Totally Dismantled.


The day had arrived, you're going for the messy session with him, it was time to select that outfit, he requires the look to be formal, he had informed you to dress accordingly. What f I don't? You think with a smile. As you open the dresser doors, you can feel your heart pounding, what blouse to wear? You question yourself, you know it's going to get totalled, all that money you spent on it for formal occasions has gone out of the window, all for the sexual rush that comes when he dismantles you with pies and gunge. You're already in your black stockings and suspenders, they fit snuggly, you know he's going to adore you in them, you catch a glancing look in the full length mirror. Wear panties, or surprise him, by wearing none! You select none, the day is warm and the skirt is just above knee length so nobody should see, before you allow them to. You turn back to the dresser and push blouses around on hangers, select a formal pristine white number, with breast pocket? Maybe a stunning satin number, full sleeve or none? You find the ideal candidate for the experience, it's a shiny white satin number, with full sleeves, you purchased it for a wedding, since then it has been worn in the office on a number of occasion's, in your eyes it was just gasping to be destroyed under layers, of gunge and goo. Bra or no bra?


Lets give him an eyeful when its saturated, you think to yourself with an impish grin; thus you choose to leave the bra at home for the play. You move over to the full length mirror to check yourself over and apply your make-up, your hair looks stunning, that trip to the hairdresser was expensive, yet well worth it, though it's soon to be all destroyed by him, as he keeps his promise and gives you the goo. You drink in the image of you. The blouse is white, satin, shiny
with a top bow, full-sleeved. The skirt, is black, knee length, slightly tight with a rear split. You have of course opted for black stiletto's to complete the formal destruction outfit. As you comb your hair, your heart rate increases you are ready. You fantasise about custard pies landing and destroying you and your outfit, with no remorse for your impeccable looks, he will come at you again and again, with whatever he sees fit. You get that sensation you crave for when
he is near you, you want him, will he take you this time, he has teased and told you that once your dismantled and sexually destroyed, he will have you as he sees fit. Your outfit will be in tatters, you will be sexually in tatters, it will be bliss. You get your keys, bag and head out of the door.


As you travel on public transport, you're turning heads everywhere, you look stunning and they know it, so much so, that they cannot help passing comment on it, the formal, pristine, sexual look, you look submissive yet confident. You ooze that formal sexual look that men desire from a female office colleague yet, in the current climate, they dare not speak of it. You glance out of the window, the bus whizzes past the stops, as your fast approaching your
destination with him, and his messy experiences. As you depart from the bus, you receive wolf whistles from several people, you thank the driver and leave, the doors close and once you depart, you note people looking at you through the windows. The bus draws away, you hear several car horns acknowledging your presence and looks, as you stand on the pavement looking divine. You get a text message from him, telling you he is waiting, once again you can feel your heart pounding through your blouse, you almost openly caress your breasts, but manage to pull back from the driving impulse, he makes you wild, even a simple text message sets your heart racing. You compose yourself and start on your journey to his place, where will the session happen? Upstairs maybe? In the kitchen? What about the spare bedroom? The questions bound within, but You will know shortly enough as your fast approaching his domain. You stop, and make sure that your one hundred percent perfect, nothing is out of place, it's now or never.


You walk up the path to the front door, you notice from the garden path the front door is slightly ajar, you peer through the gap, you cannot see anything unusual, you turn and look through the front bay window, you notice tarp laid out on the living room floor, surely he's not going to splosh you in the front room with people passing would he? You look round, he's not hidden down the side street by any chance, no he has to be inside, only one thing to do. You
push open the front door and peer down the hallway, it looks like the kitchen is tarped up as well, what is he up to? You take the plunge and walk through the front door, you look up the staircase, that is to the left just after you walk in through, no sign. You hear the front door close behind you, funny you left it open, it's him! You spin round to face him, a pie maybe? Your still carrying your bag etc. No! your met by him, looking stunning he presents you with a single rose, you melt, all you want to do is be with him for most of your waking day. He takes your bag, and keys. You get chance to glimpse his pert ass, you have a thing for it, especially kissing it. He does tease you somewhat over this fact. He invites you into the kitchen, you almost skip into the room after the rose incident. As you enter you get to see all the things laid out, the room is seriously tarped up, there are all the things that you've both talked about
doing to each other. Your eyes glance round at all the pies, buckets of gunge, an empty tarped up table, slightly longer than yourself, you just know at some point he's going to put you on it and fuck you hard! You glance at your hands they shake slightly from the excitement of the moment. You glance round the rest of the kitchen, it has all the normal utensils you would expect, of course they are all tarped up, so you can both play. You glance at your formal pristine office attire, and remember the wolf whistles from the bus journey. He is smiling, you know it's going to get very messy, you look round for the hat stand but cannot see it, what has he done with it?


