Yvette Ishikawa had made it to the finals in the Astounding Dishes competition. All the prepping was done and the ingredients were within easy reach at her cooking station - she started with the dough. The flour was already in a glass bowl so she stirred in the required amount of yeast. She poured some hot water into a measuring cup and checked its temperature. It was a couple of degrees too hot so she trickled in some cold water. When it reached the desired temperature, there was a bit too much so she spilled some into the sink and poured the rest of it into the bowl. She threw in a pinch of salt and took the melted butter out of the microwave. That went in as well. She picked up the hand held mixer and mixed the ingredients for a couple of minutes. She could almost hear Argi guiding her:
“Don’t spend too much time with the mixer. The main secret to excellent dough lies in the kneading.”
It had taken an entire weak for her to master the proper kneading technique. On the seventh day of dough preparation instruction, she told him that she had entered the Astounding Dishes competition.
“How important is winning for you?” he asked her.
“I really want to be a chef. This is a competition for cooks with imagination as well as cooking ability. Winning this, would put me in the front line of influential up and coming chefs. It would change my life totally.”
“Would you do anything it takes?”
“Yes chef, anything.”
“O.K. then, before you put on your apron, take off your blouse.”
Seeing her hesitation, Argi went on:
“Didn’t you just say yes chef, anything?”
Argi Arista was one of the leading chefs in the Caribbean. Though of Basque origin, he had been living in that area for almost 40 years. He had skipped from island to island before opening his own world famous restaurant in the Bahamas. His Nassau place was patronized by all the billionaires who had their summer residences on the island. Though pushing sixty he was actually in a very good shape and quite attractive.
‘What the Hell, if I have to fuck him to win, it would be totally worth it’ thought Yvette while unbuttoning her blouse.
“The bra as well Yvette.”
She took that off revealing her beautiful tits. Yvette was one of those amazing beauties created by the natural selection process. Her maternal ancestors were of mixed Arawak, Spanish, French, Indonesian, African and probably some other races.
Her father was fully Japanese and he had given her the slight epicanthic fold of his people as well as the amazing Japanese hair texture. Add to that the green color of her eyes and yeah, she was an astounding dish herself.
She threw a fistful of flour on the counter and spread it around with the palm of her hand. Taking the mixture out of the glass bowl she started using her hands to put it together. Pretty soon she had it to the point where she could knead it together, just the way Argi had taught her.
As she started kneading, she could feel him coming up real close behind her. He embraced her and his hands grabbed the tits awaiting behind the little apron.
“I want you to feel the way I am kneading your tits and apply the same passion to the dough.”
The memory of his hands on her tits was quite arousing. She kneaded that dough remembering how her nipples had responded to his touch, stiffening up. She thought that she could feel a similar response in the dough. ‘Quite ridiculous’ she thought, but the sensations would not go away. She dug her fist into the dough, remembering the pain of his fist when he had done the same to her right tit. She had cried out in pain and tried to pull his hands off her tits, but he would not be moved.
“Remember, yes chef, anything!”
She had endured the pain and it did not take too long before they both went back to kneading. She felt the arousal between her legs, just the way she did back then and she could feel her face flushing at that thought. ‘I wonder if the judges can see my condition and will it influence their decision’ she thought. She gave her dough a few resounding slaps, the way he had done to her tits. It had come as a total surprise, when he’d cut off the top of her apron making it drop forward to expose her tits more thoroughly. He had then proceeded to slap them one at a time and again she tried to hold his hands and make him stop.
“Yvette, just do the same to the dough” he admonished.
She slapped the dough on the table a few times, again wondering about the judges’ thoughts. This step was finished. She needed to let the dough rest and rise just the way Argi’s cock had risen. She remembered the feel of it pushing against her ass.
“You did well” he told her “we will get to the next stage tomorrow. I do however have another problem, as you have certainly noticed. Sadly, I cannot have intercourse with you. If you are to win the competition, I will have to save that for later. I do however need some kind of release” he said while turning her around.
“Your tits are a wonder of nature” he added and he kissed them and sucked on her nipples briefly.
She didn’t say a word as he kissed her lips passionately. He took her right hand and guided it to his cock - it had miraculously unzipped his pants and come out for fresh air.
“And here it is! The root of my current conundrum. Could you possibly find the mercy in your heart that will allow you to place your lips around it?”
She would have so fucked him that time, but he was the chef, she needed to listen to his teachings. Well, if she couldn’t have his cock in her cunt, she would certainly put it in her mouth. She sucked his cock with a passion and it didn’t take long before he painted her face with that gooey stuff. She excused herself and went to the bathroom to wash off. But of course she did a lot more than that so when she came back he said:
“I was thinking about helping you with that, but considering the amount of time you’ve spent in the bathroom, I guess there is no need.”
