Sams Saga 02 Sam Cleans A Kitchen

After Sameena's first messy outing she had been waiting eagerly for another opportunity. But with a couple of weeks of forced mess-celibacy behind her she had almost given up hope. Then, one cold November evening after her regular shift she received an email from the cleaning company she worked for part time:

We need someone to fill in for the regular at McNoodleKing on Bridgegate. It's right in the middle of town - easy to get to. Their normal cleaner is off ill so they need someone who's free after 6 on Thursday. First come first served.

Sam hit reply and had sent a response within seconds. Less than a minute later she had an affirmative response of her own and her excitement begin to grow from there. A small time fast food restaurant like that was guaranteed to have mess she could play in. She'd been there once or twice before and she knew she could practically splosh in the grease left on the packaging, let alone the actual ingredients in the kitchen.

She chose her outfit carefully and ahead of time, but within the restraints of her uniform. She had to wear pretty stuffy, boring polo shirt with the company logo on but beyond that she was limited to wearing a black skirt or trousers. She chose a plain black pencil skirt - tight fitting and sexy, but with an easy-opening zip for easy access and plenty of give in the waistband. She would wear thigh high stockings underneath, and a plain, stretchy black thong. She had given a lot of thought to the underwear. She was torn between having something to fill and looking and feeling sexyx. The flimsy thong was a compromise - roomier than a skimpy G-string but sexier than plain knickers. After that the bra was a simple decision - matching white. She knew her underwear would probably be unsalvageable afterwards but it was going to be worth it.

Thursday couldn't come soon enough for Sam but when it finally did arrive she found that she was unable to concentrate on anything all day. Getting her hands on that lovely slop was all she could think about. Toast was burned, cups of tea were spilt and on the way to the restaurant she was lucky not to crash numerous times. Somehow, though, she arrived in one piece and was moments away from fulfilling her craving.

First things first, however: she had to wipe down the tables. She had decided after last time that it was a good idea to get the real work out of the way early on, rather than be stuck there till 5AM cleaning up twice as much as necessary.

That was easily done but she seemed to be stalling. Was she nervous? Maybe I'm just delaying my gratification, she wondered. No, she was genuinely anxious, she realised. This was a much more public space in the middle of the town centre, not some fancy pants studio out in the leafy suburbs. There were windows and people occasionally walking by said windows. People might see.

No, I'll go in the kitchen, she decided. Out of sight. Anyway, that's where all the good stuff will be.

In fact, the kitchen was only separated from the seating area by a counter. There were no windows in the kitchen, at least, but from the right angle someone might be able to see right in. Fuck it, she'd waited long enough already. If anybody saw her, so be it, she would just have to hope it wasn't a member of staff.

But where to start?

Last time it had been an accident. A very happy accident, but she had been sploshed by fate,

not by choice. Just as she started to make excuses to herself she found the leftovers. There were a whole host of half-eaten and barely-touched meals waiting to be disposed of. This could be the jackpot.

The food here was quite an eclectic mix of artery-clogging nastiness. Fatty burgers, greasy noodles, sugary milkshakes - you name it, this place did it. An idea quickly dawned: Sam decided to make a little game of it. She would open the various meal boxes and get messy with whatever she found inside, somehow or other, regardless of the contents. Whatever she opened is what she would be covered in. A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine - she was finally ready to begin.

Sam knelt on the tiled floor and pulled the first box towards herself, allowing herself a deep breath and a huge grin. It was a burger of some kind. She paused. What could she do with bread and meat? Wait a minute, she thought, prising open the stale bread. Bingo! It was coated in nasty ketchup and cheap mustard. The fact that it was discarded and bitten-into disgusted her but made her want to do it even more. She picked up a half-bun in each hand and pressed one into each breast, letting the lurid red and yellow slime soak through her company t-shirt. It took a moment before she felt it on her skin but when she finally did it was like she'd opened a pressure valve. Something pent up had been released and there was no going back.

She quickly grabbed the next styrofoam box and inspected its contents. Noodles! She could see the grease glistening on them as she lifted them over her head with her right hand. With her left she gripped the neck of her t-shirt and pulled it away from her ample chest. But as she looked up she noticed that she had already attracted an audience - two blokes were stood at the large shop-front window, gawping. When they realised they'd been spotted they cheered her on silently from beyond the glass, bawdy expressions on their faces.

