Looking much like a shrub surrounded by tall trees, petite Kelsey Gordon stood next to the other six remaining girls and waited for their lord and master to make an appearance. The day before had been completely surreal. Ten of them had arrived on the island together and were promptly marched to Chef Byron the Great’s domain.
He was an irritating man, and the only reason she put up with the crazy rules of the contest, was because he really was…well, great. With top-notch culinary training and internships under the best, he was bar none the most famous chef in the world with a multitude of awards and accolades, as well as cover stories in all the most prestigious culinary magazines. He was sought after by upscale restaurants in all the big cities, TV executives for their next hit reality show, and she’d heard rumors he was being courted to become the personal chef of several monarchs. The title of greatness was justified—that’s why she’d lied on her application about being submissive.
The opportunity to work under the award-winning chef was too great a chance to pass up, and Kelsey knew she could learn so much from him that it would add to her culinary chops exponentially.
As they stood at attention in front of him the day before, he’d eyed them all up and down. At five-foot-nothing, she had drawn herself up, standing straight and proud. She knew her voluptuous curves didn’t fit with the model-like bodies of the other girls. Didn’t they eat? They were chefs, for goodness’ sake; didn’t that mean you had to actually like food?
When he’d stopped in front of her and eyed her up and down, as though she was an inferior crust on an over-browned meringue pie, Kelsey had forced herself to stare him straight in the eye without faltering. She wondered what he thought of her tri-colored mermaid hair and curvy figure. Against her will she felt a spark of attraction that she knew was fruitless; a successful man as good-looking as Byron St. John wouldn’t give her a second look.
She stayed stock still under his scrutiny until he finally nodded and moved on. Only then did she allow herself to breathe, letting it out in a relieved rush.
He finished taking everyone’s measure and then immediately dismissed three of the contestants. They’d been stunned, one complaining volubly about being judged solely on her appearance, but one look from Chef had cut her harangue short and sent all of them sprinting out of his kitchen. Kelsey could hardly believe he’d let her stay, then he’d floored her with his next words.
“You seven will begin tomorrow. It will not be easy; I’m a hard taskmaster. I know this and have no plans to change. Disobey me and you will be punished, count on it. This afternoon you will all go to the spa and get waxed—Brazilian style. We can’t risk getting hair in the food. Rest well tonight, you’ll need it.”
With that he’d left them reeling, and on their own to find the way to the spa. Kelsey had wondered at the time how on earth her pubic hair was supposed to have a chance of getting into the food when she was working in chef’s whites. How naive she had been. Was that only yesterday?
The sound of the door slamming open pulled her from her reverie.
The chef walked in wearing his whites. He came to a stop before them, staring, with his arms crossed over a not-unimpressive chest.
Don’t be stupid, she told herself when her lady bits stirred with renewed interest. This is not a road you want to go down.
“You, you, and you,” he barked, singling out three of them, herself included. “I want you three to prepare a simple hollandaise, then something to serve with it. You may choose the item, but it better pair well with your sauce. The pantry is fully stocked. You have thirty minutes.” He said nothing more.
They all stayed in line gazing at him as if they were wax statues at Madame Tussaud’s and waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Kelsey jumped with the rest when he suddenly barked in a booming voice, “What are you waiting for? Now!”
She decided not to stick around and see what the other girls did, and sprang into action. She headed straight to the refrigerator in the wall. Keeping it simple was the best way to go; a little roasted asparagus topped with the hollandaise.
Working quickly and efficiently, Kelsey finished the task well within the allotted time. She did her best to ignore the chef when he walked by her station. The man could easily throw her off her game if she allowed it.
“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled.
She jumped, expecting to see him glowering behind her, but she turned to see him towering over Mindy, the one she secretly called Barbie—tall, slim, high pert boobs and a narrow waist. In a word, perfect. Barbie was staring up at him like a deer in the headlights, blue eyes huge and rapidly filling with tears. Kelsey mentally willed her not to break. If she cried, he’d have her for lunch.
