Sweet Tooth Vol. 01

|| Summary

Sweet Tooth is a suspenseful and taboo tale about a woman, who -- with the help of an eccentric younger man -- finally overcomes her life-long sweet tooth. Expect a surreal, playful story about a unique Dom/Sub relationship, told in ten gloriously messy chapters.

|| Chapter One: The Benefits of Discipline

Samantha sat at her desk, anxiously chewing on a lollipop-stick and scanning the office beyond her cubicle for near-by co-workers. She spotted Simon - the intern - brewing coffee in the break room, and Meghan - her boss's latest bombshell of a secretary - who was currently bent over the photo-copier, trying to unjam what looked like a particularly nasty tangle of shredded paper. No one would notice if I did it, right now, Samantha thought to herself, feeling her heart begin to pound against the inner-wall of her chest. Right now... I could... Just, right now...

Still clenching the plastic lollipop-stick between her teeth, Samantha glanced back down at her phone, which sat on-top of her lap, like a bridge between her round thighs. The text message she'd received a minute ago still lingered on the screen, stubbornly, as if to give her no option but to submit: Change of plans. Meet at my place. 2 PM. No later. Then another text, directly below that one: You'll have to leave work early, no choice.

Samantha reached into the drawer of her desk and pulled out a fresh lollipop -- strawberry -- then tore the plastic wrapping off and tossed the sucker back into her mouth, like an alcoholic taking a shot of whiskey. Samantha gnawed on the lollipop madly, watching for any sign of her boss. Moments passed, but she still hadn't seen him. Right now, Samantha decided. Go right now...

Meghan looked up from the photo-copier briefly as Samantha strolled past, but she didn't seem to register her co-worker's early departure. Phew, Samantha thought.

She continued making her way toward the door at the end of the corridor, suddenly feeling very self-aware of how little her body-type suited itself to stealthy scenarios such as this.

Simon waved to Samantha through the break room's window as she passed, with a grin which seemed decidedly out of place to her. One phrase repeated in her head, like a paranoid drum, synchronizing itself to the tremendous throb of Samantha's heart-beat: He caught me. He caught me. He caught me. Then: He knows. He knows. He knows.

But a moment later, Simon lowered his eyes back down to the coffee brewing in-front of him, wearing that same oddly toothy grin he always wore. He hadn't actually acknowledged anything out of the ordinary, Samantha realized. Interns are just naturally creepy people, she thought, closing the distance between her and the door to the staircase at a brisk pace.

Before exiting through the door, Samantha chanced a quick glance over her shoulder. Meghan was still occupied by the photo-copier, cursing at it under her breath. Simon appeared to have spilt coffee onto his tie and was desperately trying to soak it out with a napkin. Lets hope no know notices I'm gone, she thought, before disappearing without a trace...

Samantha began to make her way down the six flights of stairs that led to the underground parking-lot, feeling an embarrassingly spontaneous sweat break-out on her forehead. She'd never voluntarily taken the stairs before - either up or down - but right now, during her Great Escape, it seemed like the most prudent thing for her to do. It was the only way to guarantee that Samantha wouldn't accidentally bump into her boss, Mr. Creighton...

As Samantha descended, the beads of perspiration on her forehead became denser. If she hurried, Samantha supposed she'd be able to stop at her apartment first, have a quick shower to freshen-up and a change her clothes, before...

...before...

Before what?, she asked herself, feeling a quivering sense of giddiness pass over her. What does he have in store for me?

It was Samantha's birthday today and she had asked her Master, Jasper, for something very specific: a surprise. She supposed for most girls the word "surprise" would carry certain romantic connotations: dinners prepared in secret, names spelt across the sky, a trail of roses leading to a warm bath. But Samantha wasn't most girls; and more to the point, Jasper wasn't most men.

He was twenty-four -- making him younger than her by over a decade, a fact Samantha was never able to stop reminding herself of -- and a man of considerable wealth, both inherited and independently-gained. Though they never spoke about the subject of his career directly, it was clear to Samantha that Jasper worked in finance of some manner.

On many occasions -- including the day Samantha had first met Jasper at the dog-park -- he expressed to her that he possessed neither the desire, time or nature necessary for a conventional relationship; he'd been very clear about that. Explicitly so.

