Pie Mistress

'Trudy, get your pretty clothes off and go downstairs to the bakery immediately.' Pie Mistress screams. I was the new Saturday sales girl at our local shop and this was my first day. I knew I'd done wrong and had to obey her every command. My friend, Trish, warned me that the manageress took an unorthodox method of control and it looked as if I was going to experience it first hand. After all it was my fault. I had been told how wastage would not be tolerated and I had obviously wronged.

I struggled with the zip of my short starched shop dress - having no time to put on the high heels she gave me - before being bustled away by Linda another young assistant to receive my punishment.

'In there, you naughty girl,' shrieked Linda, throwing the door wide. I entered the bakery, which at first seemed deserted. Then, over at a table, I caught sight of Trish's familiar face, busy with a large tray of irresistible cream cakes.

'Hello, Trudy,' she said unfazed by my state of undress.

'How are you?'

I shake my head.

'Oh! I see. Not good. Don't worry she won't keep you a minute.'

I smelt the delightful essence of sweet cakes and puddings as I stood in my white lacy bra and panties. I felt somewhat awkward and ill at ease in a strange, almost surreal way. I slipped on the white, high-heeled, patent leather shoes and waited. The shop dress had disguised my male form well and even though I wore a bra filled with large silicone breast forms my skimpy panties couldn't totally conceal my masculinity.

Not looking up for a moment from the task, which absorbed her, Trish hummed and whistled as she worked.

'You look the prettiest amongst us today. I'm jealous. The dress really suits you. It fits you snugly but not too tight. It shows off your firm round breasts, bottom and slim girlish waist. You look gorgious and you've made such an effort with your hair and make-up. I heard many customers comment. You must be thrilled. Pie mistress has never employed a transvestite before.'

I smile forgetting momentarily that I was awaiting punishment. 'I am,' I say. 'I'm very lucky.'

'It's been a nice day, today, hasn't it?' She observed casually. 'Good weather always attracts more sweet toothed customers into the shop.'

I remain silent instead I step awkwardly from foot to foot.

'Pie Mistress is always in a better mood when the takings are up.'

Then the silence returned, marked only by the slopping of the gooey batter mixture Trish now stirred frantically. At length she put down the large wooden spoon, and slowly poured a tray of yesterday's mixed cakes into a waste bucket.

'Sloop.'

'They still look delicious don't they?'

I nod again.

'I was talking to Linda earlier,' she said, scrapping every sticky crumb off the tray. 'She thinks every sales girl who's ever worked here has been disciplined by Pie Mistress at some time.'

'I bet she only has to punish them once,' I said recalling how I inadvertently threw away a bucket of her prized cream custard.'

Trudy smirked cheekily. 'Oh! No, quite the contrary, one of us is naughty every week.' She giggled as she prised off the black treacle lid and positioned the scrap buckets neatly on the table. 'We take it in turns. This week it was Linda's.'

'Oh!' I said.

Trish laughs. 'But you didn't know. Did you? Besides she's had plenty of turns.'

I scarcely opened my mouth to reply when the large wooden door crashed open and there to my surprise stood Pie Mistress. I'd only seen her briefly before yet nothing prepared me for what stood before me. She wore a white chef's hat and a long white PVC coat, unbuttoned, which gaped open to reveal strays of shinny plastic, over which her firm naked bosoms protruded. Save for long black riding boots, black panties and stockings, this was all she wore. In one hand she carried a large wooden spoon similar to the one Trish had earlier and in the other a fearsome hand whisk, which she brandished at me in a manner that made me tremble with fright.

'Hello, my dears,' said Pie Mistress mockingly. 'Where are today's spoils of war?'

Trish gestures towards the table with a flick of her head.

'Ah!' there they are my sweet indulgences.' She said walking towards the table. 'Care for a splosh, Trudy?'

The Pie Mistress's appearance, and my situation, had rendered me temporarily speechless, and my mouth opened and closed like that of a goldfish in a bowl.

She looked at me in disgust and then at Trish with annoyance.

'You should know better, Trish. Why isn't Trudy dressed in the punishment chemise?'

Trish looked apologetically at her feet.

'This really isn't good enough. You of all people. Dress her immediately.'

'It's not fare,' she whined, 'I haven't been punished for ages even though I've been naughty.'

The pie Mistress frowned.

'I haven't forgotten you my pretty,' she said mockingly as Trish selected from the closet a sexy short chemise in a sumptuous looking silk.

