Yummy Tasty

Haz 19, 2024 // By:admin // No Comment

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Yummy Tasty

“Flavours are intense and sophisticated, elevated to something extraordinary,”

“Accomplished, sophisticated cooking presenting some stimulating flavour combinations. This is a chef who really understands how to get the best out of his ingredients and works with plenty of personality,”

“Bold flavours are superbly balanced,”

Just a few recent press clippings in the national papers about me. Film Stars and Premier League Football Players dine at ‘Richard and Blacks’ nightly, all guessing what the secret to my superior dishes might be. I never tell anyone how my three Michelin stars were won, but I’m going to tell you.

It’s local lad pee. I put it in every dish.

We’re always on the lookout for young men struggling to make their way, having left education at 18 with no qualifications and few prospects. We want to give them the chance to make a career in the high-end catering industry, and maybe even eventually to become a Chef. It’s a willing workforce, and a steady supply of that precious piss.

But you’d better believe that strictest discipline is the only way to achieve the exacting standards I (and my critics) expect. Most of these lads spent their school years larking about and making a total nuisance of themselves. My kitchen regime is always a shock.

New boys don’t get to wear trousers or pants. With their dicks and butts on show it lets them know where they stand in the hierarchy. They can earn the dignity of being properly dressed if they’re prepared to work for it. Of course they complain at first,

“Do you want this chance or not?” I bark at them.

They could walk out any time they like, but the thought of going home to tell their Mum they fucked this opportunity too usually sobers their ire. Soon they’ll be earning a decent wage, working in a respectable profession, and paying rent on a place of their own. The pros far outweigh any cons. And it never takes too long for them to get into it.

All senior Chefs have full license to strike their ass cheeks if they step out of line. No chatting back, no slacking off. My Sous Chefs remember when they were naked KPs and get as much spanking in as they can. Some of the fittest new boys get so much attention with wooden spoons and spatulas it makes your eyes water. So great to see all the slapped asses washing dishes or peeling spuds.

And I want them in the kitchen every night. No lame social lives, smoking spliffs with their idiot loser mates. They’re working in a top level restaurant now and they can take their commitment to it seriously. All or nothing.

Then comes the moment I ask a new lad for a steel jug of his hot piss. He never believes it at first.

“Why do you think I’ve been giving you beers all night?”

Always filling the pitcher so bashfully, watching speechless as I splash his golden liquor in the pot.

I’m explaining all this because I wanted to tell you about Craig. I totally bursa escort should have promoted him by now, but I just can’t bring myself to give him a place higher than kitchen porter. His piss is just too fucking good. I’ve never tasted anything like it. It’s phenomenal – deep and rich, heavy and ripe. I would never have got that third Michelin star without him. Sure I could make him Sous Chef and keep on rinsing his pee, but it’s just too good keeping him down.

Craig’s a typical likely-lad. I hired him on the spot, with his dimple face and cocky style. He’d only just moved to Bristol with his sweetheart girlfriend and their new baby. Fancy knocking girls up at his age! The responsibility of parenthood still hasn’t hit him, and he swaggers about like he’d make another dozen babies with any next fit lass that falls for his naughty smile. Everyone likes him wherever he goes.

He fit right in from day one, and didn’t show a stitch of shame about having his willy out. He knows how pretty his penis is. If you got it, flaunt it. He was getting slaps before even doing anything wrong, but always took it like a champ with cheeky bants.

Thing is though, I made the mistake of letting him know just how good he tastes. My special of the season was Criadillas (for those who don’t know, that’s Ox testicles), marinated overnight in Craig’s beery piss, breaded, and pan-fried to perfection. The dish got a gushing write up in the Independent.

Craig read what the newspapers were saying about his pee and got way too smug about it. Strikers in his football team were scoring goals after supping at our tables. Rappers on his Spotify playlist were tweeting about how good the food was at Richard and Blacks. I mean, any lad whose piss secretly becomes a National taste sensation would get ideas above his station. It was only natural, but my kitchen isn’t the Craig show.

“Wind your fucking neck in Craig, or I’ll have your testicles in the frying pan!” I spat, but he’d only grinned and made a joke of it,

“My balls would be the tastiest dish you ever made, Chef!”

Everyone laughed because they knew it was true. He needed taking down a peg or two.

“You’re getting way above your station lad, I got to lock you down…”

I called on the others to hold him steady while I fit a cage on his todger – a black Holy Trainer, nice and neat. He’d never seen anything like it before and totally freaked,

“What the fuck is this, get it off me!”

“No way, this is gonna teach you to simmer right down,”

And it did. For the first time Craig was dejected and sulky, blushing with humiliation and hiding in the foam at the pot wash.

The rest of us all thought it was great, but no one liked it more that Gavin, who had put up with a fair bit of bullying from Craig. They started work here much the same time, and went butt naked side by side in their kitchen chores. It was painfully obvious that poor Gavin had a crush bursa türbanlı escort on his buddy. Craig knew it and was mean.

