Chapter 10: A Mistress has needs.


The stall door clicked shut, and the fluorescent light buzzing overhead became the only sound in the world besides their breathing.

Terri’s hand found the back of Penny’s neck. Not gentle. Not cruel. Certain. She pulled the younger girl forward until Penny’s cheek pressed against her bare thigh, and the contact—skin on skin, wetness on skin—drew a sound from Terri’s throat that was less moan than growl.

“You’ve been a very bad girl today, Penny.”
Penny’s glasses fogged completely. Her breath came in short, hot bursts against Terri’s hip. “Yes, Mistress.”

“All that talk in the car. Your little schoolgirl outfit. Prancing around the kitchen with your camera, your skirt riding up every five seconds.” Terri’s grip tightened.

“You’ve had me wet since noon. Do you understand what that means?”

“I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“No, you’re not.” Terri guided her head lower. The scent rising from her own body was thick—hours of arousal, dried slick crusted on her inner thighs, fresh wetness already seeping through.

“You knew exactly what you were doing. You wanted me like this. Desperate. Horny. Unable to think straight.”

She pressed Penny’s mouth against the crease of her thigh.

“Clean it. All of it. Every drop you caused.”

Penny’s tongue was tentative at first. A small, kittenish lick that tasted salt and old arousal and the faint chemical sweetness of the lube Terri had used in the shower, hours and hours ago, a lifetime ago.

Then bolder. A flat-tongued stroke up the length of Terri’s inner thigh that gathered everything—the dried cum, the fresh slick, the sweat of a woman who’d spent an evening watching little girls who volunteer to get stuffed, basted and roasted.

“That’s it,” Terri breathed.

“Good girl.

Maybe you’re not completely useless after all.”

The praise made Penny whimper. Her tongue worked faster, lapping at the crease where thigh met hip, cleaning the salt from Terri’s skin with the devotion of a penitent.

The camera bag lay abandoned on the bathroom tile. The gold barbell in Penny’s clit hood caught the light each time she shifted position, a tiny flash of metal that Terri found herself staring at.

“You like this.” Terri’s voice had gone low and rough.

“You like being on your knees in a bathroom stall, licking me clean. You’re such a naughty little whore” Penny doubled her effort to clean her mistress, to please her.

“A slutty, naughty little whore who wears schoolgirl outfits so people lust after you.”

Terri holding on to her pigtails, controlling her head.

“Making me horny with all of your talks about your piercings in the car, letting me see you touch herself while I’m driving.”

Penny’s tongue found Terri’s folds. The contact was electric—Terri’s hips bucked forward, and her grip in Penny’s hair became a tight fist.

“Inside.”

Penny obeyed.

Her tongue pushed into Terri’s pussy, and the sound Terri made was sharp enough to echo off the tile walls.

Two fingers joined her tongue, then three, and Terri’s whole body clenched around the intrusion.

“You deserve a spanking.” The words were coming faster now, less controlled.

“You’ve deserved one all day. Bending over in that tiny skirt. Letting everyone see your pink panties.”

“My destroyed my panties, the ones you’ve caused to be soaked through since the car ride.”

Penny’s fingers curled inside her.

Terri’s vision blurred. She pulled Penny off by the hair and spun her around, pressing her face-first against the stall door. Penny’s bare ass—still pink from the heat of the kitchen, still slick with her own arousal—presented itself.

The first spank was open-palmed and hard.
Penny gasped. The stall door rattled.

“That’s for the car.” Smack.

“That’s for the interview room.” Smack.

“That’s for every time you made me wet in front of a source.”

Penny’s ass cheeks bloomed red.

She was breathing in short, ragged gulps, but her body said everything her mouth couldn’t—hips tilting back, offering more, asking for harder.

When Terri’s hand paused, Penny whimpered.

“More, Mistress. Please.”

Terri’s laugh was dark and delighted.

