PEGGED TO ORDER
by Ellie Saxx
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Ellie Saxx on Smashwords
PEGGED TO ORDER
Copyright 2012 Ellie Saxx
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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I’m going to wrap this all up by telling you about the day everything changed – the day of the Sex Inspection.
Some background: I worked at a restaurant named Chez Galois. I couldn’t get enough of the head chef, a man named Stack. When I started that job, I thought I’d always and forever be the dominant one in my sexual encounters. Stack changed me. At least, momentarily. My on-the-job audition involved him lifting me on to a table and fucking me with a cucumber.
Yeah, it was that kind of relationship.
Once I’d passed his test, Stack set me up with three horny guests in the private dining room. I was dessert, and I was a well-worn dessert that night, I assure you.
I desperately wanted to switch things around. It was turning me on to think of subduing a man Stack’s size, strapping him down by his wonderfully strong arms and legs and torturing him slowly...sliding myself around on his chest, sucking him until he quivered, teasing him with my tongue.
I could come up with quite a few things I wanted to do to Stack. He was your standard tall, dark, and handsome chef – wide chest, beautiful arms, and an ass you wanted to grab on to forever. Well-built but lean after years of marathon nights in the kitchen...but I digress.
Most importantly, I was getting tired of being an item on the Chez Galois menu. Don’t get me wrong: the random encounters were utterly amazing. I simply wanted the power to chart my own course. I’d never drifted for a man before. I always caused the drifting, and I missed watching the effects of my specific brand of sexual gravity. I was proud of myself, proud of my body, and I didn’t like the way I was shying away from my own desires just because Stack could melt me inside with a quick, appraising glance.
Enter the inspection team. See, what I learned after enough time at Chez Galois was that this wasn’t some one-off restaurant-cum-brothel. It was part of a national chain of high-class “custom dining experience” restaurants catering to nymphomaniacs much like me. Every year a group of Sex Inspectors assigned one facility a Triple Diamond Rating based on a staff’s overall sexual prowess. Stack and Chez Galois had never even made the finals of the competition.
Until the year I worked there, that is. I like to think that the quiet man with the gigantic penis recommended me after my stellar effort accommodating him on the dessert cart.
On the day things got flipped, the Sex Inspectors were setting up shop for the final examination in our largest private dining room. They’d already reviewed our facilities and the staff’s portfolios and comment cards.
What they needed next was something that had Stack stalking the kitchen nervously. This year’s Triple Diamond winner would be the restaurant whose head chef performed most admirably in a sexual encounter arranged in front of the 10-member inspection panel. Specific encounters were assigned at random.
Our encounter was called “Head Chef a La Rotisserie.” Specifically, he was going to get pegged. By me. In the fine print, there was a single secondary requirement. “The head chef of a Triple Diamond facility must exhibit superior mastery of ingredients,” the instructions read, “no matter what the circumstances. This includes the ability to generate fresh, high-quality semen at will. Samples will be required.”
We were ten minutes away from taking the floor. Stack looked worried as I turned a pink PVC harness over in my hands. It was a g-string, more or less, with a notch to lock a dildo into place. The dildo itself, all ten solid inches of it, was on the counter. It was bright purple and had a pleasing shape – wide head, thick shaft, veins and ridges that would provide extra stimulation. That’s what Stack was eyeballing.
“Are you sure that’s the right one?” Stack said, eyes wide. “I’m not convinced. Anything else in that box?”
“That’s it,” I said. “Nothing else but a tiny vial of lube.”
“Damn,” he said.
“Don’t worry, Stack. I’ll take it easy.” I smiled at him as I hiked up my black mini-skirt. I slid my panties off slowly, giving Stack time to stare, and then I pulled the harness up in their place. The PVC was thrillingly cool on my bare legs. The harness fit snugly and a small rubber mound that would help anchor the dildo pressed quite nicely into the gathering warmth between my legs.
“Anything else! Anything else and I’d have knocked it out of the park,” Stack said. “Here we are on the most important night of my career and I just have to...take it? From you? Not even the assistant manager?”
“Hey now,” I said. “The inspectors personally selected me for this role. There must have been a reason. Now look – have you ever been with a man?”
“What do you mean? Of course not,” Stack said, crossing his arms. “Don’t be stupid.”
“Well, you’re missing out,” I said, “but that’s beside the point. I wasn’t sure if you’ve had anything like this in you before. Never even gotten sucked off?”
“No,” Stack said, annoyed. “Why? You’re not sucking me off. The instructions say that you’re supposed to fuck, not suck.”
“Right,” I said. “They also say that you’re going to have some cum collected. Eight of the ten people on the panel are men. Eighty percent chance one of them’s going to do the taste test. Those two women were into each other. I could tell.”
“Whatever,” Stack said. “Let’s get on with it. I’ll do my part. You just look pretty and don’t screw anything up.”
That’s the kind of guy Stack was. He got pretty snippy when things weren’t going well.
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,” I said, picking up the dildo and running it playfully between my legs, enjoying riding its girth more than I let on. “I know I would. And I’m just a teeny tiny little girl.”
We headed for the private dining room. Stack was in the required outfit: white boxer-briefs and a tight black t-shirt. The underwear hugged his ass, which was well-rounded from his daily bike rides to and from the restaurant. His thighs looked great, too. They had a thickness that I attributed to either college soccer or wrestling. Like tree trunks.
I had on my mini-skirt over the harness, no underwear, of course, along with a fairly standard-issue white blouse, like what you always see in restaurants with “Chez” in the name. I wore a black bra underneath. No wires. My ample breasts bounced slightly as we walked down the hall and the movement was, well, gratifying.
The lights in the dining room were configured to illuminate a rectangular area in front of the inspectors’ table. I could barely see them when we stood in our assigned spots. We were side-by-side for the initial inspection. I heard pens clicking and some scribbling noises. I felt my nipples tighten, and a warm surge ran from my toes up to my neck as I imagined the view from across the room.