You wait for his command, he gestures for you to sit, there is a chair placed in the middle of the kitchen floor, one last time you spin your eyes round the room, custard, gunge, beans, soup, chocolate, desert items. It's all their to play with. Again you feel your heart pounding, is this due to the impending mess, or because you love him? You're not totally sure, though it drives you like an animal. One last check over of the outfit, it's almost like saying goodbye to an old friend, though you know what is to become of it and yourself. You smile as you sit, you face him, again you look down at your pristine shiny satin white blouse, skirt and stockings, will he fill your stiletto's? As you wait with anticipation for the first assault, you can feel your breathing getting slightly faster and heavier.


You watch as he goes for the first item, a jug of gunge, is warm or cold? It's purple, he stands back and throws it at you. You watch as the gunge floats through the air, and lands on the right side of the satin blouse, as it impacts it's warm, lush! You look down and see the blouse staining slightly and turning somewhat transparent, your vision catches it as it dribbles down to the waistline of the skirt. A quick flick of your hair, tells him to do more. He responds as
you want, two custard pies, one in each hand, he approaches, your breathing gets very quick, can he see your breasts pounding through your blouse? You want him to, your eyes check him, yes he is looking he's not trying to make it obvious. SPLAT! Your face is engulfed by custard, you smell it as some goes up your nostrils, that cold lumpy liquid you adore engulfing your face like an old friend. As you sit there he smears it round your face, your eyes are closed. You feel the second pie impact your blouse on the left breast, he slowly rubs it in through the material, you so crave to open your eyes, to see what destruction has become your pristine blouse. You cannot help openly breathing heavily, it's a sure sign to him, that you're aroused, you have no control, it does this to you every time. You wipe your eyes clean and look down at your blouse, left breast is clinging to the material your erect nipple on full show, you look up at him and smile. He responds by pieing you on your head. Your head rocks forward slightly, you smile and giggle softly, as he rubs pie into your once fabulous hair, for some reason, you battle with enjoyment of having paid for it, just to have this destruction be done to it. As you flick your hair back, he busies himself with more goodies for your impending doom. You watch as he collects pies, gunge and chocolate sauce and the vanishes behind you. "You must face forward" he orders. You look directly at the cooker at the other end of the kitchen, waiting, craving the next wave of mess. The first pies comes in,
your eyes move to the right in anticipation, SPLAT!! You look down, you legs tremble, you get the first feeling, that tingling, sensation when he mess's your clothes in certain places. Your mind snaps back into vision, he has pied you right down the middle of your stunning white blouse all the buttons, and surrounding material are awash in custard pie, he only gone and smeared it right down the front, he knows you enjoy this. You cannot control yourself you
flick your head up slightly, moan and sexually sigh at the same time, again he can see your chest pounding from your heavy breathing. Your eyes head up to the ceiling he is pulling your head back with your hair, you feel something being mixed into your hair, it's sticky, yet feels smooth, the sensation, again you moan slightly telling him, your guard is slowly lowering. Then the smell hits you in a giant wave, its the chocolate sauce, once again your stunning hair has paid the price, you crave for him to push your head down, so you can see the full kitchen, you close your eyes for a moment, as you do, he pushes your head forward as you open your eyes, your now looking at your knees. You feel the collar of your blouse being pulled back, the sticky sensation dribbles down the arch of your back, in your mind you visualise the back of your blouse being stained from the chocolate sauce, it has the desired effect, you feel warm
in between your legs, you tingle slightly, you now want him to dismantle you totally. More sauce enters the back of the blouse, he pulls on your collar again, he tugs on your blouse for fun, just to make it awkward to wear, again you breathe heavily. Your temperature drops suddenly as your hair and face are attacked by a river of chocolate yazoo, your eyes drop down with excitement, as you dare to look at the river flowing down your blouse into your lap, where he has placed your head. Your skirt pools up with chocolate sauce, you're so close you could lick it from your skirt, you dare not, as your master may punish you.