“You’re getting off on this. You’re getting off on being spanked like a bad little girl.”

Her palm landed again, lower this time, catching the sensitive curve where ass met thigh.

“Say it.”

“I’m getting off on it.” Penny’s voice cracked.

“I’m a bad girl. I deserve to be spanked. I’m sorry I made you wet, Mistress, I’m sorry I’m such a slut—”

Terri pulled her around and silenced her with a kiss. It was bruising. Hungry.

Penny’s glasses pressed painfully into the bridge of her nose and she didn’t care. Her mouth opened.

Terri’s tongue filled it.
Then Terri’s teeth found her lower lip. Bit down.

Penny squeaked.

The sound was too similar. The squeak Cindy had made when Bard’s fork punctured her ass. The squeak Lucy had made when the toothpick drove into her buttock.

Terri pulled back and saw Penny’s eyes—glassy, unfocused, utterly surrendered—and something in her chest cracked open.

She would let me. If I wanted to eat her, she would let me.

The thought was absurd. The thought was terrifying.

The thought made Terri’s pussy clench so hard she nearly doubled over.
She bent her head to Penny’s chest instead. The crop top was still tied beneath the bust, and Terri’s fingers made quick work of the knot.

The fabric fell away. Penny’s breasts were small and pale, her nipples pink and peaked, the silver rings through each bud cool against Terri’s tongue.

She licked. Sucked. Drew the nipple into her mouth and worked it with her tongue until Penny was gasping her name.

Then—without planning it, without thinking—she bit down.

Penny screamed.

Not a scream of pain. Or not only pain. The sound was thin and high and ended in a moan that seemed to go on forever.

Her hands flew to the back of Terri’s head and held her there, pressed against her breast, teeth still sunk into the tender flesh around the ring.

“Eat me,” Penny breathed.

“Please. Please eat me.

Bite it off.
Eat it raw.
It’s yours, Mistress, all of me is yours, please—”

Terri released her nipple. A red ring of tooth marks surrounded the silver barbell. She stared at it for a long moment, breathing hard, then reached up and twisted the ring.

Pulled.

Penny’s whole body jerked and she made a sound like a sob.

“You would let me, wouldn’t you.” Terri’s voice was barely a whisper.

“You’d let me carve pieces off you. Cook them. Serve them.”

“Yes.”

Penny’s eyes were streaming. Her cheeks were blotched red. She had never looked more beautiful.

“Anything. Everything. I want to be your meal. I want you to eat me until there’s nothing left.”

Terri’s other hand found Penny’s other nipple ring. Twisted.

Pulled.

Penny’s knees buckled and Terri caught her, lowered her to the bathroom toilet, spread her thighs.
Penny’s pussy was drenched. The gold barbell winked.

Terri bent her head and licked—one long, slow stroke from perineum to clit—and Penny’s back arched off the tile.

“Offer it to me.”

“Take it’ Mommy.” Penny’s voice was wrecked.

“My pussy. It’s yours. Eat it. Please. Please eat my pussy, Mistress.”

Terri ate.

Her tongue found the barbell and flicked. Her lips sealed around the hood and sucked.

When her teeth grazed the swollen bud, Penny’s hips bucked so hard Terri had to pin them down with both hands. She bit—gently, then harder—and Penny’s orgasm hit like a thunderclap, sudden and violent, her whole body seizing against the cold tile floor.

“Mommy,”

Penny sobbed.

“Mommy, please—”
The word shot through Terri like a current.

Mommy issues. March issue. Age play for those with mommy and daddy issues. She’d written the article.

Now she was living it, on a bathroom toilet in a fetish restaurant, with a eighteen-year-old intern’s thighs locked around her head.

She didn’t stop. Her tongue pushed inside Penny’s pussy, two fingers joining it, curling upward. Her thumb found the clit—still spasming, still hypersensitive—and pressed.

Penny screamed again, a real scream this time, muffled only by her own fist.

