A splash of extra flavour

Madame Stanfield broke bread with her foe; a man she had already come to despise. Though, to be honest, she wasn't particularly fond of anyone she met… Anyone except her darling students. She couldn’t stand the spoiled, self-obsessed sycophants that were her 'equals'. Preening and probing at each other’s peacockery all day every day. Only her students ever seemed to understand the importance of duty, loyalty and devotion to one direction of being. Only they ever came close to meeting her hopes and expectations. That was the secret to why she threw herself so wholeheartedly into her work. Why she would risk all her wealth and stature to ensure that opportunity still lay before them. In truth, she almost envied their purity and sense of purpose.

Both her and Mr Carter were flanked by such a creature, the product of their own divided formula for creation. This particular restaurant specialised in delicacies that one’s trained companions could take an active role in. Each honoured guest had a bowl of finest caviar, a rare treat that had earned itself a newly traditional topping over the last century. Jesse felt the powerful woman shift the flap of his Chinese dress to one side and delicately take command of his genitalia between thumb and forefinger. The sissy knew very much what to expect, having participated in this very ritual before, with other clients. His tiny manhood sprang instantly to life at the lightest touch of his headmistress’s hand. If she needed something from him, his body obeyed; without a second's thought. With a soft sigh he sprang almost immediately to the point of climax, as if all along this was something his soul had waited for. The sensation of ejaculation was not one of great, built up release… but rather just the small, popping joy of service. Madame Stanfield received several satisfying, artful streaks of white across her serving dish and Jesse got to bask in both the warmth of a duty fulfilled... and the small, sordid knowledge that his mistress had deemed fit to consume a little of him on hard-baked bread and fish eggs.

The 'tradition' clearly had little to do with flavour. Dreamt up by bored Russian oligarchs as just yet another way of showing the degree of control they maintained over their playthings' every aspect. Symbolic theatrics to display what years of training could achieve. A statement along the lines of: 'Look how attentive I keep my household; such is also how I conduct my business' The headmistress of Stanfield’s academy had arranged the location of this meeting as carefully and pointedly as she ever did anything, and allowed the slightest of smiles to cross her lips. Her chosen companion had performed admirably, so early in his training and yet so promising. She’d known he was an asset to keep tabs on from the very first moment she'd met him.

Meanwhile, Beth was squirming in her skin. Stood beside her beloved master with the lights of the city glinting all around. Mr Carter had his hand upon her cock and was squeezing and massaging it steadily. Yet the blasted thing was barely more than half-mast! The sensations of him touching her most intimate of areas were sending shudders of pure joy up her spine… but they were curtailed by meeting the crushing feelings of embarrassment and inadequacy coming back the other way. Across the table, Jesse had performed so perfectly... as always. The shorter, prettier sissy showing her up as the awkward, out of place intruder she had always felt. She sometimes hated how kind and gentle and friendly her fellow classmate could always seem, succeeding so easily wherever she struggled. He was infuriatingly lovely and supportive, along with all the rest of their group. None of them willing to openly admit the truth that this situation brought to light so keenly. Her body just felt so wrong and confused, **** to fulfil its duty… but unable to find the right tools and pathways to do so. She adored Mr Carter. Could feel her heart thumping and soul melting at his touch. But still… her penis seemed to simply refuse to reflect that.

So several decade-long minutes of politely awkward silence began this meal between giants. Business was certainly not to be discussed until the entrees were eaten. Madame Stanfield delicately brought a portion of semen-topped fish-eggs to her ruby lips, offering a glance of carefully-crafted sympathy towards her struggling student. However, her opposite number gave no satisfying signs of frustration or shame. Derrick simply gave back one of those warm and charming smiles, taking a sip of champagne from one hand while he continued to masturbate his self-made prototype with the other. Until… finally… the poor thing bucked and shuddered into orgasm, half her ejaculate missing the bowl as she fell back from the clearly-**** effort.

Even that drew no comment or reaction. The man simply picked up his own slice of bread, dipped it in the slightly-sauced bowl… and took one large and exaggerated bite.