Pie mistress looked at me critically. 'Nice, super-glam, hairstyle. Not a hair out of place. Provocative, matching panties and bra in snowy white. Perfect.' Her eyes scan downwards. She looks at my white sheer stockings and long slender legs. 'Mmm!' She groans. 'Oh! And I' see you've got on the white, ludicrously high heels.'

I smirk sheepishly and begin to tremble. I bowed my head and raised my arms as Trish slipped the pale pink chemise gently over my head. Straightening my back the silky gown gracefully slipped over my young curvaceous form. It dangled provocatively just above my knee.

'Now, Trish,' Pie Mistress said, selecting a particularly large cream and jam filled doughnut, 'come over here.'

But Trish couldn't move. Frozen to the spot she trembled as the Pie Mistress walked behind her looking closely at her neatly pressed shop uniform.

'How dare you question my authority whilst I administer a sploshing to our naughty young recruit. Pull up your dress this instant.'

Trish, her face now sullen picked up the hem of her dress with both hands and pulled the material over her fleshy buttocks.

Pie Mistress, the shiny plastic of her coating squeaking, strode behind her and with one hand on the nape of her neck pushed her head sharply down. Bent double she eased Trish's exposed pantie elastic outward and snuck the gooey doughnut down the back of her panties.

'Oh!' Trish cried as the sugar granules brushed off the doughnut and peppered her beautifully smooth rump. With a long manicured finger Pie Mistress prodded it down within her buttock cheeks before letting the elastic snap smartly back into place.

'Squash!'

With nowhere to run the thick, buttery cream and sumptuous red jam oozed out of the doughnut forming a damp stain across her panties.

'And don't sit down,' she added, 'at least until I say so.'

Trish, her face, a picture of happiness pulled at her hem and smoothed her dress.

The Pie Mistress then advanced on me, brandishing the whisk in an alarming manner, forcing me to retreat further into the room.

'Please, please,' I cried. 'It was only an accident. I can assure you. I didn't mean to.'

'Rubbish!' she snarled, prodding me with the whisk. 'And don't forget you're to call me Pie Mistress or your punishment will intensify.'

Trish flashes me a quick smile, bends slightly forward, her dress tight across her bottom, and rubs her round rump with the palms of her hands, her fingers just touching the bump of the doughnut.

'Hmm!' She moaned.

'I saw you quite deliberately pour that wholesome goodness down the sink without any remorse.'

'Look, Pie Mistress,' I say, 'can't we be civilised about this?' But she was not listening as she stirred some goo in a large bucket and mixed with it some light tiny meringues.

'Prepare Trudy with the restraining manacles,' she barked to Trish, 'while I look over my ingredients.'

I see the rope and padded cuffs dangling from a ceiling beam. I look at Trish nervously. She's enjoying every moment, smilingly pleasantly seemingly pleased with the sticky, sugary, package that was dampening her pretty white panties. Pie Mistress gestures her to help and as if hypnotised she placed a padded manacle round both my wrists. As she did so I noticed the cream and jam beginning to seep through her white dress.

'Arms up,' she said cheerily and with a few smooth movements the rope was taut so my arms where held tightly above my head. I suddenly felt very fragile and vulnerable. There I hung my feet barely touching the tiled floor with the delicate chemise high up my thighs. I revelled in the feel of the light material as it gently caressed my thighs, exposing my delicate stocking tops and lacy panties.

'Now then,' purred Pie Mistress. 'You wasteful creature, I can see I have to show you what purpose we put real waste too.' She spun the whisk so hard against the bottom of a bucket it made both Trish and I jump. 'You must be taught some basic bakery discipline, my girl.'

Then she came for me like a wild woman possessed slashing at me indiscriminately with the whisk. I closed my eyes and my body screamed with the need to be sploshed.

'Splash, splash,' she waved and as the cream spun off the whisk she dipped it back in the bucket to reload. With every arch of her arm dollops of runny cream flicked off the whisk and splattered over my clean chemise, her shiny black boats and the spotless floor. I blinked as cream ran into my eye. I begged for mercy, but she would not be deterred. I tried to pull away but experienced a wave of dizzy stupor.

'No, my little shop girl there's no running away we must teach you a lesson. You, a university girl, must know the value of economics. If you act with blatant disregard to my delicious wares you must expect to be treated like so.' She fixed me with an unwavering glare. 'Now,' she exclaimed, spinning the hand whisk again. 'We saw your wasteful behaviour earlier, didn't we?'

Trish nods enthusiastically.

'So lets see you spoil these!'