Terri climbed up her body. Kissed her. Let her taste herself on Terri’s lips.

“Cum for me again,” she murmured.

“Cum on my fingers like the naughty little girl you are. Cum while thinking about me eating you. Cum thinking about being my dinner.”

Her fingers moved faster. Her thumb circled Penny’s clit in tight, relentless spirals.

Penny’s body was no longer her own—it belonged to Terri, to the hand inside her, to the voice in her ear whispering what a good little meal she’d make.

When the second orgasm hit, it was quieter.

Deeper.

Penny’s whole body went rigid for one suspended moment, then collapsed, boneless and trembling, against the toilet.

Terri’s own orgasm was building—had been building since the basting brush touched Lucy’s thigh, since the needle pierced Cindy’s labia, since Philip’s unreadable smile and Victor’s gentle hands and the smell of honey caramelizing on pink skin.

Penny’s mouth found her pussy again, obedient even in exhaustion, and Terri ground down against her tongue, against her lips, against the glasses that were still somehow on her face.

It took thirty seconds. Maybe less.

Terri’s climax ripped through her like a blade, and she buried both hands in Penny’s pigtails and held on. Shooting cum in her face, Penny lapping it up.


—The sink water ran lukewarm. Terri wet a paper towel and handed it to Penny, who was still sitting on the closed toilet lid with her crop top still untied. Her glasses had survived the encounter with only a smudge on one lens.

“Here.” Terri handed her a second towel.

“You’ve got—there’s a mark. On your breast.”
Penny looked down at the ring of tooth marks.

Touched it with one fingertip. Smiled.

“I know.”

Terri retrieved her satchel from the counter and pulled out the last dry pair of panties—plain black cotton, no lace, nothing special. Stepped into them. They were cool against her still-swollen flesh.

Penny made no move to cover herself. “I don’t have any more.”

“What?”

“Panties. I only brought the one pair.” She gestured at the pink bunny-print scrap still lying on the tile.

“Those are done.”

Terri laughed. It was the first genuine laugh she’d had all day.

“Then you’re going commando to dinner.”

Penny stood, putting on her skirt shifting it back into place.

The hem rode up immediately, as it always did.

“I’ll fit right in.”

Terri leaned against the sink. The post-orgasmic clarity was settling in now, bringing with it a faint edge of guilt.

“I was tough on you. In there. The spanking. The names.”

“No.”
Penny’s voice was firm.

Sudenly she didn’t sound like a submissive little girl at all. She sounded like a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.

“It was perfect. It was what I needed. Especialy after—”

She gestured vaguely toward the door, toward the kitchen beyond, toward the ovens and the soup pot and the volunteers who had become meals.

“All those photos. The family in the pot. The girls roasting. I needed someone to—” She stopped. Swallowed.

“To take control. To take me. Like the chefs did with those delicious girls.”

“That’s what gets you off.”

Terri’s reporter instincts were coming back online even as her body was still humming with endorphins.

“Playing the submissive little girl?”

Penny blushed the color of a radish.

“Yes.”

“And in there—while we were—you were thinking about it. Werent you? About being cooked.”

The blush deepened. Penny’s eyes dropped to the floor.

“Every lick. Every bite. I was imagining you’d chosen me. For dinner.” Penny spoke while looking at herself in the mirror.

“That you were going to eat me.” She looked up.

“Is that so wrong? To want that? To want you to eat me?”

The question hung in the air.

Terri should have said something. Should have reassurred her, deflected, changed the subject back to the assignment.

Instead she felt her body answering before her brain could catch up—a fresh pulse of heat between her thighs, the new panties already dampening.

She was annoyed at herself.

Genuinely annoyed.

She’d just came. Harder than she’d cum in months. And already her body was asking for more.

She moved behind Penny.

The mirror above the sink showed them both—Terri in her midnight-blue suit, blouse still butoned to the throat, hair barely mussed.

