Sam's Saga 06: Samta Clause

She noticed Lucy hesitating briefly, giving her an inquisitive look as if to say "is this okay?" Sam nodded, hoping it was subtle enough to go unnoticed in the video but knowing that the camera was unlikely to be focused on anything above her waist.

'Wow,' Lucy said after the briefest of pauses. 'And I thought your tits were a big target. Look at the size of that thing.'

Sam hated what was happening almost exactly as much as she loved the way it made her feel. Lucy stepped alongside her, hands back on her shoulders, and gently forced Sam to lean forward by a few degrees - enough to make her sauce-soaked bum stick out even more. The well-aimed slap that followed, deliberately hitting the bulge of apple sauce in Sam's knickers, was predictable, but it still elicited a legitimate squeal from Sam. She couldn't help it. Her body reacted to having cold, slimy goo squelched around some of its most sensitive parts without any input from her brain.

She wondered if Lucy was going to make matters even more uncomfortable, even more unbearably arousing, by spreading the sauce around more deliberately. A rapidly growing part of Sam's brain - a part that was already starting to make parts of her body throb and tingle - hoped that she would. A more socially aware part of her prayed that she wouldn't, knowing it wouldn't take much to turn her from posing vulnerably to slumping exhaustedly.

Vulnerable was exactly the right word for how Sam was feeling. She was putting all her trust in Lucy and, to a lesser extent, Henry. The blonde woman had free reign, within reason, to treat Sam however she wanted to. She could tease and torment her, use her susceptibility against her, or she could be business-like about things and keep the humiliation to the prerequisite minimum. Hell, Sam couldn't even use her own hands to defend herself for the time being - she had committed to keeping her makeshift bra in place, even with her back to camera.

Still, she did find comfort in one thing. Sam didn't know Lucy all that well, but the fact that she had sort of asked for Sam's blessing had to be a good sign: she's not just going to go all out without my permission, Sam told herself, but she does want to make this as intense as reasonably possible. Again, though, that other part of her brain was trying to cut in and say 'fuck reasonable, wouldn't it feel good if she just...'

'Not much left for the main course, I'm afraid,' Lucy said, apparently satisfied with how her slaps had spread the apple sauce. 'Although we are making quite a lot of leftovers.' Sam didn't immediately understand. She glanced up at Lucy to see what she was getting at, and then followed her gaze down to an unpleasant looking puddle of multi-coloured slop at her feet. Oh, no, she thought. That is going to be fun.

'We'll come back to that, though. Time for dessert. I don't know about you, but I love dessert. Christmas pudding is so-so, but trifle? Mmm!'

Lucy showed Sam a large bowl full of trifle. It looked poorly made, sloppy and with ill-defined layers. The custard, jelly and cream looked as if they had been dumped carelessly into a bowl. Probably because they had been, she reasoned.

'I'm afraid I forgot to bring a spoon,' Lucy went on. 'Or any smaller bowls. Still, I know you don't want to waste it. You've already been so naughty already, you don't want to make matters worse by putting my hard work to waste, do you?'

'No,' Sam replied. She wasn't exactly playing along. It was more like she didn't know what else to say in her current daze.

'Good girl. Now turn back around. Put that wobbly old bum away for a minute.'

Sam turned back to the camera and found that Lucy had put the trifle bowl on the floor in front of her. She didn't need to be told to kneel. She had seen enough WAM videos by now to know where this was heading, but she waited anyway. Sure enough, Lucy ordered her to her knees a moment later and Sam, doing her best impression of resignation and dejectedness, lowered herself on hands and knees into the multi-textured slop.

Several things happened at roughly the same time. The bowls that had been covering her chest fell to the floor, revealing her tits in all their slimy glory. The apple sauce in her knickers oozed downwards, which, in this new position, meant it was squished between her pussy and the front of her knickers. This sent a shiver up her spine, making her tits jiggle - a fact that she was sure would not go unnoticed by the ever-vigilant Henry. Gravity made sure that some of the earlier gunk dislodged from her face and chest, but it made little difference: Sam was a complete mess, and about to get worse.

'No need to be polite,' Lucy said. 'Tuck in.'

Sam had been expecting Lucy to force her face into the bowl. She wasn't sure if this turn of events - having to dunk herself - was better or worse. She would have control over how fast and how deep she went under, but doing as she was told would make her look even more absurd, wouldn't it? She tried to think like a punter. What would she like to see if she was sat with her laptop at home, hand in her knickers?

