My American girlfriend Jo and I are very competitive in a friendly, sexy kind of way and exact regular messy forfeits from each other as a consequence of various wagers or bets. Jo is quite short at 5 foot 2 and is a bit conscious of her height. From my point of view, her petite stature merely augmented her wonderful breasts. She has brown hair, usually worn in a bob, and a few pretty freckles.

Jo recently completed a History course at night school and so it was only natural that we laid a bet on the result. When the post landed on our doormat the day of the result, Jo leapt out of bed and ran to pick up the envelope. She came back with a massive grin on her face and thrust the sheet of paper with 'A' grade written on it before my eyes. I smiled and congratulated her: Jo had backed herself to the limit and won. We are both gracious losers, particularly when there is real achievement to celebrate.

We had agreed beforehand that the forfeit in this case ought to have an historical flavour to it. July 4th was coming up and Jo decided that she wanted to organise her own Independence Day celebration a version of the Boston tea party.

Jo prefers me to be nearly nude when I'm messed up I was given a pair of her black stockings and suspenders to wear with nothing at all to hide my modesty. As I walked into the room I could see a wooden chair standing on some plastic sheeting while Jo adjusted the video camera. She was wearing a short maid's tunic which was consistent with the theme of a tea party if historically a little dubious.

Asking me to lie down, Jo first of all poured a bucket of ice-cold tea all over me, leaving me gasping. She then made me drink tea out of the spout of a teapot until I had to spit out the tea leaves. After I had received a good soaking, Jo stood me in the centre of the plastic sheet and produced a large tub of a sticky black substance. This had started life as molasses but had been thickened with something and darkened with black paint so that it looked exactly like tar.

Jo stood on to the chair and started to pour. My world turned dark as the tub was up-ended over my head and the thick, sticky treacle slowly cascaded down my body. The dark syrup was then rubbed in well, Jo paying particular attention to my hair and face, prick and balls, arse and chest. I was then made to stand in the remnants of the molasses tub. Those of you who know your history will know what comes next. Jo produced a couple of pillowcases and emptied the feathers inside over me, coating me in white down from head to foot. She ran her hands up and down my body, ruffling my feathers so to speak, and giving her feathered bird a good preening.

For the conclusion, Jo had prepared three huge, gross custard pies. The pies reflected the theme of Independence. There was a red pie with a cherry on the top and a filling of cherries and syrup. There was a blue pie with a blueberry in the centre and a filling of blueberries and syrup. Finally, there was a white pie coated with frosting and a filling of runny honey.

Jo picked up the blue pie and slapped it in my crotch, rubbing it in and breaking the crust on my dick. She then took the red pie and laid it carefully on the chair. Leading me by the hand, I was carefully sat down on the pie and its contents crushed into my behind. I commented that it was a shame Jo had forgotten to decorate the centre of the white pie. With a wicked grin, Jo told me not to be so sure. Holding the custard pie on the edge of the chair, Jo wanked me until I spurted my cum on to the white frosted flan. She then planted the pie on my face, twisted it, and smeared the crust up across my face and on to my head leaving me well and truly crowned.

I could not deny that Jo had got full value for her A grade and given me one hell of a messing. As I trooped off to the shower, I could see Jo busy at the computer up-loading the digital film and preparing choice snippets of my humiliation to email to her girlfriends.