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The Tasting	By : dancingsalome Category: A through F > Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Views: 4928 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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After Wonka had shed the last of Mrs. Bucket’s clothes, he disappeared from her view. She turned her head and caught a glimpse of him standing behind her. Then she could feel his breath waft over her neck, and then he kissed her there.
Slowly, very slowly he started to lick her back. His tongue was warm, but the moisture left on her skin felt cool. Mrs. Bucket shivered and moaned, but Wonka continued undisturbed. His hair fell forward, a silky touch on her skin, and she became aware that her body responded to this unhurried touch. She had never felt anything like it- Mr. Bucket's embraces had always been most welcome, but he had never ventured his tongue anywhere other than her mouth.
Now Mr. Wonka's mouth moved over her skin, it seemed that every inch, every hollow, in her skin was to be touched by the softest of touches. First warmth and pressure, ever so lightly, and then the tongue left to explore other parts, leaving a not unpleasant coolness, and a mark of moisture.
Down, down, now and then not only the tongue but a soft whisper of hair against her skin, a skin that seemed to grow more sensitive the longer time passed. Down over her buttocks, in between them- she bucked wildly away from this, and then further down, until he had finally reached her feet. Then the touch disappeared, and Mrs. Bucket found that her body missed it, even if she hoped that it was over now.
“Are you comfortable, Mrs. Bucket?” Mr. Wonka's voice came unexpectedly level with her face, and she turned her head sharply. Despite the dim light she could see his strange eyes clearly- they almost seemed to glow. “It was a bit of a rush job, and I hope that it doesn't chafe you, or something like that.”
She heard a slight whirr and the tension in her uplifted arm went away, and she could lower them so she could see her hands just before her face. The thing enclosing her wrists seemed to be made of rubber, and though she could not slip out of their grip, she was not too uncomfortable. Mr. Wonka ran a gloved finger over her hands, nodding.
“No, you seem fine. Good. We don't want you to get sore.”
Then he bowed his head, and kissed the hollow of her throat, and Mrs. Bucket closed her eyes. It didn't seem that her ordeal was over, and now he was quickly approaching parts of her body that she really didn't want anyone other than her husband to be near. She was embarrassingly aware that her nipples were hard, and when the tongue finally snaked over them, she could no longer deny how aroused she was despite herself. The delicate caress was too much, she could not withstand it, and as the licking went down again, her whole body shook.
However, when Mr. Wonka reached her navel, Mrs. Bucket firmly pressed her legs together. She was not going to suffer that seductive mouth on her most private place, and even when she could feel a burst of pleasure when she could feel him lap over her, she pressed her legs even closer together.
There was a pause- Mrs. Bucket willed herself not to look down, but started out in the surround dusk. Then she jumped when something cold, and definitely very hard touched one of her thighs.
The cane. He was using his cane to pry her legs apart, and though as unhurriedly as anything else he had done, the pressure of the hard wood proved too much too fight. When he had succeeded she could feel the knob of the cane press against her, and though the gap between her legs was not large, it was large enough for Mr. Wonka to sneak his tongue over her.
It was too much, the pleasure that had been mounting for such a long time grew rapidly stronger, coiling in her stomach and wanting to be freed. It was no use to resist it anymore, Mrs. Bucket could not stop the heat that engulfed her, and her hips moved to meet the movements of ten tongue. Suddenly she realised that the knob was not so much pressing against her than inside her, and for a moment she recalled that the handle was much larger than her husband's cock, and then she could feel herself stretch- almost painful, but not quite, and then she came, finally succumbing totally to the ministrations of Mr. Wonka.
For how long she couldn't tell, the feeling burst inside her, ebbed away and then returned even stronger, back and forth in a way she never had experienced before, and never thought was possible. Eventually it died away, leaving just a faint echo in her body, and she came to her sense much enough to notice that was happening outside herself.
Mr. Wonka was still kneeling in front of her, resting his forehead against her leg. It was, she realised, the first time he touched her with his bare skin, apart from his mouth. Mrs. Bucket wasn't sure what he was doing, though. He had stopped licking her, and she thought he was breathing as hard as she. But after a quick glance down, she firmly shut her eyes. She didn't want to know what he was doing.
At length he rose, and Mrs. Bucket was freed. First she stood perfectly still, before she lowered her arms, carefully moving them back and forth to ease the stiffness, so she could remove her gag. Then she looked up and saw Mr. Wonka standing nearby, looking as neat as if nothing had happened between them. Suddenly everything she had felt in the last hour was replaced by anger. How dared the little megalomaniac treat her like this! The rage engulfed her, making her feel warm and glowing, and when she spoke she could hear it as a tremor in her voice.
“You better start looking for another heir to your precious factory, because I, and my family, are leaving here today.”
“Taking Charlie away?”
“Oh yes! As far from you as possible.”
“But you can't.” Mr Wonka laughed one of his high nervous little laughs. “I simply can't permit that, Mrs. Bucket. I just can't allow it.”
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him, once again surprising her with his strong grip.
“I can't do without Charlie. Absolutely not. And surely you understand that I need your help? You can't possibly think that I can evolve a new taste after just this time? Chocolate making is, as I believe I have already told you, a serious task. I need to do this again. Several times, most likely”
Until now Mrs. Bucket hadn't been truly afraid. Uncomfortable, yes, puzzled and wondering, a bit scared, but not really frightened. But now, in Wonka’s unbreakable grip combined with his cheerful voice, she did grow scared, and she tried to break free.
“Let go of me! No! You have no right to do this!”
Mr. Wonka, however, didn't seem to be listening to her. “I think you need to go back to the waiting room. Just for a little while, you understand, until I can find a better way to accommodate you.”
“You can't lock me up,” Mrs. Bucket protested as she was brought back to the little white room, wholly unable to stop him. “Charlie needs me. It must be dinnertime soon, and I will be missed.”
Wonka turned in the doorway and gave her a blinding smile.
“Mothers disappear.”
“But Charlie will miss me. He'll be miserable. You don't want Charlie to be sad, do you?”
Wonka frowned a little. “True. I don't want that.”
Mrs. Bucket took a step forward, thinking that she had finally gotten through to him, but the door closed and was gone. Then Wonka's voice floated through the walls.
“Don't worry, my dear, dear Mrs. Bucket. You will soon see Charlie again, as soon as I have seen to one or two little changes. Fathers disappear too, you know. Sometimes very suddenly.”
His voice faded away and left Mrs. Bucket in silence. She leaned her hot face against the cool surface of the wall, fear running through her. Exactly what was going to happen to her husband the next time he met Mr. Wonka in one of the factories many corridors?
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The Tasting