The Forfeit

"My my my, you certainly like writing checks your ass can't cash, now don't you?" Brigid smirks as she approaches you. As she ties her jet-black hair back into a messy bun, she gazes at the piles of mess she's had brought to the private room with an entertained smile. She's dressed all in black today, with a short black pencil skirt and hose, and a lighter, closer to gray blouse. She taps her foot expectantly, gazing at you tied to the chair in front of her, and smiles.

"I'm going to enjoy this immensely. After all, you just had to choose the team that beat my beloved Ravens. Well," she says, her expression twisting into a quizzical pout. "I suppose it's more that your team beat the team that beat my Ravens, but that doesn't really matter. I'm still going to demolish you, after all."

"I must say though, your little bet made the game far more interesting for me to watch, at least." Brigid says nonchalantly as she saunters over to the table laden with mess, the sound of her heels clicking lightly on the floor of the room. "I'm normally not a terribly big fan of football, but knowing that I would get to do this to you if you lost?" she says, picking up one of the pies on the table to examine it more closely. "That made it all worthwhile." Then, without missing a beat, she turns on her heel and launches the pie directly into your face.

Your vision goes dark for a moment as the thick layer of cream and chocolate mousse filling envelop your senses. You try to reach up instinctively to wipe clear your eyes, only to be met with stiff, cold resistance. Your hands, stretched behind the back of your chair and bound in iron manacles, do nothing to help you get the cream from your eyes. Shaking your head eventually causes the pie tin to slide loose of your face, landing with a thick, wet *thud* right in your waiting lap. Just as a shiver slithers its way up your spine, you feel another two meaty wet slaps ring against the sides of your head, coating you further in what you can only guess from the taste is strawberry cream and vanilla.

"Fo wie ah wa sahi" A faint, muffled voice calls out to you. After a moment, you feel a gentle hand scrape away some of the pie filling from your ears.

"Like I was saying" Brigid says. "It's going to be much harder to taunt you mercilessly with mess this thick. I think I might have to actually clean you up a bit." You hear her sigh, before the sound of her heels clicking away on the tiled floor of the chamber get farther away until the sound stops entirely. You're left for a moment, left in total blackness, feeling the lumpy bits of strawberry drip off of your cheek and down onto your lap, which is beginning to soak through with filling. The strong, mixed scents and flavors of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry all compete to fill your nose and mouth. At least she didn't skimp on the quality for the mess

You hear the clicking of Brigid's heels getting closer, and you brace yourself for another mess that doesn't come. Suddenly, however, you feel the cold rush of metal against your inner thigh, and suddenly your crotch is exposed to the air. Another quick snip, and you feel your underwear cut away as well, leaving you beginning to rise despite the cold. Brigid strokes a finger under the underside of your shaft, flicking the very tip with her nail playfully.

"I was going to pour something over you to clear your vision." She says as you hear the sound of a lid popping. "But there's nothing over there that's thin enough for my liking and non-savory, and I want to enjoy this a bit." You try to move your legs to adjust your dick as I sags slightly to the side, but your legs are bound fast to the chair legs. You're completely spread, and completely at Brigid's mercy. Before you know it, you feel Brigid's hand creeping slowly up and down your shaft, working to get you hard again. Once you're fully at attention, however, you feel Brigid's hand move down to your sack, grabbing it gently but unyieldingly. As you feel your balls in Brigid's hand, she gives them a small, playful squeeze just to prove that she's in control. Almost immediately after, your dick is submerged into an astoundingly thick, heavy goop.

"Marshmallow fluff." Brigid whispers mischievously in your ear. "After all, I want this to be good and sweet before I have to ruin it with savory. Along the side of your cock, you feel a long, slow lick make its way gently towards your head, where you can feel the pressure of Brigid's lips press against your glans. She gives one more long, sensual lick along the other side, before you're snapped back with the cold and pain of a pie being dropped suddenly onto your crotch. You hear Bri laughing sadistically as she rubs the pie filling around in her hands for a moment.

"Sorry," she says, pecking the tip of your nose with an unseen kiss. "But I can't have you shooting off yet, now can I? Maybe, if I feel like it, I'll pick up where I left off at the end. Once again, you're left in blackness as the clicking of Brigid's heels slowly fades. Your balls ache from their brief tease, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Your attempts to find relief, however, only result in grinding more bits of pie crust underneath your thighs.

All of a sudden and without warning, your center of balance shifts and you feel yourself falling backwards. Your fall stops in midair, as you feel your back pressing into the back of the chair as it teeters on its back two legs. You feel a light tugging at your feet, before your shoes come flying off. You hear them clatter to the floor somewhere off to the side of the room, and shiver your feet slightly as your socks are pulled off and tossed as well.

