Mr. Goodstuff & Mrs. Goodstuffing: The 55 Sheds
Part One
A glass was carefully balanced on his studdering forehead.
"There we go. I'd stop shaking if I were you, because THERE IS acid in that glass." Mrs. Goodstuffing suggested, emphasizing the point as if to be obvious.
Rope was secured around her ankles, then trailed to the knots around her wrists, and finally to the noose around her neck.
"That is a beautiful look for you, Sweetness. Makes me just want to..... eat you up." Mr. Goodstuff objectively complimented, licking his lips before reciting the semi-sarcastic ending.
These two very innocent people were stripped to the skin they were in, the joint tendons behind their knees were severed to prevent any option of escape.
The male victim was placed facing the roof of the shed with his back on the concrete. The only thing shielding his back from the cement were layers of sharp gravel and broken glass Mrs. Goodstuffing laid out. Even though his arms were shackled to the floor, the innocent man's palms were stapled down by rusty horseshoe nails. Sprawled out like a pagen on the cross, his captor named him The Gingerbread Man.
The Maniac Sweetener, as the media labeled her masked persona, sat back in a metal folding chair with her thick bronze thighs crossed, her full pink lips were in a fantasized smile and her gray eyes in a memorized stare. As The Gingerbread Man shivered harded, the rising of his agony, the authentic primal fear worn on his face, The Maniac Sweetener's thighs tightened more around the drip of her salivating smile. A smile equally as full but much more saturated than the lips on her face. The back of her short cut jean shorts was a mess with the rains of her sadistically brewed waters.
Mr. Goodstuff, or The Savage Chef by the media's title of his mask persona, was squatting right next to the female victim. A chef's apron was draped around his neck, but no shirt covered his chiseled dark skinned torso. The Manic Chef's pitch black eyes were attentive and admiring the woman in rope, marveling at the great combo of his work and her creamy white skin. Mr. Goodstuff's imagination claims her as The Dame Macadamia.
One of The Savage Chef's hands were holding on to a rope that went up and around a pully wheel nailed in to the ceiling, which lead to the knots secured around the soft legged victim's ankles. Her legs were bent at the tendon severed knees, her feet were dangling by the will of the rope held by The Savage Chef. If he were to release the rope, The Dame Macadamia would be gagging until her blue eyes rolled to the front of her brain. The female victim's lifeless legs would free fall to the concrete and pull the rope around her wrists, finalizing the chain reaction by vicing the noose around her neck.
That wasn't the only worse case scenario The Dame Macadamia was frightened about.
Mr. Goodstuff reached his hand toward the female captive, his middle and ring finger landing on her bare back.
"My ancestors, you are gorgeous. Your skin is so smooth and your growth is so healthy."
The Savage Chef began to actively trace his fingers on the captive's bareback, his midnight oculars were low and tantalized.
"Your luscious breasts are time stopping, fit for the delicious being you've become."
Mr. Goodstuff middle and ring appendages found their way to the sides of The Dame Macadamia's full chest, drawing intimately on the exposed peaks and pink areola.
"Your round ass is both toned and tender without even trying. The switch it displayed when I first saw you is why I saw you."
Mr. Goodstuff's fingers rewinded to the soft legged victim's back and detoured to her rear. The Dame Macadamia shivered and shook as The Savage Chef traced along the split, never inserting and continuing to tease.
He finally pulled his lively hand, but was not finished admiring The Dame Macadamia's anatomy.
By this time, The Maniac Sweetener's hands found a home in the chest of her strapless blouse and inside her unbuttoned shorts, even more enticed by her husband's influence of BDSM. One of her feet were perched on the edge of the cold chair with her knees spread like wings of an angel, but with the hungry luster of a malevolent demon. The Gingerbread Man was already crying as if to be broken, but of which flavor of his agony, if not all, was the mind splitting mystery and The Maniac Sweetener's dark sided ecstasy.
"You have two very identical sunshine smiles, the lips on your face and the Y between your thighs. Both equally as plump in their lips. Both equally as inviting in their gates. I can almost guarantee that they are both equally as wet upon entry." The Savage Chef remarked before moving his middle and ring fingers toward his mouth.
"No, Darling." Mrs. Goodstuffing halted her husband before moistening the appendages. "Let me do it."
Mr. Goodstuff didn't get a chance to grant her permission. The Manic Sweetener jumped from her chair and kneeled next to her husband. Mrs. Goodstuffing took her husband's hand with a grain of force and unhinged her jaws, webs of her honeyed saliva were connected to The Maniac Sweetener's wide tongue and the roof of her warm mouth. It wasn't just the sensuous slobber waiting in the hungry oasis, but also the desire to feed that hunger. Mrs. Goodstuffing decorated Mr. Goodstuff's middle and ring fingers with thorough licking, and painted them with her warm sticky plasma.
The Maniac Sweetener slowly removed The Savage Chef's appendages from her raining jaws, a silk strand of her drool stuck to her husband's fingertips and back to Mrs. Goodstuffing's bottom lip.
A salivating connection of their malevolent unity.
When the moist thread finally broke at it's limit, the residuals descended and pasted to Mrs. Goodstuffing's chin. Using the index finger next to his drenched digits, Mr. Goodstuff wiped the silk string from his wife's mandible and sucked it off.
"Always sweet like." He complimented the taste of his psycho-neurotic lover, planting a symmetrical kiss on her slobbering lips.
Again, The Savage Chef gave his attention to The Dame Macadamia.
"Do you see what all that erotic sexuality you possess is doing to my wife?" Mr. Goodstuff rhetorically ask the captive as his hand levitated over her back, the sweet waters drowning his fingers dripped on her bareback.
"Even she can't hold back. Believe it or not, my hard bodied harlot is the one out of the two of us that is the most sane." The Savage Chef explained with a chilling grin, the silver gilded to his teeth added another level of savagery to his name. His moistened fingers descended toward The Dame Macadamia's buttocks, the sticky rain splashing around the split.
"Now I can bet that she is wondering just as much as I am....." Mr. Goodstuff's wet digits curled toward the soft legged captive's Y. "...... How delectable you actually are."
The Savage Chef's fingers were so close to her bulging slit, he could feel the all natural heat radiating from it.
The Dane Macadamia sobbed uncontrollably and begged vehemently thru the gag in her mouth. The unwanted presence touched the gates of her untainted womanhood, prepared to break down it's walls.
!CLANK!
A loud crashing metal thud was heard coming from outside the shed, withdrawing The Savage Chef's fingers from his victim and The Manic Sweetener's fingers from herself. The Goodstuff Twosome simultaneously looked at each other then the shed's hatch door, both pondering on what that could be.
Part One