She snapped back to the present, set the dough aside and covered it with a dish towel before proceeding to the next step.
The goal of the competition being to astound the judges, the contestants were of course given free hand. Yvette had opted for a variation on a seven course meal. Her version of the classic meal was as follows:
Gyoza / Pierogi Pot Stickers
Green Mango Chow
3 Palate cleanser :
4 Entrée :
Braised Lamb Shank
5 After Dinner:
Chocolate-Peppermint Truffle with Lavender / Habanera Jam
The recipes were actually quite simple, but with her own personal touches. In the pot stickers, for example, she had replaced the pork with lamb and added some minced arugula. Finely monced arugula was also used as a garnish for the saoto soup as well as the lamb shank. Most people are not aware of the aphrodisiacal qualities of this delicious herb, but Argi had made sure to teach her that trick. The kitchen she was cooking in was fully equipped with anything a chef might imagine and the pantry was equally impressive. There was however no galangal so she was glad that she had brought her own. Without galangal, the saoto soup would be just another chicken soup. There was one other secret ingredient that she always carried with her and was going use at the appropriate moment.
One other thing that she had brought with her was a 10” windows tablet. Remembering the ingredients was not difficult, but she needed to choreograph everything precisely. Her entire menu needed to be ready in two hours. Unlike other competitions, her meal was to be served sequentially and uninterrupted as it would be in an actual dining situation.
She diced her potatoes, carrots and bell peppers, after which she chopped the onions, celery, parsley and habanera peppers. Crushing the garlic was next. She had all the components for a marinade ready, so she mixed them in a bowl and placed the octopus in it.
Cooking everything on the stove top is always the recommended method, but she did not have enough time for that, so she needed to cheat a little. She put the necessary saoto soup ingredients in a glass bowl and placed that in the microwave for ten minutes. Just enough time to prepare the lavender jam. She finished the jam and placed it in the refrigerator. The next step was browning the lamb shanks and placing them in another bowl with the appropriate ingredients. That bowl replaced the soup bowl in the microwave. The soup went into a pot and on the stove where it would simmer for the next hour. She needed some minced herbs for her next step so she took her precious knife out of its holster and got to work. She had learned that dicing and slicing were mundane tasks, but mincing was an entirely different kind of task. Argi had impressed that on her and they had spent almost two weeks on helping her develop the correct technique and speed.
She’d been doing nothing but mincing herbs for more than a week and she was starting to despair a little. She wanted to start cooking already but he would not let her. She was also hoping that they would have sex once in a while, but he never brought that up and she was too proud to beg.
“I don’t think that I will ever be able to please you. Can we just skip it and go to the next step? I can always use a chopper to do this.”
“Anyone can cook. You google the recipe, slap the ingredients together and cook or bake them as necessary. This is where the line between a cook and a chef is drawn – in the preparation. Preparation technique is the secret ingredient that pedestrian cooks do not possess. That and extreme attention to the ingredients is what sets us apart. You will learn how to mince herbs properly and I will use the most extreme measures to teach you. Take off your panties!”
She did as she was told and he continued:
“Now, roll up that cilantro the way I thought you and start mincing.”
She did as she was told and he came and stood behind her.
“Keep mincing” he ordered.
She could feel two of his fingers entering her cunt.
“This is what we are going to do. I will move my fingers in and out of your cunt. Slowly at first and then, faster and faster and faster as we go along. Imagine that your knife hand is connected to your cunt and the movement of my fingers in and out, is controlling the movement of your knife holding hand, up and down, mincing the cilantro.”
His fingers inside her cunt felt real good, so she stopped chopping for a moment just enjoying that sensation. He took them out and landed a smarting slap to her right ass cheek.
“Oww!” she complained.
“This is unacceptable, drop the knife” he said grabbing her hand. He pulled her over to a kitchen chair and after sitting down, forced her to bend over his knee.
“You need to listen. I will make a chef out of you, no matter what” he said, punctuating every word with a solid sounding slap on her ass.
“Ouch, ouch, ouch” she cried “why are you doing this to me? I thought you liked me.”
“I like you a lot and your ass is first quality, which is why I am doing this. I enjoy doing this, but I also want you to learn the lesson” he said once again punctuating his words with heavy slaps “now keep quiet and think about mincing.”
His slaps were coming down without pause alternating between her cheeks. He went on like that for five minutes at which point he started kneading her tender cheeks causing her to moan in pain. Without any warning, he stuck two of his fingers into her cunt again and started moving them in and out picking up the rhythm gradually.
“This is how the rhythm of your mincing should proceed.”
His fingers sped up going in and out faster and faster. His pointer and his pinky kept rubbing against her clitoris and urethra ruthlessly and the sensations going through her kept intensifying until she could not help it and she had a gushingly wet orgasm.