"Alright girls, let him down!" You hear Brigid call from in front of you. As your chair lumbers forward again, you feel a sudden shock of cold as the front legs of the chair, and your newly bare feet with them, go plunging into two large buckets placed down on the floor. On your right foot, you feel the cold grittiness of what seems to be oatmeal, while on your left, your toes tickle as thin strands of cold spaghetti worm their way between your digits. Just as your body is beginning to adjust, there's another cold shock at the top of your head. A thin layer of cold beans slides down your face, plopping into your lap and clearing away much of the excess pie filling. You can finally see again, just in time to watch Brigid pour the last of the beans into your lap, as well as down into the buckets holding your feet.

"How's that?" she asks, giving you a moment to feel the slop slowly dripping off of a few stray strands of hair. "Having fun yet?" She comes forward, and sweeps away a strand of hair that had fallen across your face, caressing your filthy cheek gently. Then, with a sudden shift, she reaches down and rips the sides of your button-down shirt, sending buttons clattering to the floor. Then, she takes two of the pies from the tables and grinds them into your chest, rubbing them up and down until there's not an inch of your chest still uncovered. Then, she takes a third pie, and waves it just inches from your face. She holds it still, for just a moment, pulls back to slam it in your face, then

She keeps it back. Looking over to the table, she picks up the bottle of mustard before spraying the entire bottle over top of the pie. Afterwards, she pulls back and slams it right into your face, giving you a mouthful of the awful mixture of cherry and mustard, before sliding the mix up and into your hair. As you try and shake the tin loose from your hair, you can hear a light, digital *click* coming from in front of you.

"Don't you just look dashing." Brigid says sardonically. "I'm going to keep that on my phone forlater. Don't you worry about that. Besides." She says, taking one last picture. "You have more immediate things to worry about."

You can faintly hear Bri humming a tune to herself as she walks over to the table again, before she begins to walk around you. The soft clicking of her heels leaves your left ear and starts to ring in your right; each step keeping time to her playful tune. Right at the top of the beat, she flips the pie tin off the top of your head before slapping an egg down on top of your head on the next beat. Before you can even really process the stickiness of the egg white sliding down your back, Bri cracks another egg. The yolk slides down your cheek and down your chest, and it's soon joined by several more as Brigid picks up the tempo of her song. Finally, Brigid reaches her crescendo, and you brace yourself for another egg.

And then, nothing. She has to be up to something, you think from beneath the heavy layer of cream and egg on your head. That's when it hits you. Yet another pie, aimed perfectly at your face, knocking your head backwards and splattering against the floor behind the chair.

"Sorry about that." Bri says with a layer of sarcasm as thick as the layer of mess concealing your vision. "I ran out of eggs before I finished the song, so I had to improvise. Besides, there's still so much left, I'm not entirely sure what to do with it all. Unless" You still can't see, but you don't need sight to feel the exact sadistic grin that rises across her face. For several minutes, you sit where you are, wallowing in the mess and your ruined clothes, as you hear Brit uttering around the room. Before long, you hear a bouncy plomp of something hitting the floor, following by pouring of lots of liquid.

"You know." Bri says, hovering close to your right ear. "I'm kind of missing summer. Why don't we go for a swim?" She wipes a hand across your face, revealing a large kiddie pool already filled with several gallons of cake batter. Grabbing the back of your chair, she pushes forward, tipping you down into the pool. You land the the pool with a soft squelch, lying on your side. Bri grabs the chair leg and pulls, shifting you up onto your back. As you sit with your hair mired in the heavy batter, Bri begins to pour a bottle of maple syrup onto your chest.

"I'll have to thank MSE later." She says, surveying the damage. "I do love maple. Pumpkin spice can suck it." She then takes up the bottle of chocolate syrup and drenching your legs in it. "Now then." She says. "How about dessert?" Brigid picks up the last two buckets, taking the first and pouring cold, half-melted chocolate ice cream all over your face and chest. While you struggle to see or breath under the lumpy goo, you feel a sharp thwap of semi-solid yogurt flooding between your legs. Bri finishes the job with three more pies; one dropped directly onto your face from above, and the other two down onto your chest. You can hear Bri take out her phone and snap a few more pictures of the carnage before she wipes away the mess on top of your mouth and nose, giving you a breath of fresh air. A quick kiss follows, before she straps something to the tip of your dick.

I hope you're comfy." Bri says. With a single *beep!*, the small vibrator whirs to life. "I'm going to go wash up. After all, I seem to have gotten a bit of ice cream on the side of my hand, and that won't do at all!" Once I'm done, I'll come back to see how you're doing. In the meantime, I'll leave you with my little toy here to keep you entertained. Ciao!"

One last time, you hear Brigid's heels click out of the room, leaving you to stew in the pile of mixed mess and the teasing beat of the vibe pounding against you