Her powers of positive thinking failed miserably, however. Cringing inwardly, she contained a heavy sigh when she heard the first sob escape poor Babs. Crap, she’s done it now.
“Are you crying?” the chef asked in amazement, pointing out the obvious only making matters worse. “Crying in my kitchen is not allowed unless I give you a reason to cry! When I want you to cry, believe me, you’ll cry. Otherwise, suck it up, buttercup, and do as you’re told!” He issued this warning in an ear-splitting bellow.
“Maybe if you backed off and stopped acting like an asshole she’d wouldn’t cry,” Kelsey said sharply before she could stop herself. Well, there went her chance to work under him. But she couldn’t watch as he berated the timid little sous chef anymore. It was like watching someone kick a puppy.
He spun on her, his face frozen in astonishment. Slowly, his expression morphed into anger, a spark like blue fire shooting from his eyes as he demanded, “Did you just call me an ass?”
Tempted, she decided in for a penny, in for a pound and answered boldly, if not stupidly, “No. I actually called you an ass-hole. Emphasis on the hole. You are deliberately making her nervous and yelling with the intent to make her cry. Stop it. It’s not necessary to behave this way to determine the right fit for your sous chef,” she told him with a glare, crossing her arms over her ample breasts.
He tilted his head and studied her for a moment before giving a slight smile and nodding, “You’re right.”
She felt her jaw drop. “I am?”
“Yes. You’re going to be punished for the ass remark, but I’m sure you expected that when you did it,” he said almost conversationally.
“Punished?” Kelsey echoed. What had she done by bringing his attention away from the other girl?
“Good god, you’ve become a fucking parrot. Lose the pants and panties, then plant your nose in that corner while I deal with these two,” he ordered sternly, indicating Babs and Malibu Barbie, her fake tan counterpart. Both girls were crying.
“I beg your pardon?” she asked in outrage.
“You heard me, brat,” Byron said succinctly.
The term startled her, but something in his tone made her move. She quickly stripped from the waist down, leaving her standing before him in nothing but her chef’s shirt and rubber soled non-skid shoes, her hands crossed low in front of her. The top was long on her, but not nearly long enough. He would still be able to see her bare slit in the front and most of her ass in the back. She was horribly embarrassed, more so when she felt the tell-tale trickle of moisture leaking from her heated core.
Busily folding her clothes to mask her mortification, she carefully squatted in attempt to prevent showing all of her goods as she set them on the empty shelf beneath her work station. Why was she doing as he asked? She wasn’t a true sub, and she’d certainly never reacted to embarrassment by becoming aroused. That the other contestants and judges were an audience to whatever punishment the chef had planned upped the humiliation factor. Further, the thought of them watching made her wetter, much to her chagrin, and she didn’t know what to make of that.
A sharp swat to her bare bottom jolted her upright and back to awareness. “Ouch!” she cried as her hand flew back to her offended cheek. Another hard smack followed, landing on the opposite side. Her other hand quickly moved to rub the sting left by the second blow. Unfortunately, this left her front unprotected and to her mortification, his eyes dipped directly to her bits peeking out beneath her jacket. Naturally, both hands flew around in front, completely horrified.
“Where did I tell you to wait for me?” he asked, when his eyes rose to meet hers.
“The corner,” she answered softly, then yelped as his hand clamped around her upper arm and propelled her toward the corner in question. As she was hurried along, she felt her face heat, convinced her cheeks now matched the color of the bright red hand prints that emblazoned her bare ass.
He watched her scurry to the corner, eyes fixed on the vivid blush of color peeking out beneath the stark whiteness of her uniform top. Seeing his marks on her made him smile with satisfaction, as did the sight of her full bottom wiggling delightfully while she moved to do his bidding. He would have liked to savor the mouthy little sub’s hasty escape longer, but had to get rid of the two easy criers first, something he couldn’t abide. He shook his head as he looked down at them. If they were whining already, they’d have ulcers by tomorrow; best cull them from the herd immediately.
