Gordon Ramsey slammed his fist down on the bench top, causing the silverware to jump out of line. A vein was visible on his forehead, pulsing in time with his rapid, aggravated breathing and threatening to burst at any given moment. His scowl was deeper than Mariana's Trench as he regarded to dish being prepared in front of him, his expert eyes instantly picking out the slightest details that probably no one else would be bothered by.
"Paula Deen!" he roared, his excessively loud voice booming throughout the kitchen and bouncing off the tiled walls in a menacing echo. "What the fuck is this?" It was obviously a strain for him to keep his voice from breaking on that last word. His whole body was tense with anger, his shoulders hunched and his jaw clenched dangerously.
Paula, understandably flustered, looked from her dish to Gordon and back again, her hands shaking slightly. She tried to remain calm, keeping her tone as flat as possible. "Now listen here.." That was her first mistake.
Gordon Ramsey was not a man who appreciated being talked down to. With a reaction like a whip cracking, Chef Ramsey's hand swiped across the bench, sending the mixing bowl in front of Paula hurtling into the wall several meters away. Glass shards sprayed in every direction, and Paula's eyes filled with tears as the golden liquid she'd worked so hard to prepare slowly dripped down the wall in winding tendrils.
"How many times do I have to tell you?" Gordon continued, interrupting Paula's mourning. "You can't create a dish entirely out of butter, you fat fuck!" He was positively livid. This was the third dish Paula had ruined, and he had half a mind to throw her out of the kitchen.
But Paula Deen was just as stubborn as he was and she stood her ground, refusing to budge. Raising her voice to match his, she argued in response, "I ain't never met a Southerner that didn't enjoy his butter! You can't tell me you'd turn down a nice woman covered head to toe in glorious melted butter!"
From under the bench, Paula produced another metal bowl filled with melted butter, something she always tried to keep handy. Staring Gordon (who was speechless at this point) right in the eye, she licked her lips and proceeded to pour the warm, sticky liquid all over herself. Golden waves crashed over her platinum hair, flowed down her plump face, stained the front of her button-up shirt. It was like a disturbing parody of a shampoo advertisement, except that the product was probably not that good for your hair.
Paula Deen was out of control and Gordon Ramsey had never met a woman like her in his life. Something about the way the greasy butter clung to her curves really got the blood flowing to his nether regions. He deftly untied his apron and planted his hands on Paula's waist (or what he thought was her waist, I mean it was pretty hard to tell through all the layers of butter under her skin). Pulling Paula into a rough embrace, Gordon frantically and ungraciously slammed his lips against hers, desperate to taste those salty tears mixed with butter.
His tongue lapped at her cheeks while she giggled in her annoying accent and predictably had difficulty unzipping his pants. Eventually she managed to free his raging penis and, using butter as lubricant, she began to stroke his member none too gently. The woman could whisk like a sorcerer so let's just say she knew how to whip a man's cream.
Rocking his hips to match her strokes, the thought briefly passed through Gordon's mind that there were cameras surrounding them. They were supposed to be filming a new cooking show where they shared tips and secrets with each other, but instead Paula was just playing with his tip. He didn't have much time to worry about the sex tape leaking on the internet because DAMN that warm butter felt good on his pulsating cock.
Paula could sense Gordon was close so she began to jerk him more violently. She wanted to be in control of his climax, as her own way of dominating the kitchen. As he came gloriously, a steady fountain of dick milk, she timed her movements perfectly and saved all the semen in a bowl.
While Gordon was recovering, Paula silently rejoiced. It had all gone according to her plan and now she had a new ingredient to combine with her butter. She batted her eyelashes at the cameras, her glassy blue eyes staring off into the distance. "I hope y'all like custard," was her final remark, followed by a short cackle.