“Get a mop from the bathroom and clean this up” he commanded.
She did as told and he directed her back to the chopping board.
“Mince!” he said “and remember this: anyone can use a chopper, but the art of wielding a chef’s knife is one of the main components of being a chef. If you use a chopper, you will very likely lose that competition.”
She did as told one more time while he came and inserted his fingers into her yet once again. He kept at it until the cilantro was totally minced, speeding up gradually and causing her to have a second orgasm, though this one was not as squirty.
That mincing lesson had been learned properly. It took her practically no time at all to fill a couple of bowls with minced dill and arugula. Next, she took the lamb shank out of the microwave and placed it in the oven. And now, the time was right to take out the dough and submit it to the spreading process. She drizzled some flour on the counter top once again and applied the rolling pin until the dough was thin enough. With a cookie cutter, she cut circles into the dough ending up with a bunch of pieces just perfect for her pot stickers. Neither the gyoza nor the pierogi call for leavened dough, but she wanted her dish to be somewhere between those two and the Russian piroshky. She mixed her chopped lamb with the shredded cabbage and the other ingredients, pinched them shut, brushed them with egg wash and placed them in the oven.
The next few steps were quite mundane and they included preparing the chocolate-peppermint balls and placing them in the fridge, pureeing the mango-pineapple (form a can) with the syrup, putting that in an ice-cream maker and slicing the green mango. There was also a bit of work that involved removing cucumber seeds and preparing the tzatziki. Everything was coming together so she placed the octopus on the grill and got to work on the chow. It was the last lesson that Argi had given her.
“Please take off all your clothes” he said when she came for that last lesson.
“This is going to be a kind of special go away gift. You should also use it in the competition. Try to time it so that it will take place as close to the tasting as possible. I would suggest that you prepare a chow as part of your presentation, but anything that would use a mortar and pestle would work just as well. For a chow, you put minced shado beni, crushed garlic, diced habanera pepper, lime juice and salt into the mortar and grind it to a fine texture with the pestle.”
She stripped without hesitation and tied the apron around her waist.
“Good” he said “I’m glad you remembered that no matter what happens you’re first and foremost a chef. I will however prefer that you take it off, just this one time.”
She took off the apron and stepped up to the cooking platform. The mortar and pestle were waiting for her patiently on the counter together with the correct amounts of ingredients. She placed them into the mortar and picking up the pestle she started smashing them gently.
“Not bad” said Argi “this is not strictly necessary, for you to learn how to use a mortar and pestle. It will however make a difference in your presentation. In order to achieve that goal, I need to be deep inside you. I think that you are ready for that, but still, I would like to ask your permission. May I penetrate you Yvette?”
“Absolutely! I thought you’ll never ask.”
He came up behind her and placed his right hand between her lags.
“Good, you are ready for me” he said while proceeding to penetrate her.
She imagined that she was the mortar and he was the pestle communicating his thrusting motions to the pestle in her hand. His up and down thrusts were making her tits move with that rhythm and he grabbed them without stopping their rhythm.
“Use the mortar and pestle to mesmerize the judges. I want you to remember me inside you and move just like that when you prepare that part of your spread. Up and down, and up and down and up and down and don’t forget to move your ass to that beat.”
It took a little longer, but they both came almost simultaneously.
That was just about it. Checking on her various dishes and spot tasting them, she decided that everything was cooked to her satisfaction. There were ten minutes left and she used the time for presentation preparation. She needed to prepare three servings of each plate, one for each of the judges. First she dished out the chow. There was no special way to arrange the sliced mango, so she just let it fall whichever way. For the next dish, she sliced a gyoza about three quarters through and propped the larger part over the smaller one. The sliced section looked vaguely vaginal which was exactly what she was aiming for. Next came the char grilled octopus. She sliced a three inch tentacle piece for each plate and placed the tzatziki very suggestively, insinuating that it was coming out of the tentacle. It looked a lot like semen coming out of a black cock. The saoto soup went into three little bowls and onto the hot plate. The string French fries and fried noodles went into bowls as well and would be folded into the soup just before serving. The pineapple sorbet went into three ice-cream goblets and into a cold bath filled with ice cubes. A slice of ripe yellow mango decorated each serving. She placed a lamb shank on each of three flat plates and poured one ladle of the vegetables on top. The saoto soups and the lamb shanks got a sprinkling of minced dill and arugula. She looked the ingredients over once more and couldn’t help feeling that something was wrong. She went to her tablet and started double checking everything. When she got to the saoto soup she looked over her bowls:
Broth – check.
Fried noodles – check
Fried string potatoes – check.
Bean sprouts – check
Hard boiled eggs - ?