Finally the scamp was getting his comeuppance. Gavin was beaming, darting sneaky glances at Craig’s chastened manhood all night. When time came to close down I made myself scarce. I left altogether with absolutely no intention of letting Craig out of his cage. I heard about what went down from my Sous the next day.

When Craig realised I’d scarpered with the key he begged anyone to help him get it off, but no one wanted to let him out. He tried picking the lock with various utensils, but I only buy the best. He just had to get dressed as the doors were being shut and take it home with him in his little pants.

His girlfriend Sally found it later. They were already bickering over his long hours at work, and stripes the on his ass. Her feelings of neglect were perfectly justified, Craig clearly doesn’t want the family life, but when she saw the cage she hit the roof.

Craig had to endure a womanish scolding that lasted hours. He looked pretty tired when he showed up to work the next night. Still I refused to let him out,

“You’re wasting salts when you dick around with these girls. You should keep it back for your pee. Even just 24 hours in that cage will have improved the flavour.”

A fat sticky drop of precum fell from his cage as I was talking. I made him try it, and he couldn’t deny it was pretty delicious. As I suspected, the thought of having even tastier piss was more attractive to the little troublemaker than appeasing his jilted girlfriend. He’s been wearing it ever since.

I let him out weekly to wash properly. Of course he quickly knocks one out in the gents before I can get it back on him, but I let it slide.

In the meantime I graduated Gavin to trainee chef. Meant he got to wear his trousers, and handle basic cooking chores. No more pot washing. I put him on tenderising duty, pounding all those Ox bollocks to get them nice and soft. Craig was incensed,

“Why are you letting stupid Gavin do it? I can thump better than that!”

He could thump better, but this sweet indignation was too good to pass up on. In the kitchen hierarchy, Gavin now had the right to spank on Craig’s ass, and it was the first time the young stud really felt the sting. Watching Craig sulk was so much better than watching him swagger.

Anyway, this is the bit I’ve been meaning to get to. My Maitre d’ informed me we had a booking for Dani Mabaso (yeah, the Dani Mabaso). His last album was fucking awesome, we had it on in the kitchen at least once a night for a year. This was the most high profile guest the restaurant ever had. I needed the best from everyone, especially Craig.

Since locking him up his piss had never tasted better, but I knew we could take it higher for Mabaso, who Craig idolised. He was a super-fan.

The Lads helped me strap kestel escort Craig’s wrist to a pipe above his head with shrink wrap. It’s amazing how strong shrink wrap ropes can be when you double them up. Once he was nice and secure I threw Gavin a wooden spoon and told him to get to work tenderising the boy’s balls.

“The pain’s gonna take your taste to the next level son, trust me,” I nodded along with his protestations, “We’ll stop if your dick goes soft, how about that?”

I’d already removed his cage, and his his boner looked good to burst.

Gavin gave Craig a tentative pat, making him jump.

“Do it properly Gavin, mate. Sally doesn’t need his balls anymore, he’s already done his bit and put a bun in her oven.”

The chav tried again dealing him a sturdy clop with the spoon and winning an agonised groan from his former bully. Craig’s erection didn’t go down so Gavin kept on, slow and even, his eyes bright with lusty revenge.

While we were busy, guests were taking their tables out front and the Maitre d’ sent me word that Mabaso had asked to see the Chef. I checked my reflection and went into the dinning hall. Mabaso was seated like a King with his entourage of homies and glamorous women. He wore his wealth, looking real sharp. Fresh trainers alone must have cost thousands.

He shook my hand and asked a couple of surprisingly insightful questions about food. Didn’t know he was an aspiring Gourmand. But I had heard enough about Mabaso from industry insiders about his perversions. He was into some kinky shit. I decided to invite him back into the kitchen to see for himself.

“If you can promise to keep the secret, I’ll show you…”

He followed.

The sight of a sexy lad strung up with his nuts on trial was probably the last thing he was expecting to find, but he was right onboard with it at once.

“Yes, bruv!” He roared with laughter “Am I having his Criadillas?”

“You can tap the juice out of them if you like,” I chuckled.

And without missing a beat he snatched Gavin’s spoon and struck up a rapid volley of well practiced spanks.

“Fuck! Ahh!” Craig writhed, going red in the face.

“Come on buoy, I ain’t stopping till you shoot!”

“Wha!?” Craig was gasping under this relentless attack.

I’d never actually seen anyone cum from a bollock spanking before, but Mabaso looked like he knew what he was doing.

I guess Craig really did like Dany Mabaso, because his proud shaft was soon throbbing to a climax. It blasted forth, wet and juicy.

Mabaso picked up Craig’s phone and took selfies with the exhausted boy, still swinging by his wrists, tears of prostration on his hot cheeks. The Rap Star grinned as he snapped.

I told him we’d be dripping the lad’s pee into his food and he liked it.

“Cook me up something real special, yeah?” he smirked, slapping Craig affectionately in the face before returning to his table.

“How about that, Craigy boy?” I raised my brows at him.

“He’s such a fucking G!” he panted into his elbow.

I swear, if anyone’s proved themselves it’s Craig. I should probably graduate the poor fucker by now? Give him some trousers and let his poor dick out? What do you think?

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