Penny with her crop top untied, her glasses smudged, her cheeks flushed, the bite mark blooming purple on her breast.

Terri tilted Penny’s head. Kissed her neck. Her hand reached around and found a nipple ring, tugged gently.

Penny melted against her. A sigh escaped her lips.

“We should pick up this conversation after dinner.”

Terri’s mouth was still against her neck.

“My place. In my—” she puled the ring a little harder, “—well-equiped bedroom.”

In the mirror, Penny’s eyes met hers. The hunger in them was bottomless.

“Yes, Mistress.”

Terri nibbled her earlobe.

“The diner should be starting soon. Let’s fix ourselves up and see what’s happening.”

---

The bathroom door swung open on the corridor, and Philip was waiting.

Not loitering. Not lurking. His posture was too deliberate for that—one shoulder against the wall, arms crossed loosely over his chest, the sleeves of his black chef’s coat still rolled to his elbows.

He smiled when he saw them. It was the same warm, unreadable smile he’d worn when they first arrived.

“I trust the evening has been illuminating.”
Terri’s hand, which had been smoothing down her blouse, stilled.

“You could say that.”

“Chef Victor tells me you helped with Lucy’s basting. That’s unusual for a reporter.” Philip’s eyes shifted to Penny, taking in her school girl outfit, crop top, the bare legs, nice and slutty, obviously pleasing for the male gaze.

“And I notice your photographer is—traveling lighter than before.”

Penny’s innocent blush reignited again, she was right, her outfit rocks.

“We’ve been documenting everything,” Terri said smoothly. “The unique prep machines. The consenting nature of your sessions. I have to admit, I’m impressed.”

Philip’s eyebrow arched.

“Impressed how?”

“The children volunteers.” Terri found her notepad instinctivly, though she didn’t open it.

“They’re not just performing. They genuinely want to be eaten. Every one of them was clear about their boundaries, their fantasies.”

“This is more then just a fad, they want to be cooked and you actually give them the opportunity to live out their culinary desires.”

“We take the psychological component seriously.” Philip’s voice was measured, professional—the voice of a man who had given this speech before.

“It’s not about the heat. It’s about the frame. The context. Being chosen. Being prepared. Being served.”

His gaze drifted to Penny again. Lingered.
Penny met his eyes.

Did not look away.

“And you?” Philip asked her

“Has the kitchen given you what you were looking for?” He said it like he could read her mind, in reality he could see her body movements, he was good at knowing. She had meat-girl written all over her.

She smiled—the same innocent, filthy smile she’d worn in the car.

“More than I expected.”
Philip smiled back. Something passed between them that Terri couldnt quite read.

Then he checked his watch, and the moment broke.

“We’re ready to let in the diners. Cheese and wine are available in the dining room.

Diner shortly after, then the show.” He gestured down the corridor.

“I’ve reserved seats for you both. If you need anything at all, please ask a server.”

“Thank you. “I’m looking forward to dining in your beautiful restaurant”

Penny gave a small curtsey. The plaid skirt flicked up. Philip’s gaze dropped—just for an instant—before returning to her face.

“Penny.” His voice was soft. “May I have a word? It will only take a moment.”

Both women froze.

“Sure, sir.” Penny’s voice was steady, but her hands had gone still at her sides.

Terri hesitated. Looked at Penny. Looked at Philip.

Something in the air had shifted, and she coudnt name it.

“I’ll hold your camera case,” she said finaly.
Penny handed it over without breaking eye contact with Philip.

Terri took Penny’s camera case from her shoulder. She turned toward the dining room. The corridor strethed ahead of her, and through the double doors she could hear the murmur of arriving guests, the clink of wine glasses, the low thrum of anticipation.

Behind her, she heard Philip’s voice drop to something intimate and quiet.

Now what? she thought.

Terri stood amongst the dinners, all types of people.

The dining room doors swung open.