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He knew when he gave it that it was a near impossible task. Asking a human to replicate from memory one of the most convoluted pastry recipes in the devildom, it almost made a small smile twitch at the edges of his lips as you struggled.
Moreover, the struggle was the point. It is always the point. He's long known he had to rein in some of his appetites with you and he didn't mind, it's just part of the deal. But there are a myriad of paths that lead to the same satisfaction, if one is willing to look for them.
And one of those pathways led you here, fingers clawing at the marble countertops and smearing the splattered icing. You could hear him tsk behind you, a generous fistful of your hair in his grip keeping your posture taught.
"You're always making such a mess," he purred, "how do you expect to learn well if you can't even keep a clean workspace?"
The flat of the blade was cold, raising gooseflesh across your body as it was pressed to your upper arm. Fear and anticipation rolled off of you in waves, threatening to drown the entire kitchen.
You didn't give any response, he didn't want one. Fingers trembling you resumed kneading the dough, a superhuman effort considering your hearts thunderous pounding in your ears. Surely he could hear it, and the thought coupled with the firmer press of the blades flat side had the muscles in your abdomen flexing.
"Ah, ah-" a harder tug of your hair, and a semi surprising sting.
You hissed at the brief flare of pain, but even in this he was gentle with you. A soft press of his finger to the wire-thin wound. You didn't need to see to know he tasted you, to know the melting coppery taste excited him.
However you didn't stop in your pastry ministrations for long, trying to ignore the ache between your thighs as soft dough gave way beneath your fingertips.
However relaxing the motions may have been it wasn't enough to distract from the same pain mirrored on your opposite arm, a millisecond snap sear. What surprised you more was his release of your hair, your posture instantly relaxing, no longer puppeteered.
The reprieve was brief.
First it was the wet sensation, and at first you worried the cut had been deeper, dripping down to your leg. The winding path it took dispelled the thought in seconds, it was unmistakably his tail. You pressed your lips together, trying to hide the smile threatening to crack onto your cheeks in unmitigated satisfaction.
Supple fingers slid up and down your neck as he pressed you harder against the edge of the countertop from behind. You didn't dare slow your fingers though, separating and shaping the dough as if nothing was amiss. Though you couldn't help the moan that squeaked past your lips as the damp tip skirted along the inside edge of your shorts.
He held you hostage with little effort, pressing the cold steel flat against the underside of your breast before flicking upward with practiced ease. The fabric gave, making you flinch as the warm air caressed your exposed skin.
The muscles in your calves tensed as the moist tip of his tail teased along the crease of fabric digging against your pussy, making you gasp as it slipped inside and slid fully between your labia before lightly twitching against your clit.
Due to the prolonged tension your legs begin to shake, dropping the dough with a firm splat against the floured countertop.
He allows himself to smile, you always crack so easily.
Faster than your brain can comprehend he's got you fully over the counter, the edge digging into your ribs should make you wince but you can't be bothered to think of the pain when he's toying with your clit so expertly. A whimper leaves you as you feel his erection, hidden in layers of clothes, push against your ass.
Those fingers are no longer gently dancing along your neck, no his grip is firm now as tears blur your vision and your cheek smooshes even harder against the marble. You're left to gasp and mewl as his tail prods your entrance, before it slithers, thick and wiggling, inside you.
The push is blissful agony, your cunt giving in so easily to his slick tail. He feels almost out of body, listening to your cries and watching your hands flit around frantically looking for something to claw onto. Nothing made him feel more oddly superior, reducing you to a blubbering mess with nothing but his own tail.
Smirking he pressed the flat edge of the knife once more to your upper arm, hissing out that you needed to be still. It was doubly cruel, letting his tail slither in and out of your throbbing pussy and simultaneously demanding you minimize your reactions. But again, you failed the original task by stopping completely. The dough was already forgotten in your mind, bled out with another thin stripe of red welling against your skin.
You're whines and pathetic twitches were intoxicating. He was holding you by the scruff and watching you struggle, eyes blown wide and feeling through the fabric of his own slacks the wetness seeping, running down your legs.
"Your mise en place was sloppy, and you've given up halfway through," his tone was walking the line between hard and teasing, "do you think you deserve to cum?"
You wailed, choking on a small sob as the pace of his tail increased. Daring you to cum before you'd answered, begged like your life depended on it. Your response was a delirious, messy string of please followed by his name, groveling in hitches as his tail slammed into you and your body struggled to not defy him.
It was a sight he wished he could photograph. Your skin coated in sweat, small rivulets of blood, and now your own cum and mixed arousal as he purred out that you pleaded well. Feeling your cunt squeeze and milk his tail as he fucked you through your orgasm made him hang his head back, suddenly ravenous to stuff you full of his cock and let your greedy pussy have everything he could give.
There was still plenty of time to attempt the lesson again, after all.