And indeed, the dynamic they'd shared over the past two months had been a unique one: concentrated intensity, without subtly, without compromise. She'd come to learn that the highly demanding way in which Jasper went about things was, truly, all he could ever be capable of; and, in short time, she'd became dependant on the structure which his dominating personality provided her. Discipline, Jasper had taught her, when applied right, could be mutually pleasurable -- and he had been telling the truth, she now believed.

There were other benefits that came along with Jasper's discipline; besides mere pleasure, of course. In the month since she'd met Jasper, Samantha had lost nearly twenty pounds. This morning, before leaving her apartment to drive to work, her scale had read: 260 lbs // 118 kg. Two-hundred and sixty pounds was still a very large number for a woman of her short stature, but it had only been a month so far, and already, the difference she felt was immense. And her drive for self-improvement hadn't waned yet, miraculously; this was thanks to the creative rewards and incentives Jasper provided her. And also, to the strict and unwavering hand with which he punished her...

|| Chapter Two: Pets & Their Owners

Samantha made it to the bottom of the stairs, then stopped to catch her breath.

She was no longer worried about running into her boss. Samantha had finished the last two flights of stairs lost in recollection, remembering the day she had first met Jasper. The odd mixture of shame and excitement this memory possessed made her feel nearly delirious.

He had taken it... Snatched it right from my hand...

Samantha had been walking her poodle -- a chubby, stubborn little thing, named "Princess" -- when Jasper had noticed her. And I had worn my expensive sweat-pants to the dog-park that day, she recalled. Samantha had bought the pants a long time ago, thinking the embarrassment required to ask the girl behind the counter to order them in her size -- not to mention the steep price-tag attached -- would be enough to guilt herself into working-out regularly; but, of course, she had inevitably abandoned the notion, and now the expensive sweat-pants that had once come with such lofty ambitions were relegated to being worn solely on hot, lethargic days.

And that was another thing she remembered about the day she met Jasper: it had been hot as Hell.

Samantha stood under the shade of an oak tree, waiting for Princess to finish going about her business. She could feel perspiration beginning to pool under her arms and her sweat-pants had long ago turned a darker shade of grey. Jesus Christ, hurry up, Samantha thought, but Princess seemed determined to take her time.

So, resigned to endure the heat just a little longer, Samantha collapsed against the oak tree and dug through her purse. She retrieved a candy-bar and began to unwrap the foil, still glaring at the little shit of a dog. You stubborn bitch. And that's when Samantha heard someone behind her speak. It was a deep voice, with an unwaveringly measured tone.

"Who's the one slacking off? -- You, or your dog?" Jasper's voice seemed oddly warm, even though Samantha couldn't mistake hear the underlying sarcasm.

Is he making fun of me?, she thought. Samantha whirled around. Her momentum stopped just shy of making her tangle her legs together and fall into a heap in-front of the strange man's dress-shoes.

"No, ah...", she said, feeling her face tingle -- in a couple moments, if she didn't turn her face away from this strange man, Samantha knew her cheeks would be lit-up. Looking down at the grass below her feet, she continued: "With my job, I don't get much time to work out, I suppose. Not any--"

"What's your name?" He had interrupted her, but for some reason beyond her understanding in that moment, it hadn't bothered Samantha one bit. In fact, it made her heart flutter for a moment, as if he had complimented her somehow.

"Samantha." She was blushing, now. She could feel it on her face, like a sun-burn. "And your's?"

"Of course you have time, Samantha", he replied, returning to the previous subject without missing a beat. His voice felt firm, like a hand placed on her shoulder might. It caused Samantha avert her eyes. "Why'd you stop?", he asked.

The redness on her face seemed to sizzle now. Samantha glanced down at Princess, unable to answer. The fat dog was lazily sniffing the chocolate-bar she held limply in her hand, tongue hanging out.

And just then, Jasper reached forward and took the already partially melted chocolate-bar from her hands. Samantha watched him do it, her eyes wide and her jaw unhinged. "Come now", he said, in the mildly disapproving tone of a seasoned teacher, then Jasper tossed the chocolate-bar into a near-by garbage-bin.

He took it... Snatched it right out of my hand...