Both girls looked appallingly relieved to be dismissed, each giving him a whispered, “Thank you, chef,” before scampering out the door.
Again, he looked longingly at the rounded bottom now awaiting him dutifully in the corner, but shook it off. He had to judge the other contestants before he was able to enjoy dealing with the colorful Kelsey.
The remaining four were assigned a simple white sauce; if they couldn’t do basic there was no sense continuing. After carefully tasting all of the dishes, he was not at all surprised when Kelsey’s offering turned out by far to be the best. The girl had skill. She also carried herself with a confident competent air, which pleased him greatly, but he had several more challenges in mind before he could make his final decision.
He awarded second and third place, releasing the two runners-up from kitchen duty and adding an afternoon massage as a bonus, something the sassy winner would have also received and doubtless enjoyed if she hadn’t been awaiting the tending of her naughty bottom. The two poorest performers were tasked with cleanup, a thankless but essential job in any kitchen. When given their orders, each shot him a sour look, which they quickly quelled when he crossed his arms over his chest and raised a brow, a practiced move that sent men twice their size running.
He nodded in approval when they immediately started cleaning the stations. After they were done with that, David, his pantry manager, would give them crap jobs, further testing their mettle, not only to win, but to see if they had the determination to do whatever it took to make his kitchen succeed. If they couldn’t do what was needed, no matter how menial, as he had while working his way to the top, he didn’t want them. Still, he almost felt bad for them—almost.
Now that the nonsense was out of the way, he could deal with Kelsey.
He’d wanted the curvy little rainbow-haired imp from the moment he saw her, enjoying the defiant set of her head and her quick responses to his questions. This woman could go toe-to-toe with him when necessary; but he’d seen glimpses of the submissive within and felt certain she would bend as sweetly as a willow to the wind and submit under his control. She didn’t know she had it in her, however. When she’d stripped off her bottoms, giving him a glimpse of the arousal glistening on her bare mound, the surprise in her eyes told him she didn’t realize she was submissive. It told him something else about little miss Kelsey; she had fibbed on her application, at least she thought she had.
Barely able to suppress his grin, he grabbed the straight-backed chair off the hook on the wall. He kept it in the kitchen for occasions such as this, but used the hook to keep it out of the way.
He plunked it down a few feet from the corner and sat down. “Are you ready for your punishment?”
Apparently believing, or perhaps hoping, she’d been forgotten, Kelsey jumped in her corner, causing the red hand prints he was enjoying to jiggle delightfully. “Beg your pardon?” she asked without turning to face him.
“You heard me loud and clear, little girl. Come here.”
As he watched, she squared her shoulders and did an about face with her hands on her hips, cocking her head defiantly to one side. “I’m not a little girl.”
The entire rebellious pose was somewhat diminished by the fact that she was bare from the waist down, but he had to give her an ‘A’ for effort. The girl definitely had spunk.
“For today’s lesson you are,” he corrected her firmly, lowering his voice. “Come here.”
She visibly shivered then shook it off with a glare. “Now see here, buster, you can’t—Oh!”
He stopped her tirade by grasping her arm and pulling her face down over his lap, where to his satisfaction she fit perfectly. As her rounded bottom arched high for his attentions, he brought his hand down firmly twice in a row on the left side before moving to the right.
“Ow… hey! You can’t just… ooo! Stop. Ow… oww!” she yelped as she struggled. Her hand flew back to protect herself, but he easily gathered it in one of his own and moved it out of the way.
“That’s where you’re wrong, young lady. I not only can, I will. Discipline at my discretion was spelled out clearly in the contract you signed when you applied to be a contestant,” Byron informed her matter-of-factly as his hand continued to bounce off her bottom in a firm, crisp rhythm.