Your vision comes back up to level, as he once again pulls back on your sodden hair, your eyes glance down to the drenched blouse, parts are now sodden, other parts just stained, some are becoming transparent, you watch as he walks back round you, he points at you, all you can do is watch, as you crave the next assignment, you follow his hands as he signals to you to sit on the floor, you obey. As you sit, you're now level with the bottom of the kitchen,
as he walks past, you're just below crotch height, if he puts you on head bobbing duties, you could at a push. He gestures for you to move away from the chair, you bump yourself into the middle of the floor. He walks round you, and pulls your shoulders down to the floor, you look up at the ceiling, he lifts your legs, you look up, to see what is happening, he smiles, oh god, he's going to fill the inside of your skirt, and your panty less! You try to make eye contact, it's too late he's seen his prize, he signals you to spread your legs you obey, you watch as he picks up two cartons of custard and tips the cold contents down the inside of your skirt onto your aching vagina, time seems to slow as you watch the custard head on its free fall journey to its destiny, as it hits the cold makes you react as though everything has speeds back up, you gasp out loud, your head comes forward and you look him in the eye, he winks as he makes eye contact with you. Inside you pray he'll do it, please, please, pour warm gunge into the inside of my skirt, you watch as he spins round and gets a bucket, of the purple gunge, you
start to pant out loud, you cannot control that sensation, the tingling in your vagina heightens. Again your vision double checks the situation, he does it, as he pours you drop your head back onto the floor and you stare up at the ceiling anticipating it. It lands with a splodge and engulfs your vagina, crotch and ass, half a bucket cascades, into places beer does not reach! The top of your skirt tries to hold the deluge back, but fails utterly, and it rages out onto the front of your blouse and all over the floor, he tap's your legs and you move your head to one side so you can see, you lower your sodden gunge and custard filled skirt, the mess floods over your stockings, your suspender belt is soaked in gunge, utter bliss. You look up as he moves about, what next? Another bucket your eyes follow him, big bucket orange, looks like, oh no, porridge, he stands to the left of you. You put your arms down next to your stomach and await your fate, he tips the bucket from some height over your blouse, the entire contents splatter all over your breasts, neck and shoulders, you gasp out loud from the experience, you look up and pay the price, porridge in the face, that flour smell engulfs your nostrils, as the flood continues, finally you feel it, your sleeves are being pounded from the porridge, your head flicks to the right, you look with utter excitement to your right blouse sleeve, it's being pounded and soaked by the liquid from the porridge, you blurt out "fuck yes" The liquid comes at your face like a river, once again you look back up at the ceiling and close you eyes, that splattering effect, as the porridge meets your face, again you feel your vagina aching, he could tear your clothes to pieces and fuck you like a rag, right now and you'd beg for seconds!


You shake your head to loosen some of the porridge that's now clogged up the knackered/ruined, yet expensive hair style, you open your eyes he's stood above, you love the sight of him being over you, again if he bent in front of you could go on head bobbing duties, you privately pray he does. He gets a catering flan, your eyes follow him round the room, he slides it next to you, he lifts your bottom with his right hand, you follow with your eyes, as he slides this giant flan under your bum, you know he's going to slam you into it, he should, you need him to. SPLODGE! Your ass is pushed in through the skirt, it makes you sit up slightly as cake sitting arouses you sexually, he teases at the same time, by not removing said skirt. You get chance to glance at your white satin blouse, it's in a right state, as you glance round the room, you see a surprise, your eyes transfixed, no god would he, again your vision double checks the situation, kids paint! You pray he destroys the blouse with it.


PLEASE! Your brain cries out slightingly, turn me into a ruined, owned gunged, painted slut, then fuck me, is your second thought. Your eyes give it away as he approaches you, he does it, squirts pink and bright green paint all over you, again it feels like time slows down as you watch the assault on your blouse and skirt, you feel yourself again breathing very heavily, you look down, a new sensation he's rubbing it in, all of your blouse and skirt are being dismantled with porridge, paint and custard, the bright colour mix in the with the food, you could climax just from looking at what he is doing to you, you resist. Finally he assaults your stiletto's, they get painted, bliss, your eyes follow every move of the stiletto destruction.


