Pizza Punishment
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Pizza is my most reliable pleasure. I never get tired of looking down onto a restaurant table and finding a lovely circle of hot and untouched slices; its outer edge warm and crusty and the selection of appetizing vegetables just hidden under their mouth-watering layer of melted mozzarella. The only thing about pizza that I don’t like is “pizza protocol”; the rules and regulations that have to be followed when sharing a pizza with other people.
There is always a slice of pizza that I want more than all the others. Out of politeness I’m usually obliged to be happy with what I’m given even though I mostly get the nearest piece to me which is never the best one.
This time, I was with a lover who enjoyed seeing me get precisely what I wanted all the time and at his expense. I could finally take the best slice totally guilt-free, knowing that he was looking forward to the scraps I would leave him.
The first round of garlic bread arrived and I felt like it was my birthday and the bread was my best present. To have my lover watching me as I took complete control of the starter course was something I had dreamed of quite often. He understood that the best bits were for me alone; it was as ego-boosting as it was belly filling for me.
I happily ate my garlic bread not caring about the other customers in the place. I almost forgot to remind my lover to serve me. When I had almost finished, I gave him a small dried-up piece and he took it gladly and crunched on it slowly. I took a first sip from my glass of white wine and it grounded me, making the situation a little less unusual.
When the pizza arrived and I dug in hungrily, picking the best piece and giving my lover nothing. I sunk my teeth into the cheese, chewed the topping and base then closed my eyes. As I ate more, I got a little fuller and offered my lover some of my cold leftovers. I reached the point where I couldn’t eat any more so, reluctantly, I offered him an untouched, virgin slice of pizza. He looked down at it then met my eyes with his own disappointed ones. There were no bite-marks, so he wasn’t hungry.
I messed the slice up and offered him my used cutlery after ordering him to fetch me a fresh set. It worked like a charm and being able to use my sticky knife and fork made my lover eager to join in.
Everyone in the restaurant was oblivious to the role-play scenario we were enjoying; it was our private game of pizza punishment and I was in charge.
The next time you go out for a pizza, look around you and see if you can spot the protocol or lack of it. There are more games taking place around you than you’ll ever know. For proof of that, you need only to check the games being played out here!
Title Photo by “puppy“
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That glossy cheese adhering to your plump lips just makes my head spin…the text is even finer.
Can I be your pizza puppy too?
Cheese stringers are so sexy, this is great.
Topping-tastic.
Educational, informative and a huge turn-on.
This is fiercely intelligent, nostalgic and a wonderful counter-point to your previous “fitness fetish” post. Amazing.
This is real good!
Great writing.
After this I will being careful to look at others in a pizza parlour in cases I seen someones puppy like this.
Your harsh protocols made me sweat with pleasure.
Wowwww…. as always, a pleasure to my eyes, and to my mind!!! When can i cook for you a Pizza?
Kisses
So cool that you crossed out the name of the slave who made the picture…
I do hope that’s pineapple pizza. I just had some right now~ :3