Petits Fours

The kitchen counter was dusted with flour and smeared with blackberry jam. I leaned against the sink and sighed, staring at the platters of petit fours. Daddy and I had been watching Great British Bakeoff during aftercare and, in my goofy state, I had fallen in love with the concept of petit fours. Daddy was more than eager to make it an assignment two weeks later. Baking was just a hobby for me so diving into delicate little cakes was both thrilling and nerve wracking.

One platter had come out right. A simple white cake with a layer of blackberry jam between, coated in melted chocolate and a couple of sprinkles on top. I had made the seedless jam myself, determined to take everything one step more than Daddy expected. It was one of my traits that he both loved and drove him crazy. I often had to practice applying his expectations to my life rather than my own. He did own me.

The second platter was struggling. The cream cheese pound cake had come out right but the lemon curd was a little off and I hadn’t been able to get the white chocolate to melt right. I knew I should probably just redo it but I was tired and Daddy would be home soon. I adjusted a couple of them to try and make the lines a little more straight before giving up and going to shower.

Daddy was in the kitchen when I got out and grinned at me. I hadn’t gotten dressed yet and my hair was piled high on my head.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

Daddy pulled me close and kissed me. His hand slipped inside my silk robe to pinch a nipple until I squealed.

“I missed you today.”

I laughed.

“Look at what I did,” I said, pointing at the platters of petits fours.

“I was just looking,” Daddy said, going over to examine them more closely, “You did a good job.”

I sighed, “Well, the chocolate didn’t come out right on these lemon ones but maybe I’ll do something different next time.”

Daddy frowned a little and picked up one of the white lemon curd cakes.

“Looks fine to me.”

I had to giggle at my serious Leather Daddy holding a delicate little cake up in the air like it was a precious jewel. He raised an eyebrow, popped the whole thing into his mouth, and chewed.

Somewhere, a hint of arousal sparked to life. I watched as he enjoyed the pastry, eyes closing briefly to savor the flavors more. His tongue slipped out to lick his lips and I shifted from foot to foot.

“It’s delicious.” His eyes were still closed.

“Go into the living room, clear off the coffee table and kneel next to it.”

I frowned a little but turned around to do as he said. The wooden floor was chilly and I shivered in my robe, waiting for Daddy to come in. He carried both of the petits fours platters, put them on the coffee table next to me, and went back for a chair. He placed that in front of me and sat down, slipping one of his boots between my thigh. I squeaked.

“Now, I believe that I had told you that the cake was delicious and you didn’t even say thank you,” he said after a moment.

I blushed and whispered an apology. I hadn’t even realized that I didn’t say thank you.

“Head down, stay there.”

He got up without another word and I bowed my head. I could hear him in the other room although there was no telling what he was actually doing. I could see the platter of petits fours just out of the corner of my eye and realized he had eaten a chocolate one too. I wondered if he liked it.

A towel dropped next to me.

“Strip and kneel on the towel.”

He left again.

I folded and slipped my robe underneath the coffee table, out of the way and spread out the old bath towel. I kneeled on it again and was grateful for the thin towel between my knees and the floor. Daddy was talking to himself in the other room again and I strained to hear what he was saying. A few more minutes passed before he came back, this time with cuffs and my favorite blanket.


I offered him one hand then the other as he locked a cuff onto each wrist. He clipped them together behind me.


He popped another pastry into his mouth. A blindfold appeared and he slid it over my head before I could say anything.

“You stay very still now.”

I nodded. There wasn’t much else I could do at this point.

There were more mysterious noises. I could hear the platter scraping on the coffee table as he moved it. Heavy objects being placed on the wood.

“Open your mouth, boy.”

I was expecting a ball gag or fingers. Maybe his cock. But instead, Daddy placed a small cake in my mouth and instructed me to chew.

It was the chocolate and blackberry one. The cake had come out moist and delicious and I was glad that I had sprung for more expensive dark chocolate to coat the little cakes.

“Say thank you.”

I licked my lips and whispered.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Another cake was pressed to my lips and I obediently opened my mouth. The lemon curd exploded in my mouth, acidic and bright. It was delicious, just as Daddy had said.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I managed to say again, a little louder this time, before he instructed me to. I could hear him make a noise of satisfaction. His boot landed on my thigh, the rubber sole gripping and grabbing at my flesh. I whimpered as he twisted his foot around just so.

I could smell the chocolate as he pressed another petits fours to my lips. This time he teased, brushing the cake over the tip of my tongue. I leaned towards him, hoping my aim was right, but he kept the cake just out of my reach. Then it was in my mouth suddenly along with his fingers, slowly fucking my mouth with the cake.

“Messy, messy,” he whispered, sliding his fingers out of my mouth and down my throat and chest. I trembled from his touch.

“Daddy,” I whined.

His boot slid from my thigh and shoved between them. I groaned and shifted, trying to push my clit onto the leather.

“Don’t you move now, boy.”

I trembled. I wanted to desperately. I clenched my hands and tried to look at him through the blindfold. I wanted him. I needed him.

He pushed the toe of his boot into my cunt until I gasped.

“Keep that mouth open.”

He put one of the chocolate cakes in my mouth.

“Now do not chew. Do not swallow. Understand?”

I nodded. My mouth was already filling with saliva, the sweetness of the pastries tempting me.

Daddy moved away from me, from the chair, and I whined as his boot did too. I could hear him laugh and pictured him standing over me. I squirmed, imagining how silly I must look sitting on a towel, hands cuffed behind me, drool leaking out of my pastry filled mouth. I knew my chest was covered in icing and cake crumbs at a minimum.

A belt slid from his jeans. I could barely hear each button pop out of their hole. He stood over me now, a boot on either side of my thigh. I was still trembling, drooling more. The blindfold came off of me and I blinked up at him and his open jeans. I had to resist the urge to swallow the cakes and slide his cock into my mouth.

Daddy didn’t hesitate though. He slowly slid his cock into my cake-filled mouth, groaning as he did so. My mouth was so full. I wanted to gag, to pull back, but he wrapped one hand in my damp hair and held me still. I could just see that his eyes were closed as he seemed to savor the sensation of thrusting shallowly into my mouth. He finally let me go after a few minutes, pulling his cock out and studying my face.

“Go ahead. Swallow all of that.”

His finger traced my lips as I did my best. I was struggling to get my breath. The cake and his cock had made it hard to breathe but I wanted more. Daddy pushed back into my mouth the moment I finished swallowing and tightened his grip on my hair. His cock still tasted of chocolate and blackberry.

He moved slowly still and I wanted to whine and beg and plead for him to just fuck my mouth the way I liked it. But this was all about him. I closed my mouth around him and focused on him.

“Look at me,” he growled.

I did and he thrust into my mouth a little faster. His eyes closed as he fucked a little harder, a little faster, his grip getting tighter and tighter as his orgasm rose. I whimpered in pain. That was what he needed and he shoved the whole of his cock into my mouth as he came, pressing my face against his groin until he was done.

I was gasping for air when he pulled me off, spit still attaching my mouth to his cock.

“You’re a little messy, boy,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb over my chin and mouth. I flicked my tongue over the tip and he groaned.

“Shower time.”

Daddy helped me to my feet and unclipped the cuffs. He held one of my wrists tightly as he slipped a couple of fingers between my legs. I was hot and wet and squirmed as his fingers slid over my sensitive clit.

“Hmm, maybe we should have more dessert first,” he purred, smearing my cum on my face and mouth with a grin.

“Yes, please.”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *