Addictions

Mistress has a perverse addiction.

No, it’s not my work-a-day cock.

Or even the WC’s special occasion cock, which she has seen in one dimensional images but has yet to experience in "Sense-Around".

No her addiction is to a strange mixture of sugar and ground almonds that she hunts down whenever she has a chance to prowl the European continent.

The pretext for her trip to Poland and the Czech Republic was to see and experience the landscape where evil manifested itself in unimaginable ways in the mid part of the last century. And she certainly did that, as the photos and stories she brought home show.

But I sometimes wonder if the whole adventure was really just to indulge her addiction to Marzipan.

The folks at Wikipedia have a useful definition for those of you who have not fallen into this strange and compulsive trap, which, at least for me, tastes no more appealing than flavored candle wax.



"Marzipan is a confection consisting primarily of sugar and almond meal. Some marzipan is flavored with rosewater. Persipan is a similar, yet less expensive product, in which the almonds are replaced by apricot or peach kernels. In Goa (formerly Portuguese India) almonds are replaced by cashews. Many confectionery products sold as marzipan are made from less expensive materials, such as soy paste and almond essence.[1]p. 594 German marzipan is made by grinding whole almonds with sugar and partially drying the paste, and French marzipan is made by combining ground almonds with sugar syrup.[2]p. 484 Spanish marzipan is made without bitter almonds.'

On several trips to Europe back in the 1990’s, to charming ski villages in the Dolomites, to Andalusia, or to the hill towns of Tuscany, it seemed a good bit of our evening passagiata was devoted to feeding Mistress’s addiction, by hunting down perveyors of her own personal crack, whether  in charming confectionaries, or  tacky convenience stores which could have been fronts for Al Queda for all we knew.

So it came as no surprise to me that, as Mistress disgorged the contents of her rolling duffel on Saturday evening, it seemed that 40% of its contents was Marzipan in various forms and shapes – some molded into cuddly little animals in fruity colors, others consisting of multicolored slices from what must have been a marzipan log. (Actually I surprised she didn’t find a way to ship a whole log of this stuff home.)
Mistress grudgingly gave a couple of these little morsels to the sullen teens, who seem to share this strange addiction. But she has hoarded the rest for herself.

After arriving home last night from work, Mistress still feeling a bit of the time shift after a long day of work re-entry, I offered to worship, a post-work ritual I had sorely missed while she was away.

“Of course, Slave….”
Soon she had shed her work cloths, and lay across the bed, completely naked legs spread. But before I fell to my knees she had one more request.

“Hand me that slice of Marzipan, Slave….”, indicating where it sat across the room on her desk.

“Of course, Mistress…”

She lay back, content, nibbling at its edges as I began to nibble on her stubble free, folds, gorging on her own addicting juices.

“Ahhh…. this is heaven, Slave….”

Seeing the humour in the moment I paused briefly to take the photo below, just to exemplify our twin addictions.

While Mistress may worship at the altar of that strange almond / sugar concoction, I am more than content to worship at her altar.

Cue the celestial choir.