Oh, yeah. It's not a choice at all, she realised. As she lowered her face hesitantly into the creamy surface, she knew that Lucy's hand would have a hold of her hair in no time. In the event, she was half-right. Her nose was fully submerged and her face was just breaking the surface when she felt the point of Lucy's heel on the back of her head, followed by the full weight of her foot. Sam was helpless against it. Her neck was nowhere near as strong as Lucy's leg, and she was forced all the way to the bottom of the huge trifle bowl.

She couldn't breathe, daren't open her eyes, and had narrowly managed to close her mouth before it had gotten too full. It was all she could do not to panic, reassuring herself that, as unpleasant as this was, it was all an act. She put her hands on the side of the bowl, squirmed and wriggled, but for the most part she just let it happen. The pressure on her head let up after a few moments, and Sam came up gasping, sucking in oxygen like it was going out of fashion. Cream, custard and mushed-up jelly cascaded down from her face, coating her naked breasts and soaking her dress completely. At least there was no sherry in it.

If Sam had been a state before that dunking, she was an absolute disgrace now. Her face was unrecognisable under the so-called trifle. Her normally black hair, now matted to her head, had turned various shades of creamy yellow. Her breasts, still hanging almost comically over the top of her dress were coated in the same sludge as the rest of her upper half but her nipples jutted out extremely clearly.

'Is it cold in here?' Lucy asked sarcastically. 'I hadn't noticed, but...' She paused, presumably so Henry could zoom in for a moment and then grabbed Sam's hair as she had been expecting her to do all along. It wasn't a painful grip, but firm enough. She wasn't trying to hurt Sam, but wanted to make it look believable. All Sam really had to do was not resist, and her face was under the trifle again. She had time to take a deep breath and prepare as best she could, but the fact remained that being dunked in a bowl full of ruined trifle was unbelievably messy. Being somewhat forced under again took her breath away, literally and figuratively. Her pulse was pounding in her ears and her clitoris was throbbing between her legs.

By the time Lucy pulled her out again, breathing hard and dripping slime all over the place, Sam was struggling to maintain the façade of just playing along. She was breathless, and not just from the fact that she had been unable to breathe for several seconds. Being treated like this, allowing herself to be debased in such a way had left her aching for closure. She longed for Lucy to slip a hand between her thighs while she was bent over the trifle bowl and make her cum like a messy little fuck pig.

There was no mess left now, though. The fun was over, wasn't it? She would end the shoot temporarily frustrated, but with something to go home and remember very vividly - and probably more than once.

Well, it was almost over. Looking down, Sam realised there was actually quite a lot of mess, still. It just wasn't in jugs, jars or bowls any more.

Lucy had noticed too. 'Seems a shame to waste it, don't you think?'

Sam couldn't have agreed more, but reminded herself that she was supposed to be playing a role. 'Oh, no,' she protested unconvincingly. 'You're not going to make me get messy with that are you?'

'Make you? No, no, no. You're going to do it yourself.'

'W-what?' Sam asked stupidly, genuinely surprised. She looked up at Lucy for a clue, and saw a wicked twinkle in the other woman's eye. She was presenting Sam with an opportunity, opening a door to depravity and letting Sam crawl right through it. Exactly what waited on the other side would be up to Sam, but she would only find out on Lucy's terms. And the whole ordeal would be caught on camera, of course.

Hesitating a moment, Sam tried to tell herself that she could keep up the act. She could roll around in the puddle of leftovers, pretend to be playing along, and eventually get cleaned up and go home. She could deal with her urges there, in private.

She almost believed it, right up until she took one last look at Lucy. Towering over her, Lucy's smile seemed to say 'I know you're going to do this, you dirty, dirty girl. So stop pretending.'

The hesitation died instantly. Sam lowered herself from her hands and knees till she was flat on her front in horrid puddle. Thick, multi-textured, multi-coloured slime invaded her dress. It soaked slowly through the fabric, trapped between the floor and Sam's beautiful beige skin. It oozed into her cleavage through the more than sizeable gap of a neckline. It soaked through her flimsy stockings in no time. To put it bluntly, Sam was soaked to the bones in mixed foodstuffs. Only her back and face had survived the shallow bath.

She would soon remedy that.