She spun her whisk again, and again, and she whipped a further bucket of goo into a heavenly smooth sticky mess. Once whisked to a perfect blend she handed the whisk to Trish and then spooned a generous dollop of mouth-watering goo into a pastry flan, and before I knew it had thrown the cake directly at my chest.

'Splat.'

It's soft base broke into a thousand pieces as it hit my firm breasts and the creamy filling squelched all over the chemise. Bits flew around the room like an explosion splattering my feet and hair. Larger pieces either dropped on the floor or down my cleavage.

'How does that feel my naughty girl?' She purred. 'No one works for Pie Mistress and wastes anything... for it is only she who bakes exceedingly good cakes.'

Trish laughed and wriggled her hips the doughnut stain clearly now showing through her dress, it's moist pleasure showing in her sparkling eyes.

'Splat.' A second generously laden flan lands on my hip and as the pastry breaks away the sticky filling clings to the semi-translucent chemise in a blancmange type mould. A dart of sexual heat shudders through my body. My little cock twitchs. Oh! It felt so good. I hung limply by my manacles surrendering my body to what ever she threw at it.

'Splat.' A third sticky projectile smacks me in the crutch. This is differant. I see soft, creamy filling, topped with mincemeat and gooey meringue. A shop speciality - Queen of puddings. And this time the moist mixture quickly penetrates my chemise and is hungrily absorbed in my cotton panties. The Pie mistress smiles gleefully and strides round me looking for an unmarked target. Her high heels clicking on the floor, her plastic coat squeaking alluringly.

'Splat.' I'm hit on the back of the head by a red berry trifle. Both the jammy sponge cake, layers of juicy fruits, sherry and its covering of custard, crunchy meringue and cream slide slowly down my pristine shoulder length hair. This gives her an idea. She dips her hands into a vat of rich, dark chocolate sauce, rubs it between her palms and works it into my hair. Soon its tangled and matted.

'Take that and that,' Pie Mistress cries as she loads flan after flan with a generous dollop of the creamiest goo and throws it at every unmarked square of material. Strawberry, pineapple, pear, peach, raspberry, she relented not with her succulent fruits and in a matter of moments I was deluged in a slippery mess which trickled slowly down my body. Beads of pureed fruit and buttery cream glittered on my forehead, my cheeks reddened as if I had been running, my whole body began to ache. My once lightweight chemise hangs heavy from its spaghetti straps. My cock strained against the lace panties, my nipples ached, my heart raced.

Trish holds the whisk up high and with a sinister movement of her hands cranked the handle as if performing a sacred ritual. As the whisk whirrs to a standstill Pie Mistress moves to another bucket.

'What succulent scraps have we here?' she asks Trish.

'Raspberry jam from the doughnut mixture,' she said clapping her hands with glee.

Pie Mistress grins broadly, surveyed the instruments on the table and selecting a large ladle, dipped it into the sticky jam.

'Oh!' She cried, 'smell those irresistible fruits, feel that deliciously dense texture,' and she slowly poured the ladles contents down my neck.

'Gloop.'

The thick jam slowly trickled inside the chemise running over my bra, cleavage and down my tummy.

'Nothing spoils the flavour,' she chuckled as she loaded yet another ladle. This time she poured its sickly smelling contents down my back. The warm liquid chose its own path, weaving its sticky way like molten lava over my chemise mixing with the pastry flan and custard filling.

Trish raises the whisk again cranks the handle and Pie Mistress moves on. She cuts three generous slices of dairy cream chocolate roulade. 'Hmm!' she says as using the cake knife she deposits a slice of mouse-like cake expertly into each bra cup and down the front of my panties.

'Oh! I gasp as the cold soft cream engulfs my cock, filling my panties, giving me a feminine mound.

Satisfied with their placement Pie Mistress puts down the knife and grabs each cup squeezing and kneading them as if making bread. I moan out loud as my nipples tingle with excitement but before she can get too carried away. Trish cranks the whisk again and Pie Mistress selects a tray of dazzling cream filled éclairs.

'Surely... no,' Trish cry's, 'you're not going to waste such treats?'

'Well done my child.' she chirps. 'You're learning fast. These are far too delectable to be wasted, they need to be savoured, to be eaten, to be enjoyed.' Holding a chocolate éclair in one hand, her manicured, messy fingers of the other prise my teeth open and forces a cake deep into my mouth. I taste my own lip stick amongst the cream. I gag and choke but she continues to push it into my hot, salivating mouth. I have no choice but to swallow. But once I'd eaten one she grabs another and another. Mouthful after mouthful I swallow until I felt sick.

