Page 46 of Bake the Town Red

“Sure you are.” I move around her, pretending I’m there to untie her. “Here, I just need to stretch this…”

“Dahlia?” Her voice grows frantic when I pull one of her butt cheeks to the side.

“What are you doing?” She squirms. “These are my private parts.”

“And those weremycupcakes you dropped.” Before I finish the sentence, I push the cupcake into her clenched asshole.

A smidge of the cupcake goes in. The rest smears on her pucker and ass. Crap. This isn’t going the way I hoped it would.

“Noooo,” she mewls, jerking her body when I swivel it, trying to shove more into her. “Not there. You said you’d let me go.”

“Hmm.” I remove what’s left of the cupcake, keeping it within reach. Using the frosting as a lubricant, I take two fingers and jam them in her ass. That does it. That gets the cupcake inside her. “Success!”

“Noooo,” she cries out, same as before. “Enough.”

“Would you have stopped threatening me if I begged you to?”

“Help!”

“Help isn’t an answer, B.”

I curl my fingers and push them to the side, forcing her butthole open. The clenched ring of muscles widens for me, and there you go, more frosting and a larger chunk of the cupcake are jammed in.

The big chunks are the trickiest. I pull it off anyway.

“Yes,” she screams. “I would’ve stopped.”

She locks her ass tighter. One push and she would’ve farted the whole pastry in my face. Good thing her brain is too fucked to think about that.

“Liar.”

Once I’m done with the chocolate, I grab the vanilla cupcake.

“Please, no,” she cries when I move around to her front and wiggle the cupcake in her face. “Enough.”

“No can do.”

Her pussy is bare, the lips fat, hiding her other hole from me. Undeterred, I push one to the side with my dirty latex cupcake- and poop-covered fingers.

I’ve learned my lesson from her ass, so I don’t just shove it in. I place the cupcake on the floor, ignoring the soundtrack of Birdie’s cries. Or maybe I do listen to them. Yes, I do. Her humiliation is music to my ears.

I dip three fingers into the cupcake.

Vanilla and frosting coat my fingers. I collect a good, healthy chunk. Just as big as the bites she used to take before dropping my pastries to the floor.

“There you go.” I push it as deep as it’d go inside her pussy. It’s loose, unlike her ass. It can fit more too. I take what’sleft of the cupcake and fill her up. “Two complementary cupcakes, Birds. Can I interest you in another one?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Her eyes follow my movements as I straighten and head for the table. A selection of seven chocolate and vanilla cupcakes waits for me there, ready for her. “Please, stop this. You can’t do this. I’m one of New York’s finest.”

“You’re a prick.” I point an accusing finger at her, smiling as I do. “That’s what you are.”

“Fine, fine. I am. You’re absolutely right.” Tears that actually look genuine leak from her eyes and land on my tarp. “I’m the worst prick in the world. That’s me. Anything you say.”

“You should’ve thought about that before today.” Armed with one chocolate and one vanilla cupcake, I squat in front of her face. I wonder if she smells the cupcakes or her body fluids. “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.”

“True, true—” More futile attempts to get herself out of this mess.

Won’t work.

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