seemed to at last grow sated of the flesh of Elizabeth's left breast. Taking her nipple in his mouth and between his teeth one last time, he withdrew his head from her breast, letting her flesh stretch out from his mouth, before finally allowing her nipple to be drug out from between his incisors. He watched, satisfied, as it bounced back against the rest of her breast, making the whole globe jiggle pleasingly.

Elizabeth, was, by this time, barely sane. The overwhelming amount of sensations coming from her breast, both pleasure and torment, had left her in a state that was close to epilepsy. Her whole body was shuddering and shaking, and her breath came in irregular little gasps and gulps. Her eyes had rolled back up into her head, which lolled bonelessly, and her vocabulary had been reduced to bare, sputtering syllables.

"Buh.. guh.. muh.. muh.. m-Mr.. ruh.. ruh.." was about all she managed to get out as Mr. Riggs leaned back and heaved a satisfied sigh.

"Oh my goodness." said Mr. Riggs, his tone one of complete satisfaction. "That was utterly exquisite. Elizabeth, my dear, you are simply delicious. I don't see how your barbecued breast is going to be able to measure up to your left's outstanding lemon-honey culinary performance."

"I am," he continued, "eager to put it to the test, however."

He started to lean in towards Elizabeth's right breast, then paused, looking thoughtful.

"Hmm. I really should have a palate cleanser before I move on to the second course. I didn't bring anything with me, though." Mr. Riggs mused. "But, I suppose that water is better than nothing."

Mr. Riggs got up and refilled his beaker with cool water. After he left go of her hips, Elizabeth started to slowly slump down, moaning slightly, leaning back and to the right as she did. Mr. Riggs managed to catch her just before she landed on her right side.

"Easy there, Elizabeth. You nearly dropped my dinner on the table. That would have been a shame. Up you come."

Mr. Riggs propped Elizabeth back up, keeping a firm grip on her hip with his left hand as he drank down half his water. He briefly considered attempting to give the rest to Elizabeth, to try and perk her up a bit, but decided against it. She might very well choke on it, given her current state.

"I've always been partial to good barbecue." Mr. Riggs commented to no one in particular as he set aside the half full beaker, then he swooped down on Elizabeth's right breast.

Mr. Riggs' treatment of Elizabeth's right breast, bar-be-cue flavored, was a mirror to his treatment of her left, quite literally. Instead of starting with her very prominent, very edible looking nipple, Mr. Riggs worked his way around the base of her breast, licking and nibbling sauce up as he went. He thought that his prediction was right, unfortunately, as he found that this particular variety of barbecue sauce did not complement Elizabeth's natural flavors nearly so well as the honey-lemon had. Still, Elizabeth's right breast certainly wasn't bad, and Mr. Riggs managed to enjoy licking his way up its sides a great deal.

Working his way up to the nipple, rather than down from it, was its own reward, which he reaped when he greedily sucked the deeply ruddy nub into his mouth. Here, at least, he thought that the barbecue sauce did better justice to Elizabeth's flesh. Perhaps because her nipple was slightly more "done" than the rest of her breast, he thought.

Mr. Riggs continued to eat at Elizabeth's nipple, giving it no quarter as he did so. The girl seemed to be in no condition to object, hanging nearly limply in his grasp, merely rocking her head back and forth and gasping weakly as he sucked, licked, and nibbled, a little less gently than with the previous nipple, every bit of sauce from it that he could.

Finally, satisfied that he could extract nothing further from the abused bud of flesh, he let it slide from his mouth. Licking his lips, he let Elizabeth down slowly to the surface of the work bench, allowing her to rest on her side. The poor girl seemed almost completely out of it now, and when he reached behind her and untied the bindings holding her elbows together and her arms behind her back, she hardly seemed to notice.

Mr. Riggs gazed down at her. She rested on her side, eyes at half mast and seemingly unseeing, with her arms still mostly behind her back. Her generous chest lay hanging sideways, each breast still stained darkly by the sauces they had baked in. He decided to allow her to rest for a few moments.

Mr. Riggs spent the next few minutes tidying up. He cleaned all the brushes he had used on Elizabeth earlier, then removed the catch pan and thermometer from the oven and cleaned them as well. He licked at the puddles of sauce still cooling in the pan curiously, and although they tasted fine, it just wasn't the same if they weren't spread on and baked into a pair of girl's breasts. He wound up washing most of the sauce leftovers off the pan and down the drain. Next, he wiped down the oven, which had managed to accumulate an impressive amount of sauce splatters from just one use. There was also a little sauce smeared on the padding on the outside of the oven, where Elizabeth's squirming had smeared it while her breasts had cooked.

Once he had finished with all the little domestic chores, Mr. Riggs prepared the thing that he thought might just bring Elizabeth around again. He refilled the beaker with water, then dissolved a generous dose of pep into it. Elizabeth had recovered slightly, by this point. Enough, at least, to let Mr. Riggs pour a beaker full of pep laced water down her throat without choking on it.

Fifteen minutes later Elizabeth was, if not bright eyed and bushy tailed, at least awake and mostly coherent. Mr. Riggs helped her sit up on the work bench, then slide down off it a moment later. Her legs were wobbly, but she managed stand on her own, for the most part. She did lean a little on his arm as he led her over to the sink to clean up, though.

Elizabeth balked when she heard the sound of the tap being turned on, however, and backed away slightly, hands hovering protectively over her breasts without actually touching them, her head shaking back and forth in negation. Mr. Riggs followed the direction of her bleary, fearful gaze, frowning, which was locked on the rough green pad next to the flowing tap. Realizing the source of her apprehension, Mr. Riggs chuckled, and smiled a little in amusement.

"That's fine, Elizabeth." Mr. Riggs allowed. "You can clean off later in the comfort of your own home. Let's just get you dressed, then."

Mr. Riggs handed Elizabeth her bra, which she looked at for a moment, in consternation. She then glanced down at her chest, and shuddered slightly. She clearly wasn't keen on the idea of binding her tender, abused breasts within the garment.

"Too tight for now, huh?" said Mr. Riggs, trying cover his continued amusement with a sympathetic tone and succeeding, mostly. "Lets just get your shirt on, then. Even that might feel like a bit too much at the moment, but I think you might draw more attention than you'd like walking home just like that."

Mr. Riggs helped Elizabeth into her shirt, and heard her gasp as the dry cotton slid over the skin of her breasts. To Elizabeth, the soft cotton fabric felt like rough sandpaper, and she thought it might be rasping what was left of her hyper-sensitized nipples right off as it passed over them. Even after she had settled the shirt in place, just the touch of the garment against her breasts every time she moved or breathed was a small, constant torment.

Donning her backpack didn't help matter. Mr. Riggs set one strap on each of her shoulders, and the weight of her possessions inside of it pulled her shirt taught across her chest, redoubling the sensations her toasted nerves were screaming out at her. Matters felt even more dire when Mr. Riggs tugged on her pack, opening it up to place her unworn bra within it. Each tug and pull on the pack by her teacher made her gasp and shudder.

"Elizabeth, I want to thank you. You performed outstandingly today, despite the adverse conditions." said Mr. Riggs, very pleased.

Elizabeth noticed that he still had a little sauce smeared around his mouth as he smiled down at her. She had to fight an odd urge to reach up and wipe it away.

"Uhmm.. You're welcome, Mr. Riggs." Elizabeth replied, a little haltingly. "I'm, uh.. I'm glad to.. to help, and, uh, glad it worked out.. so well."

Her statement was the first whole sentence, and first whole, coherent thought she had managed to form, since before she had come off the oven nearly an hour before.

"Yes, it worked quite well indeed, despite our initial difficulties. I've even got some ideas that will make next time easier still!" said Mr. Riggs.

"Ne.. Next time?" Elizabeth stuttered, eyes widening in panicky reaction.

"Yes, indeed, Elizabeth. Miss Evans and I have at least half a dozed more sauces we'd like to try out. She'll be very interest to hear the results of this afternoon's test, let me tell you." Mr. Riggs confided, happily.

Elizabeth's lip began to tremble slightly, and she uttered a disbelieving little whimper as Mr. Riggs ushered her towards the exit.

"I'm quite looking forward to it. I'll see you in class tomorrow, Elizabeth." said Mr. Riggs, as he pushed her gently out the door and closed it shut behind her.

Elizabeth stared at the door for a moment, her mouth working in shocked surprised. Finally, she managed to get a hold on herself and turned from the door, heaving a great sigh. She immediately winced in reaction, as the deep breath had caused her taught shirt, which was now beginning to stain through a little in places due to the remnants of sauce, to chafe at her sensitive skin. She began her walk home, legs wobbling occasionally as a careless movement or even just a stray breeze of cool air caused the nerves in the skin of her breasts to protest angrily.

It was a very long walk.