Helion's Kitchen - Book cover

Helion's Kitchen

Elle Chipp

Bonus Points

The substance on his finger is spread all over my tongue, and at this moment, its overpowering saltiness is all that I can process. I use my tongue to absorb it all, but the flavor is hard to identify.

It can’t be a common sauce, as it’s unique. And it can’t be a blend of flavors, as it’s too potent. The options quickly run out, and then the digit is removed. I’m still none the wiser of what it could be, and I hope he’ll let me have more.

“Please, Chef, that wasn’t enough. I need another taste,” I beg.

“I’m not known to be merciful, Little Chef. But for you, I’ll make an exception. I’ll even provide it straight from the source. Would you like that?”

The huskiness behind his voice has me pressing my knees together, and I have to remind myself to focus on the food if I’m to be able to stay here longer.

“Yes, Chef, please. If you’d be so kind.” I sigh in relief, but confusion takes over when he stands in front of me, his feet touching the outsides of mine.

A hand grabs my shoulder, urging me to scoot forward, and my knees hit his legs as I do. I slide them between his and wait.

A rumbling sound comes from inside his chest. “Open up,” he orders.

And like the good little chef that I am, I oblige.

Something velvety smooth and bigger than a finger pushes against my lips and teeth. It forces my mouth to open wider as it penetrates the space. I know instantly that it’s his cock. And butterflies dance in my stomach.

I open even wider for him, taking him to the back of my mouth. He’s big; my jaw already hurts. I try not to gag as he holds it there.

As if reading my mind, he leans forward to whisper in my left ear. “If you can make me cum, you can stay, Little Chef,” he says.

I don’t need to be offered this deal twice. I snap into action. My lips close around him, and my tongue moves to caress his foreskin. I bring my hands up from my lap to use them, but he bats them away.

“I don’t think so, Little Chef. I want only your mouth or it would be far too easy.” He thrusts himself inside me, hitting the back of my throat, and I suppress a gag.

He might be big, but I’m good at this and not one to shy away from a challenge. I grab his legs to center myself and bob my head up and down his length. I use my tongue on his tip, flicking it along the line that runs down from the opening to just under the head.

The mystery flavor invades my mouth again, then a lightbulb lights in my mind. It’s cum. Well, pre-cum. I swallow it and take him in deeper.

“Fuck,” he groans out from above me, and my heart races at the sound. He’s close.

I pull back and focus just on his tip. My tongue swirls and flicks, my mouth provides suction, and my lips contract around him, giving him a tight hole to go in and out of.

He grunts his pleasure, and I know he’s almost there when he starts bucking his hips.

I then decide that simply making him cum isn’t good enough for me anymore. I want to redeem myself fully in his eyes and get those brownie points.

I open my mouth wide, lean forward, and pull the backs of his legs toward me, signaling him to thrust. My throat relaxes as I take him in. I reach up to find his hands and place them on my head.

He grunts and moans as he fucks my throat. Then I begin to hum, and the vibrations are his undoing. His cock begins to pulse and throb as hot semen squirts down my throat.

He pulls away from me, and I hear the sound of heavy furniture moving. But just for an instant, like the desk has been bumped. I imagine him slumped against it, cock out and fully drained. It makes me smile.

I hear him pant, then grunt, then the blindfold comes off. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust.

He’s walking back to his desk, and when he turns, his cock is still out. I look up at his face, and he’s staring at me with even darker eyes than before. His smirk tells me that I passed the test.

“Pre-cum,” I answer his earlier challenge without thinking. “Your pre-cum, to be precise.”

“Good girl. It seems you can stay. Now run along and play with the others while I clean myself up.” He waves me out of the room with one hand while reaching for a tissue with the other.

I rise eagerly, excited for my second chance to be working under him. “Thank you, Chef,” I say and open the door.

Before I can step out, he says, “Oh, and Little Chef? Don’t you dare be late again.”

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