“Oh, please. Ow! I’ll be good! I promise!” she wailed, kicking her feet furiously as he brought the color in her spectacular ass up to a bright red, and he could tell by her cries it was increasingly tender.
He continued for another minute until he heard a little sniffling sound and decided it was enough for her first rodeo. Bringing the spanking to a halt, he lifted her to sit on his knee, catching her chin in his hand and forcing her watery gaze to his. “Have you learned your lesson?”
Her face flushed almost as brightly as her well-spanked bottom, but she managed to answer him with a wobbly, “Yes, chef.”
He smiled warmly at her and brought her into his chest for a cuddle. “Good girl.”
She hiccupped and leaned into him with a sigh before stiffening her shoulders again and pulling away. “Thank you for the lesson, chef. May I go now?”
He willed her to look up at him, but she was determined to retreat and he decided this time he’d let her. Tomorrow was a new day and his little Kelsey had already learned a lot in this one. “Yes, you may. I’ll see you in the morning, bright and early.”
Standing outside the door leading to the kitchen the next morning, Kelsey hesitated even though she was late. Although the soreness from the previous day’s spanking had faded, the memories had not. Chef had made her feel things she didn’t understand. When he’d spanked her, it had hurt, but it had also aroused her to previously unknown levels. Each swat had sent a jolt straight to her clit. Then he’d held her and she’d wanted nothing more than to snuggle down into his arms and have him tell her she was a good girl.
What the crap was that about? She didn’t need any man’s approval. She was an independent woman and had no plans to become some man’s doormat.
She sighed and straightened her spine, giving herself a little pep talk. “You can do this.” She could learn so much from him while winning this contest without allowing herself to become some sort of mewling sex kitten. “You can own this kitchen!” she said with more confidence, then with a sharp nod, she pushed the door open wide and went inside.
“You’re late!” was the barked greeting. She tried not to glare, yet failed miserably, quickly looking at the floor to hide her irritation. He was starting in on her early. Granted, she’d invited his wrath all on her own, but still…
The chef snorted. “We’ll discuss that look later, little brat, but for now, you best get to your station straight away or you’ll be pants-less and red-bottomed before the day even begins.”
She hurried to her station without a word and tried to pretend her face wasn’t crimson, except she could feel the intense heat. Offering a good morning to the other contestants in turn, she was stung when each of them turned their backs. She tried to pretend it didn’t hurt her feelings, but it really cut her to the quick. Why were they mad at her? She’d only tried to defend the other two girls yesterday.
“All right, ladies, now that everyone is here…” Chef shot her a meaningful look that she did her best to ignore. “This morning I want to see how you handle dessert service. Make me your best dessert, you have an hour. Go!”
The minute he said go, they all ran for the pantry and cooler, grabbing whatever they could get their hands on. Kelsey picked up a slow cooker, about ten good-sized apples, and several other ingredients, along with three cans of condensed milk. The minute she got back to her station she filled the slow cooker a fourth full of water, put in a can of condensed milk, and closed the lid after turning it on high. Next, she poured canola oil into the big fryer and started heating her oil. While it heated, she cored her apples and sliced them into quarter-inch rings leaving the skin on, and then made her batter. She had a batch fully coated and ready to drop by the time the oil was ready.
While the first round of apples fried, she moved to whip up a quick condensed milk ice cream. Easy and rich-tasting, it would pair perfectly with the apple rings and caramel sauce. She breathed a sigh of relief when the ice cream maker was churning away and the caramel was heating in the slow cooker. The ding sounding on the fryer meant it was time to pull out the first batch of rings. She dusted them with a powdered sugar and cinnamon mixture while they were still hot. After adding more battered rings to the fryer, she checked on the ice cream. Another six minutes and she could crank it out and stick it in the blast chiller to tighten up.