She didn’t know if the judges were familiar with saoto soup, but she didn’t want to take any chances. There were fifteen minutes left until the presentation anyway, so she put some water with three eggs in a little pot and set it on the stove on a high flame. Hard boiled eggs usually need 10-12 minutes in hot water (after boiling) but after the water boiled, she left the pot simmering on the stove hoping that the additional heat will cut down on the cooking time.
The truffles came out of the refrigerator and took their place on three little dessert plates next to an arching streak of lavender-habanera jam. She looked everything over once more and rearranged the lamb shanks a bit, to make them look symmetrical on all three plates. It was almost time, so she took the pot with the eggs off the stove and ran some cold water over it. She peeled the eggs and dropped them into the three soup bowls – one in each.
There was one more thing that she wanted to do. It was not something that Argi had thought her, but all of the sexual connections that Argi kept including into his lessons, had made her decide that it was the right thing to do. The timing device reached the end of their allotted cooking and struck a loud and long gong-like sound.
“Time’s up” said Juliette, the leading judge “get ready to present your dishes.”
It was of course a TV show, so they had a commercial break.
“I am a little bit nervous” said Yvette “can I please use the toilet quickly?
“O.K. just don’t take too long” answered Juliette.
Yvette hurried to the toilet. This is how she actually intended to cheat. Technically, it was not really cheating; she just wanted to keep the secret of her most important ingredient to herself and besides, it couldn’t be made public anyway. In her apron pocket, she had previously placed four of her chocolate-peppermint truffles. She stepped into a stall, pulled down her panties and proceeded to shove the truffle balls into her cunt. They only needed a very brief stay inside her so as soon as the last one went in, she pushed them out again and placed them back in her apron pocket. Those Kegels were certainly paying off. She ran back to her station just in time to catch the end of the last commercial.
“Lionel, please come forth with your presentation” said Juliette
“Thank you chef” answered Lionel “I have prepared for you a spring salad, a traditional Romanian sour soup called Ciorbă de Perișoare, a Polish Hunter’s Stew (Bigos) and a Gascon Ganache.”
Lionel proceeded to serve each of the judges and as they were going through his dishes, they appeared quite impressed. Yvette was worried for a few minutes but she told herself that there was nothing like her truffles anywhere else in the world. The rest of her dishes were very good, but the truffles were like nothing else. Besides Juliette, there two other judges: Jorge and Sasha, both male. Not that the truffles were male oriented, it’s just the way things were. In any case, she trusted her own instincts.
They broke for a commercial once again before Juliette called on her.
“Yvette, please come forth and present your dishes.”
“Chefs, I have prepared for you a modified seven course meal” she said.
“There are three appetizers.
A Japanese / Polish Pot Sticker.
A Greek Style Grilled Octopus.
A Trini Mango Chow.”
The judges sampled the dishes and she could tell that they were quite impressed.
“My next dish is a Surinamese / Javanese saoto soup. There are three ingredients that need to be folded in just before serving in order to preserve their crispiness. So please add some fried noodles, fried string fries and bean sprouts, before tasting.”
The judges complied, and they seemed to like that as well, but she thought that maybe the Romanian sour soup was a bit more astounding.
“A mango-pineapple sorbet, to cleanse your palates”.
The judges were concentrating on their sorbets, so she used that distraction to quickly replace the truffle balls on the serving plates with the ones in her apron pocket.
“My next dish is a braised lamb shank with non-traditional herbs.”
Once again it looked like the judges liked her dish, but did they like it enough?
“My last dish is a peppermint-chocolate truffle with a lavender-habanera jam.”
She had definitely made the right decision with this one. It was just one little bite, but the judges got a glazed kind of look in their eyes and stayed still for a minute. Yvette looked over at Lionel and he looked back at her shrugging his shoulders.
“Wow” said Juliette “what the heck was that?”
“It’s got a secret ingredient” replied Yvette “that I do not intend to disclose”
There was no doubt that she had won. The show ended and they all went back to their dressing rooms. Lionel knocked politely on Yvette’s door and she told him he can come in.
“I am not going to tell you what the secret ingredient is, if that’s why you are here.”
“I was just going to congratulate you” he replied.
“Thank you! I have saved a last truffle for you” she said and handed him one.
He chewed briefly and swallowed it. She could see the flaming desire build up in his eyes.
“I have to go” he said.
“No, you do not. I know what your intentions might be and I would love to participate in their fulfillment.”
It took him a minute to struggle with some normally accepted tenets, but my pussy dipped chocolate truffle eventually won the fight.
“I am going to make a total fool of myself” he said while dropping his pants. “If I am wrong you may call the police and get me arrested.”
“You are not wrong” she said “you also have a cock, which is something that I could really use just about now.”
© 2015 Ernest Samuel Llime All Rights Reserved.
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