'Mmm!' I moan and swing pathetically by my wrists. But she wasn't done. My body began to tingle as she moved on to a new tray and fingered a second éclair.

'Those have just come from the freezer,' Trish says helpfully.

'Delicious!' she muttered. 'That gives me an idea. Where next? Where could I put this sweet treat? Huh?' Her eyes sparkle and her boots squeak as she peeled the back of my now soaked chemise off my back with one hand while the other yanked my panties down my buttocks.

'I hope you're still peckish? You don't look as if you've had your fill.'

My mouth still crammed full and dribbling with éclair I tensed with anticipation.

'Bend over my pretty and eat this.'

But with my hands held aloft I could barely bend but she was not deterred. Instead she dragged a particularly long and thick chocolate éclair enticingly between my legs. Up and down she rubbed. Over my stockings and teasingly across my buttocks leaving a ugly chocolate stain in its wake. I began to sweat. My heart pounds. I gasp as she moves it higher and higher until I felt the hard eclair squeeze between my crack. I hold my breath; I pull against my manacles as she pushes against my hole. I squirmed comfortably, clenching my buttocks causing the cream to squeeze into my innermost crevice.

'Mmm!' I moaned twisting slowly around and around, my whole body racing with fine pleasures.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Pie Mistress pushed the frozen eclair deep inside me. It's coldness making me shiver. I needn't have worried it didn't remain frozen for long as parked deep inside me it quickly began to defrost and as it thawed chocolate and cream dribbled out of my bottom.

'Whoosh!' she yanks my panties back up and slaps my rump approvingly.

'Whirr,' went the whisk and Pie Mistress picked up a loaded icing bag, heavy with clotted cream that Trish had filled earlier.

'Now who's not going to be wasteful ever again,' she said teasing my false erect nibbles with the dripping nozzle. 'Kick off your pretty shoes.' She barked.

Pulling on my bonds I lifted my feet as commanded.

'Squish, squish,' and with a few decisive squeezes she filled my high heels with gorgeous swirls of thick clotted cream.

'Now hold your foot up. First your right.' Trish obediently held the shoe heavy with cream out to me as I raised my foot. I pointed my toes as she gently guided my clean stockinged foot into its new home with a resounding squelch.

'Ooh! Ooh!' I gasped as my little foot forced the lumpy cream out over the leather and on to the floor in moist blobs. I wriggled my tiny toes causing the cream to ooze into every nook and cranny. I gasp, feeling the individual clots squish in my pretty stockings.

'Oh!' I cry. Almost unable to move my body wrecked with ecstasy.

'Now your left,' she reminded me as she prepared to repeat the ritual. As I did so the eclair tightly tucked up in-between my legs slid inside me as I became lavishly greased with melted chocolate and cream. It was heaven. I wanted to cry out but my mouth was still held wide open by the eclair Pie Mistress had pushed in earlier. Soaked to the skin, stuffed with éclair… in every orifice I was in heaven.

'Mmm!' I croaked and I puckered my painted lips and sucked some smooth cream out of the éclair, it's body softening in my mouth. I licked the girth of the eclair playfully with my tongue enjoying the warm chocolate slither down my grateful throat. As it softened great daubs of cream and chocolate dribbled down my mouth and soon I was able to pant and gasp with pleasure.

Every time that hand whisk issued its fearsome whirr I received another sticky treat and I shouted aloud what I was told. 'Wastage is the baker's biggest sin.'

'Again,' Pie Mistress cried.

'Wastage is the bakers biggest sin.' Oh! How I thought never to question Pie Mistress's authority again.

Soon exhausted, I hung from my bonds limply, sobs of pleasure trembling through my body.

'Wastage is the bakers biggest sin.' I said softly.

Finally, Pie Mistress cracked a single egg on my head and watched it slowly slide downwards shell and all. Then as a finale she pours a catering tin of sticky treacle over the egg. It collects in my hair until it cascaded downwards. Following strands of hair it slides evenly down over my face, ears and back. It felt viscose, like oil and remarkably sticky. It was like a final coating, a finishing touch.

I hung exhausted and satisfied. Minutes past. Then Pie Mistress rubbed me all over with her sticky fingers. Mixing the blend until I was covered. Trish then threw down the whisk and Pie Mistress released me from the manacles. They both burst into hoots of laughter.

'Your punishment is done,' she cried pointing to a mop and bucket. 'But you may only go home when you have cleaned the floor to my satisfaction.'