Glancing at the clock with what she thought was plenty of time, she nearly crapped her pants. Only ten minutes remained to plate and she hadn’t even pulled her caramel. Running around the kitchen at warp speed, she began to plate. Stacking rings in the center of a small white square dessert plate, she then cocked three rings on their sides around the stacked ones and placed a small scoop of ice cream in the center of each ring. Then she drizzled her half-made caramel sauce over the top of the entire thing. She finished just as chef called time. The sauce definitely needed more time, but it was condensed milk so it would taste decadent no matter what.
She carried three of her dessert plates over to the judges’ table where two others besides Byron would critique her execution. One of them was a forty-something man in chef’s whites, the other the lady she had video-chatted with and who had approved her application. What was her name? Mary? Myra? No, it was Mariah and she was a friendly sort, if not a little intimidating with her obvious sophistication and clout at the resort. But she smiled warmly, putting Kelsey more at ease as she began to describe how she had created her dish. But chef cut her off with a shake of his head.
“No need,” he said. “If you’ve done your job, we’ll be able to taste every subtle flavor and nuance.”
Nervously, she watched as they all picked up their spoons and started tasting.
Mariah spoke first. “I love this. It’s like a deconstructed apple pie and ice cream. Kind of like fair food brought to a higher standard.”
“The caramel needs work.” Byron’s stilted comment wiped the smile from her face.
“Well, I…” she stammered.
“I’m not interested in excuses. Excuses are like assholes, everyone has one,” he added, sounding extremely bored.
She wanted to mutter, you should know, but didn’t. Instead, she softly murmured, “Yes, chef,” before returning to her station.
How could he not have liked her dessert? She watched morosely as the rest of the contestants went up one by one. A boring chocolate mousse with salted caramel drizzle, an embarrassingly easy raspberry tart, a flopped soufflé—no points there—and finally, the only real challenge that she saw, a beautifully plated macaroon praline mandarin croustillant. Kelsey wasn’t certain what that even was, but if it tasted half as good as the presentation, its creator was safe. Sadly, it belonged to Heidi, who walked slowly past her on the way back to her station and smirked. She wanted to cry. Especially since he’d been nice to everyone, even the soufflé flopper, except her.
“Kelsey!” She jumped.
“Come!” Chef snapped.
She decided she was about to be gone so why hold back. “Arf! Arf!”
His already imperious-looking brow arched at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“Well, you were talking to me like I was your dog, so I figured you were looking for that sort of response,” she explained.
“I see,” he said with a little smile that for some reason caused her tummy to flip. “Pants and panties down. Corner now.”
“What? But I thought…”
“Move!” he ordered sharply and for the second day in a row, she shucked half her clothes and stowed them once more on the empty shelf under her station before running to the now familiar corner. They should name it Kelsey’s corner, she grumbled to herself as she stuck her nose in the exact same spot it had occupied the day before. Behind her, she heard him on the phone requesting a few things from the specialty gift shop she’d noticed the previous day and something else from the dungeon. She swallowed at the thought of what he could possibly want from the latter, then, convinced she was going home, assured herself that none of the strange things she couldn’t make sense of had anything to do with her.
Then he was off the phone and addressing the other contestants; she heard a wail behind her. It took everything in her power not to turn around. It was Heidi; Miss Fancy-Schmancy Mandarin Macaroon had just been eliminated. Guess her croustillant really blew! With a mental fist pump, she struggled to contain her glee.
She made a big production for several minutes as she reluctantly left, while the rest were set to cleaning again. Talking ceased behind her, the only noises those of washing dishes and clanging pots until someone delivered Byron’s requested items.
“Come here, Kelsey,” he called her from the corner. She turned with not a little trepidation and walked nervously to him, coming to an abrupt stop when she saw what he was holding. A little dog tail attached to something that looked like a large bullet. Surely he couldn’t mean to stick it up her ass, could he? Next to him was a small stool with a hole in the center.
“What’s that?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer.