Samantha was crossing the underground parking-lot, moving swiftly in her high-heels, when she spotted him out of the corner of her eye: Mr. Creighton, the boss. Her first instinct was to duck behind the nearest car, so she did just that.

Then Samantha saw Mr. Creighton give a friendly nod from behind the car's bumper, so she immediately pretended to be lacing-up her shoes. Dear God, I hope he doesn't notice I'm dressed in heels right now...

"Hello Mr. Creighton", she called out.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Craven!", he called back. "See you bright and early tomorrow morning!"

|| Chapter Three: The Yellow Brick Road

When she arrived at Jasper's residence, Samantha found an envelope stuck to his front-door. Birthday Girl was written across it in her Master's loopy handwriting. (Anything Jasper wrote looked to Samantha like a series of unpredictable roller-coasters, with awe-inducing ascents and sudden plummets.) Inside the envelope, she found a note. It instructed Samantha to let herself inside...

She opened the front-door and was greeted by the something that struck her as entirely surreal. Samantha blinked for a long moment, bewildered, before realizing what it was that she was looking at. The first thought she had was: he had used rose pedals, after all; but of course, that wasn't what she was looking at. Not exactly.

There was a long trail of yellow sprinkles, which lead from the welcome-mat into Jasper's home. It was the width of a traffic margin and it looked to her like some bizarre, confectionary version of the Yellow Brick Road. The path of sprinkles started by curving away from the doorway, toward Samantha's left, then begun winding its way into the bathroom; there, the trail seemed to double back out of the bathroom and cross the foyer. Next, it lead up the master stair-case, climbing it in a meandering river of sugar. Oh my God, she thought, still staggered. What is this? -- Some game?

Samantha craned her head upward. At the top of the stairs, she spotted three helium balloons tied to the banister, bobbing in the air at various heights. The first ballon read: Happy, the second: Birthday, and the lowest one had her name written across it. This third ballon seemed to hang in the air differently than the other two, as if weighed down by something she could not yet see.

Samantha felt her heart begin to pound like a drum again; only this time, the phrase that accompanied the throbbing beat was: Not most men... Not most men... Not most men... This was an intoxicating notion, because Samantha knew Jasper's unique brand of creativity -- both deeply perverse and somehow innocent -- meant her "surprise" would be something truly remarkable; but on the other hand, his singular sense of pleasure and peculiar taste often meant a blindness to what others deemed acceptable.

Jittering slightly from the cocktail of dread and over-whelming anticipation that pumped through her veins, Samantha began to follow the Yellow Brick Road...

In the bathroom, she found another note. It was attached to a small box, which had been meticulously gift-wrapped and placed on-top of the marble counter, surrounded by a sea of sprinkles. The note read, simply: 'Fourty-five minutes. No more, no less.'

The box contained many presents, each individually wrapped with tissue-paper: a bar of soap, plain in appearance but heavenly scented; a miniature bottle of shampoo and another of conditioner, both with French labels she couldn't read; and a bright red kitchen-timer.

Samantha set the timer to forty-five minutes, then placed it on the counter-top and begun to run the bath...

|| Chapter Four: Voices Heard in the Darkness

The garage was pitch-black. Silence echoed off of the cement walls. It was the closest to full sensory depravation that Samantha had ever experienced.

Even if there had been light, Samantha still wouldn't have been able to see a thing. Jasper had gagged and blindfolded her, after ordering Samantha to climb on-top of the table and to lay down flat on her back.

While being bound, she had felt remarkably calm. Jasper's hands had a way of soothing her, no matter the context. But since then, Samantha had been given only this compounding silence to keep her company; and now, it was threatening to suffocate her...

Where is he?, Samantha thought, feeling a burning desperation ignite inside her chest. And how long does he expect me to lay here? The intoxicating uncertainty Samantha had felt earlier -- while soaking in the bathtub, blanketed in warm suds -- was now beginning to curdle into something resembling dread. It was becoming all to easy to picture herself as the hopeless damsel in some exploitative, B-grade horror movie.

Once or twice, Samantha thought she might have heard the sound of shoes scuffing on the concrete floor; but after a few moments, she wrote these off as mere tricks of the mind.

It was hard to know exactly how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity, even though she knew it couldn't have been longer than an hour.