She had kept her face an inch or so above the slime till now, arching her neck upward in an uncomfortable bid to keep her face clean. Now, though, the urge to totally lose herself to the animal within was overwhelming. She untightened her neck muscles and let her face fall into the puddle. It wasn't fast enough to make a wave, or even a splash, but there must have been something amusing about the way her face went under the half-inch of slime, because it got a giggle out of Lucy.

A second later, Sam felt the other woman's foot on the back of her head again, pushing her face around like a makeshift mop. Sam already had her eyes closed, but the slop got everywhere: in her nose, mouth, all over her face and hair. She was ruined, humiliated, and loving every second of it. She wanted Lucy's foot to get off her head, but only so she could turn over and ruin the back too.

It didn't take long for her to get her wish. Lucy gave Sam's face a few more coatings, mopping up a few more dregs with her now-destroyed hair, then stopped. Sam didn't wait for another witty remark. She rolled over in the slop, doing her best to wriggle her legs and spread the gunk around them, before landing heavily and deliberately on her soft, round bum. This time there was a clearly audible squelch. It seemed to match Sam's mood perfectly: this is definitely happening and I fucking love it. The squelch was a full stop that separated what had happened from what was about to happen.

She didn't need Lucy's help any more, although she might have welcomed it if it had been offered. Instead, laying on her back in the puddle, feeling the now familiar sensation of mixed slime soaking through her clothing, she snaked her right hand under her dress and inside her drenched knickers. She heard a gasp of surprise from Henry, but noted that it was not followed by any suggestion that she should stop. She didn't dare look at Lucy. Not now.

Her fingers got to work quickly, running easy circles around her clitoris. The slime would have made it easy enough anyway, but there was plenty of her own natural lubricant down there just in case. She worked quickly because a small part of her brain still couldn't quite believe she was going through with this - masturbating in a puddle of spent food while two semi-strangers watch and film it. She kept expecting it to override her urges and instincts, but that part of her brain seemed to become quieter and quieter as her moans and groans got louder and louder.

While her right hand did its job, she scooped up slop from the floor with her left and smeared it all down her front. She rubbed slime into her tits, poured more of the randomised sludge into her cleavage and made it fountain out again by squeezing the whole lot together. As her body started to tense up in anticipation, she started to rub the leftovers into her face and hair, her mouth wide open constantly now as the moaning and panting came faster and faster.

'Oh, fuck,' she yelled breathily, ecstasy washing over her slime-soaked body. She kept rubbing herself right through it, enjoying the tactile feeling of lumpy goo all over her body. It felt good to let herself go like this, to do what she knew she wasn't supposed to do. It felt good to destroy her clothing, her makeup and her decency. Most of all it felt good to do all of this in front of an audience, doubling the sense of catharsis. It felt good.

'Sam. Wow.' It was Lucy, bringing Sam back to a slightly hazy reality. 'That wasn't part of the script.'

'Yeah, uh. I got a bit carried away.'

'No shit,' Lucy laughed.

Henry appeared then, but wasn't sure where to look. It wasn't as if Sam was even naked - she had on exactly the same clothing as she had done when filming had started. But it's hard to look someone in the eye after they've just had an impromptu masturbation session in front of you.

'I guess we can talk about where to end the movie after you've showered,' he said with uncharacteristic shyness. 'You know where to go, yeah?'

'Right. Thanks.' Sam had passed shy several cycles of hand movement ago and had come out the other side, but she was too high on endorphins to answer sensibly. She pulled herself out of the puddle with a sucking noise, foodstuff running down her dress. A soft patter of slop followed her into the shower. Henry had done his best to cover the floor in plastic sheets, but Sam's dress was saturated and there was no way she could make it to the shower without leaving a trail.

Unless...

With a mental shrug, she lifted her arms and pulled the dress over her head. It soaked her face and hair yet again, but they were already such a mess that it made no difference. She flung it over her shoulder, but not too hard, and strutted slowly towards the changing room. She knew both Lucy and Henry would be gawking at her, so why not let them enjoy it. After all, near strangers seeing her near naked body was nothing compared to what she had just shown them. The way Sam felt after her performance, even her arse - her psychological Achilles heel - was nothing to be ashamed of.

A playful wolf whistle from Lucy followed her through the changing room door and Sam replied with a thrust of her hips to one side, shaking her bum. Even for Sam, who considered herself an open minded woman, the whole experience had been liberating. Ending things with a final 'fuck you' to shame seemed appropriate.