Sam hesitated for just a moment. Neither of them had reached for a phone but they weren't looking ready to leave mid-performance either. The thought of being watched hadn't occurred to her till now but she could feel adrenaline rushing through her. I might as well give 'em a show, she decided, and tilted the carton, sending a cascade of slippery, slimy noodles over her chest. She couldn't hold back her giggles as the thin little strings of starch wriggled over her breasts and stomach, some landing in her cleavage, the remaining heap resting around her flat tummy. It was a unique feeling she'd never felt before and she had to give it another go. She grabbed the bottom of her tshirt, and started to toss the noodles inside, letting them wriggle their way down her chest and stomach again and again.

Her new-found audience were cheering her on. She wondered If there noise would attract other people but by now she was past caring. It was time for the next box.

She shuffled over a little, forcing the slippery noodles to shift around again and reached for the nearest container. Her hand fastened around a drink container, almost full with soft, still slightly chilled milkshake. She pulled open the waistband of her skirt and knickers in one movement and poured in the soft ice-cream-like gunk. Her mouth opened of its own accord and out came a succession of short, breathy "aieee" sounds as the cold slime filled up her stretchy white thong. There was far too much of it to be contained - it flowed over her pussy and into the back of her thong as well as oozing out of the sides and down her thighs, finally starting to puddle on the floor. Her whole body shivered with a mixture of cold-induced shock and sensual thrill.

It was all getting too much for Sam now. She wanted more - needed more. She wanted to ruin herself until she was a quivering, unrecognisable mess and the fact that there were witnesses to her degradation just made her want it all the more. She scrabbled around frantically for more mess. Her hand landed in a plate full of various leftovers. She opened and closed her first around it several times, enjoying the sensation of it squelching between her palm and her fingers. When she finally looked over at it she found that she had been squishing hot dogs, mustard and ketchup. Scooping it up in her palm, she clasped both hands together and began to massage the combined gunk into her long black hair, slicking it back in one greasy mass. At last, she wiped her hands over her face before looking around for something else.

By now Sam was just shoving her hands into containers until she found something full enough to be worth using. Her hands were coated in various types of goo by the time her left hand landed in a bowl full of jelly and ice-cream. Perfect. She looked up at her two fans, showing them the contents of the bowl while at the same time removing her skirt entirely. The pair of them exchanged disbelieving glances before giving her another cheer. Another wave of excitement washed over her. Was she enjoying this more because she was being watched?

It didn't matter, she decided, emptying the bowl onto the floor. She was certainly enjoying her newfound freedom after removing the skirt. What a sight I must be, she thought, standing her caked in mess with just a t-shirt, my tights and knickers on, two strangers watching me through a shop front window. It's like some weird Amsterdam street show and I'm the star.

That was enough dawdling, though; she shifted her body so she was crouching over the mess she had made and let herself drop onto it, bum-first, with an audible splat. The impact squished the milkshake in her thong and the jelly and ice-cream beneath her, saturating the flimsy material of her thong. Now, she had to wriggle in it, she had no choice. Her body took over and she squirmed playfully, getting the mixture of sugary mess into every little nook. The feeling of it squelching around was a special kind of self-indulgent glee.

It wouldn't be long before she would be making her own sweet-tasting mess, she knew, but she wanted to destroy what was left of her clothing and of her decency before she was done. Her right hand was deep in her gooey thong now as her left hand fished around for something with which to complete her debasement. Her hand landed in a plate of barely-touched bangers and mash. The gravy had visibly congealed on top of mash that looked like cheap and nasty packet mix left out too long. She knew the two blokes outside would be loving this but she was too lost in herself to even look in their direction any more. She could feel their eyes on her slimy body and that was enough.

Not that Sam had long to dwell on any of that anyway. She was so close to finishing up that she could feel her body begin to tense. Her fingers were working on overdrive. Without further hesitation she knocked the sausages out of the way and lifted the plate of sloppy mash and lumpy gravy to her face. Splat! She let her face sink into its soft, welcoming surface and shuffled her nose around like a pig looking for truffles. She timed it perfectly - at the exact same time as a wave of euphoria washed over her and her whole body sagged with relief. She sighed happily, sitting contentedly in a slimy puddle of her own making. Her fingers continue to circle her clitoris lazily for some time.

Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice was saying she still had work to do and was she really going to get in her car and drive home like this? There isn't a shower in here, it said. Her audience had left, too, presumably having realised the show was over. But right now she couldn't care less about any of that. Instead she rolled over on to her back and smoothed the multi-coloured slime over the remains of her uniform. Cleaning up could easily wait.