And that's when she began to hear the voices. They were far-off sounding, muffled and indiscernible. The blindfold around Samantha's eyes obscured not only her vision, but her hearing, too; still, she was able to pinpoint the sound as coming from Jasper's adjacent living-room. Not matter how hard she tried to concentrate, though, Samantha simply couldn't make out a word of their conversation.

She squinted her eyes under the satin blindfold, attempting to block out even the darkness from distracting her. But the harder she focused, the more distant the voices seemed to become, as if Samantha had been recalling them from a dream. Suddenly, she wondered if these voices hadn't been her imagination trying to fill in the void left by this deafening silence, too.

This is driving me nuts. I can't handle this for one more mi--

Her thoughts were cut-off abruptly, when Samantha heard the door to the garage opening. This, she was sure, was no trick of the mind...

|| Chapter Five: The Yellow Brick Road, .ii

After Samantha emerged from the bathtub, feeling ecstatically clean, she wrapped a towel around herself and walked back out into the foyer. "Jasper?", she called out, hearing her voice echo back toward her. "Are you home?"

No answer.

She climbed the stairs slowly, wincing with guilt every time a drop of water fell from her wet hair onto the floor. As Samantha approached the two balloons at the top of the banister, she felt her heart-rate begin to accelerate. Something appeared to be attached to one of the balloon strings, weighing it down. As she drew closer, Samantha discovered it was a letter, bound with red ribbon.

Samantha took the rolled-up letter to Jasper's bedroom, then sat down on the edge of his bed-spread to read it. There were two pages, one labeled Our Agreement and the other Necessary Preparations.

The first page was a contract... of sorts. It included a space at the bottom, where it was indicated she ought to sign her name, but Samantha wasn't sure how seriously to take all of it.

Her eyes skimmed up and down the page, picking up bullet-points here and there, some reasonable and others concerning:

"You will be bound for two hours and provided limited mobility" [...] "There are no safe words, as you will be gagged for the majority of the duration" [...] "You may never learn the identities of the other participants, but be assured that they've been strictly screened" [...] "For today and today only, the dietary restrictions I've imposed upon you are lifted" [...] "Until instructed otherwise, stay out of the basement..."

Samantha hesitated, then signed the "document". What does he mean 'other participants'?, she wondered, feeling uneasy about the possibilities.

The second page, titled Necessary Preparations, was more of an itinerary:

03:00 PM - 04:30 PM

In the kitchen, you'll find an apron on the counter-top, next to a recipe book. Prepare all of the desserts I've indicated with Post-It notes. And I've already taken the liberty of numbering them in the most efficient order of preparation.

There is a Birthday cake in the fridge. It does not need to be plated. Do not touch.

04:30 PM - 05:30 PM

While everything is baking in the oven, tidy up the living-room. Wipe down the coffee-table, vacuum the carpet. I will be meeting some of our guests for the first time, so I want to make a good impression.

05:30 PM - 06:00 PM

Home to inspect your work. Afterwards, I'll take you to the garage, where you'll wait until 7:15 PM.

6:00 PM - 6:30 PM

Our guests arrive. Cocktails will be served.

6:30 PM - 7:15 PM

While guests mingle in the living-room, two participants will enter the garage to make final preparations.

7:15 PM - 9:30 PM

Birthday Party.

|| Epilogue: Final Preparations

It wasn't Jasper who walked into the garage. Samantha heard two distinct sets of foot-steps and neither had the measured gait she'd come to know as his. Their voices whispering back and forth as they approached, but Samantha was only able to make out a few scarce phrases: "her fat tits", "we'll need more icing", "be ready in time?"

A set of hands cupped themselves under Samantha's left breast and lifted it upward, in an oddly clinical manner, as if she were being inspected. It didn't feel particularly good. Samantha suspected that this was a practical gesture of some-sort... But to what end?

She attempted to ask the stranger what he was doing, but the gag in her mouth proved more effective than she had thought. Samantha heard the two strangers laugh amongst themselves at whatever sound she had managed to make, before one of the men patted her on the shoulder. A moment later, another set of hands lifted her other tit, holding it up. This second set of hands felt smaller than the first and evidently, they were having a much harder time of managing Samantha's colossal breasts.