“I decided since you are obviously going to be spending a lot of time in that corner, you needed a little bit of furniture.” He grinned and pressed a remote in his hand. With a whirring sound, a dildo rose slowly up through the hole then back down again. Her insides quivered; it was a fucking stool. “That little bonus is for another day, if you’re good. Or not.” He crooked his finger at her. “Today, my little doggie better get her ass in gear unless she wants more punishment than she’s already got coming.”
She moved as slowly as possible without earning more punishment. “I’m sorry I barked,” she blurted when she was in front of him.
“I’m sure you are. Too late, though,” he said with that same smile from earlier. “Get the stool and carry it to your corner, then I want you to bend over and brace your hands on top of it.”
She heard tittering behind her and almost bolted, but her odds were much improved with only herself and three of the other contestants left. Determined to be the last one standing at the end, Kelsey did exactly as he instructed although she wanted to die with embarrassment when she got into position. He could see everything from this angle, her bottom cheeks and all her bits in between them from her shy little asshole to her glistening wet lips.
She felt him before she heard him, the heat of his body rubbing against her as he steadied her with a hip and used one hand to spread her ass cheeks open. Then she felt the rounded tip of the silver butt plug pressed against her tender hole. “Ooh,” she gasped as it pushed relentlessly forward.
“Try to relax while you bear down, baby. It’ll be easier on you,” he told her gently.
As she pressed back, the plug suddenly slid home, filling her ass. She whimpered as her body stretched open accommodating the plug. When he seated it firmly, twisting it a little, the furry tail brushed her bottom with the slight movement.
“Stay in position. I’m about to make that little tail wag.” He showed her a long-handled rectangular Plexi cutting board. Then he moved it back out of sight and she heard a soft whooshing sound just before it connected sharply with her bottom. It was long enough that it caught both cheeks in the same swat. She felt the tail pressing into the small of her back with his hand and realized he’d lifted it out of the way.
Before she could completely register everything, another swat fell and then another, and an awesome sting filled her ass inside and out as each swat jolted the plug lodged within her. The paddle fell again and again until she couldn’t contain her cries and she knew she’d feel this spanking every time she sat the next day. He finished with a flurry of swats that left tears dripping down her cheeks, and when he released the tail, she was indeed wagging it in a futile effort to extinguish the fire in her ass.
Byron lifted her from her braced position over the stool and sat down on it, with the dildo in the recessed position, of course. He turned her body so that she straddled his thighs and cuddled her close, his big hands gliding low to cup her hot cheeks, and jiggling them a little, which caused the plug to shift again, sending a jolt of heat straight to her clit.
She whimpered again. “Please…”
“What do you need, little girl?” he asked against her ear, sending a shiver through her body.
“You,” was her breathless response, not caring at this point that they had an audience.
“Much as I’d like to, little kitten, that would hardly be fair to the other contestants.”
“But you can’t just leave me,” she protested. “I ache… I need. And it’s all your fault.” She writhed on his thigh, her face flushed with equal parts desire and bruised pride that she was begging for it so shamelessly, but it had been forever since she’d been so aroused by a man.
“I think it was the fault of that sassy mouth, actually,” he answered huskily. “But let me help you.”
Quickly, he drove two fingers deep into her weeping channel, his thumb finding her clit as he drove them in and out of her hard. Her inner muscles immediately clamped down on his fingers as if her body would keep him forever; then with a little cry of surprise she came harder than ever before in her life. But he didn’t let up, continuing to work his fingers in and out, sending her into another frenzy of need as he drove her swiftly up another peak and over the edge with a scream, the feel of his fingers inside her and the plug in her ass like nothing she’d ever known.
He held her briefly while she recovered, but too soon, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips, lifted her from his lap, and turned her back toward the kitchen with a swat to her tender ass. “Go clean up your station and get ready for the next challenge. You have an hour. No pants for the rest of the day and the tail stays in as a reminder to behave yourself.”
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