He signals to you, to get up, your breathing is somewhat erratic from the messy onslaught you're going through, you know he can hear you and it's a dead give away. You pull yourself up, your blouse and skirt stick to you from the bombardment that's just occurred, you take another glimpse at the wash of mess that is now covering your satin blouse. As you pull yourself up to your knees, your head spins round the kitchen, there are still lots more goodies to play with Yum! Again he signals, you must stand up, go over to the empty table and face the wall. You move into position all you can see is the kitchen wall, with what looks like a summer painting, that's obscured by the tarp that adorns the walls. You hear movement behind you, your tempted to turn your head and look, you resist, you know you will pay the price if you do, though what a price to pay! Mess slowly drips down as you stand facing the wall waiting your next bombardment, BANG! the force of something hitting your butt cheeks, through the skirt pushes your forward again, BANG! another item hits your right butt cheek this time, the skirt goes heavy, he's throwing pies at your ass. You spread slightly and lean forward onto the table, so he can get a better shot, BANG, BANG!, another two hit, you're starting breathing heavily again, its a total give away, you must have got his attention as, BANG! the next misses and rides up the back of your blouse, you feel wet oozing pie seeping through the material. You silently pray again, that he will miss, and destroy your blouse. As you face the wall, you jiggle your bum slightly, it works his aim is off, BANG! another pie splats up the back of your blouse saturating it in custard and cream. "Please, strip me!" you call out, you could not help yourself, the silent praying is no longer enough you need to tell him, you want to tell him. You can hear him approaching, dare you turn round to look, he's not given you permission, you remain looking at the painting, the straps on your stiletto's are being undone, your right knee is shaking slightly from the mixture of excitement and anticipation, you know, he's noticed, the right stiletto comes off, you hear it getting thrown across the kitchen, he unstraps your left foot, he puts the left shoe to your left so you can see it, it's full of paint, and custard from the previous onslaught. You hear him breathing, you look down at the table, you try hard not to give him the signals yet, as you crave more play. Once again, you silently pray, for him to take or tear your skirt off. You give a little wiggle to encourage the situation, you feel his hands on your cheeks, he rubs the mess into your skirt, again you shake from his presence. He's quick about it, a few little tugs and whole skirt comes down round your knees, the amount of porridge and custard, have helped somewhat! Your butt cheeks are now on display, along with your stocking and suspenders, you think back to the bedroom as you where getting ready, do they look the same, hopefully they look even better, is it getting him hard? You hear him step back, you can hear him breathing now, his sexual tension is now increasing you know those sounds well, maybe the praying did work? BANG! BANG! He catches you off guard with a pie in each butt cheek, it stings slightly, though in a good sexual sensation, your so aching for him to tell you turn round, maybe if you cough twice it might send him signals, you move your eyes to the left without moving your head, he's still out of sight.


"Turn around" he orders, finally you think, your eyes spin, as you turn to face him, you watch him as he eyes you up and down in your destroyed blouse and stockings and suspenders, please, please, pie me in the pussy, you try not to blurt it out, somehow you manage, not that you care, he could fuck you senseless at this point and you'd agree, you're an utter wam slut and you both know it! He picks up pies, you watch him your head follows him round the
kitchen as he moves to the left to get more ammunition. Then he does it! he's hidden a spreader bar, he approaches you and drops to his knees, he could pleasure you now, he looks at you, is he? No, he's playing too, you look down as he straps you in, your hair, dribbles a mixture of porridge, cream and custard onto his shoulder. As he steps away you grab a chance to take a look, your eyes check his attire, is he getting hard or is he already hard? You make no shame in checking him, you get caught in the act, he smiles, it's too late you know he is, he's very hard! You're spread there is no way to stop on bombardment of pies that are about to engulf your vagina, your eyes follow around the room as he selects several custard pies, plenty of cream topping, chocolate sauce etc. You steady yourself with your hands on the edge of the table. Your already breathing heavily, though now it's becoming a pant again, just the thought of being pounded with pies is enough to set you off, the tingling is getting worse, you ache to be taken. SPLODGE! the first pie impacts, it's a class shot it hits you squarely in the vagina, the force snaps your head forward, your head lowers, you're looking at your knees, custard pie dribbles down your stocking legs, SPLODGE! another hits you, it's impossible not to moan, you're too aroused again your head reels from left to right, you know he's watching, you eyes catch that hard on you want it! The next shot is class timing on his part, you're just raising your head, and panting at the same time when, SPLODGE! he doesn't throw this one, he places it and rubs it into your vagina, that's it you buckle, your right knee goes slightly, the effect makes you get a rush sensation to your vagina, you're on fucking fire inside! You knew it was coming, you look up SPLAT! your face is enveloped in pie, for that split moment you cannot breathe from the surprise, pie cascades down your neck and onto the front of your blouse, you move your hands up to your eyes so you can see. RRRRIIPPP! you feel your blouse being pulled forward, pressure piles on your back as the material tightens, then the pressure is gone, as your blouse buttons give up the fight, the blouse is torn open, not a single button remains intact. You try to resist this mixed food and clothing destruction onslaught, you fail utterly the fire sensation is now growing, you take a knee, your right, your right hand goes to the kitchen floor to steady yourself, you find yourself looking at the kitchen floor. Where is he? I cannot see him. You tell yourself. SSSPLLOOODGGEEE!! You rocket forward on your right knee and right hand from the force of the impact of the pie that had just been placed into your vagina from behind. You again snap your neck back, your head reels in any direction you will let it, you're panting beyond control, your brain tells you, fucking dismantle me now, that fire sensation is so strong you drop to your knees, you're on all fours again looking at the kitchen floor, panting like a dog that's been chasing a ball none stop. "Get up Slut" he shouts, oh god yes! You think, please verbally destroy me, you look up at him, he's finally done it his attire is off, that shaft is shimmering in the light of the kitchen, his shaft end covered in pre cum, he grabs the back of your hair, you melt, as you crave him doing this you during sex play, as he pulls you round your eyes dare not leave his shaft. He approaches you, as you look up, you grab the moment and lick his balls, again and again. He pulls you to you knees by the back of your hair, its not painful, its more of play thing, you like it rough, yet not too rough.


You look down his shaft as you start working it, you can see the veins protruding from the erection, you take him, as you slide up and down, your eyes follow the shaft, you close them to add to the sensation, he pushes the back of your head lightly, you take more. It only feel like a minute before he pulls on your hair, and takes you off, you gasp, and look round, what next? His spare hand has a pie in it, you close your eyes, it slaps you in the face, you lick the
custard and cream off, he pulls it away, and then presses it into your vagina, your buckle again, your hair hurts slightly as you apply more weight from your body. Again you gasp, "put me back on" you blurt, he moves back into position, again your once more looking down his throbbing shaft, you, suck, lick and kiss, like your life depends on it. Suddenly from above that cold sensation your recognise, custard being poured over you, your hair goes heavy, and light of the room disappears from your sight, as the engulfment is complete, he says something to you, it sounds loving, though you cannot hear properly your senses have been bombarded from the custard deluge. Again he takes you off his shaft, for some reason your brain, tells you head bobbing duties, you laugh inside. His arms come round the back of you and lift you under your armpits, your now stood up, once again looking at that picture, he moves your
hair to one side and starts kissing your neck, you role your head to one side, so he can take as much as he wishes, your hands massage your aching pussy, that fire sensation, is working its way throughout your pelvis, your not going to last much longer! He spins you round, you slide round on the custard lubricated floor, he kisses you very passionately, its a long kiss, as your body's entwine you cover him in mess that he has dismantled you with, you're on the ceiling mentally, your body is screaming, Fuck me, for god's sake fuck me! He slides down your back as you stand looking round the kitchen, the spreader bar comes off, you eagerly step out, he slaps your bottom, you squeal lightly, you look down he's going to work you over, his tongue dives into the red hot furnace that is your vagina, you look down and have to put your hands on his head to steady yourself, oh my god, you knees are trembling, if he carries on you're going to cum in his face, he sucks on your vagina wall lightly, well your sight seems to phase out and phase back in, that's hitting the spot, you look yourself over, your blouse is totally ruined, torn open, and now torn in several other places, your stockings and suspenders, are a wash with different colours from all the mess, again they too are saturated from all the assaults of the play. No time for praying now "Fuck me on the table, for gods sake!" you just tell him. He stops licking you, breathing is no longer patterned, it's more a random series of pants, of attempts! Never mind being on the ceiling, you're in the rafters.
He pushes you, your vision is blurred from all the mess, again you wipe your eyes, as he pushes up against the table face first, for some odd reason, you know this is the field of vision you wanted at the end of the session, you looking at a table top, as he destroys you from behind. He takes you, your fire is now unstoppable, the only way you'll be extinguished, is for your man to pull his trigger! He starts thrusting you from behind you. You move your head to one side, you cannot see him, but boy can you feel him, your head is roaming round the kitchen, nothing is in real view, it's just all a sexual haze, you're a fucking slut, he knows it, you know it, and for all you care the neighbours now know it. He pounds you harder, you look down at the table top, custard and other goo drips onto it, his hands clasp your sides, it's like two trains going head on, there's going to be one hell of bang! Your pelvis tightens "PULL MY HAIR!" you scream, as he responds your sight snaps back to the picture, that fucking picture! Your head moves upwards as he pulls your hair at the back, more pounding, your both sexual
wrecks, everything is colliding, you're not sure who cums first, its just an almighty wave of togetherness, as he cums he actually lifts you off the ground! your hands hold onto the table top, as for that split moment you are weightless, he groans as he does his job, your fieriness is slowly extinguished, he pulls you both away from the table and you both drop down into the mess, that is the floor, you hold each other for some time, you don't want to leave, time to get cleaned upand go back to reality, or is this reality?


Big thanks goes to Freewam, who took the time to help out with proof reading and writing techniques.