Happy Birthday, Scuttle Buttin'!!

[Britwitch]

SURPRISE!!

Happy Happy Birthday!!

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The room is set and waiting for the birthday boy to come and enjoy his surprises.

There are balloons of blue, to match his eyes...

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Sweet things to make him smile!

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Anyone and everyone is welcome to leave their birthday wishes here.

There are also those who have also been planning...and plotting...
Arrangements made and surprises organised. But more about those later!

Feel free to drop by and say a word or two for the man himself to read and as for the rest...hopefully you'll read along and enjoy.

​

 

[Britwitch]

She had been shaking when she’d left the powder blue envelope on the table. Excitement and nerves and a whole host of other emotions surging through her veins. A single word on the front in her slightly looping handwriting and inside an invitation.

You are invited to attend…your birthday party.
There will be some surprises for you to enjoy from some fairly familiar faces.
Each will doubtless be different, all will be for you and you alone.
Hoping you will enjoy each and every one just as those creating them will have enjoyed making them for you.
See you at the party…
Freckles
x​

She’d been planning and scheming with those she knew would jump at the chance to surprise him. Their presents would be unknown even to her. She knew the general themes…but that was all. She couldn’t wait to see what came out of their plotting and to see what his reaction might be.

And of course, as well as the buying of balloons and hanging of banners, there would be her own gift to prepare…

 

[rubydlite]

Happy birthday

 

[pfflyerhot]

This is kinda funny...

We don't know each other, but everytime, I see the username Scuttle Buttin, I go, "I fucking love that username..." I saw you all over the place last night and I was thisclose to laying out my admiration for the name then. And, now... it's your birthday. Happy Birthday Scuttle Buttin'. Great username!
♫...and many more.

 

[SiaKlynn]

Late to the party. *hugs* I don't need to say much, but Happy Birthday. I think you know what you mean to me.

 

[Britwitch]

Birthday Cake

The kitchen smells delicious.

Even before you walked through the door you knew sinfully sweet things were being made within. Upon walking through the door the first thing you’d probably notice would be the large platter covered with mini individual pecan pies, each with a nut carefully pressed onto the top. Awaiting their final dusting with icing sugar, they looked just as rich as the baker hoped they would taste. Beside them were cupcakes by the dozen, each hand piped to look like it was covered with wild grass and with a brightly coloured fondant dinosaur rising up out of the green butter cream fronds. These would supplement the rest of the party food in the main room. The task currently at hand was something far grander and far more important. After all, you couldn’t have a birthday party without a birthday cake, now could you?

As you walk deeper in the kitchen, following the natural pathways formed by stainless steel counters and shiny looking equipment, you’re aware of activity. There are stronger scents now in the air. Sugar, rich and dark and brown. Vanilla, sweet and smooth. Chocolate, decadent and oh-so-tempting.

You can hear the soft rustles of packets being emptied, the hushed pattering of something being poured. The odd sharp crack as metal meets metal, chopping perhaps? Chocolate ready for melting maybe.

There’s also a voice. Half humming, half singing. The tone occasionally strained as something apparently heavy or unwieldy was perhaps lifted. Shifted. Moved.

Coming around the end of the counter you’ll find her engrossed in her work, energies and attention entirely focused on the bowl before her. Cooling on two wire racks are two large, round cakes. One smaller than the other and each one different. One pale. One darker.

Her grandmother had instilled in her the need to use a wooden spoon when making cakes in this quantity. Wooden spoons were strong after all. Pink lips curved into a smile while her arm steadily brought the ingredients together. A memory popping unexpectedly into her mind, a vision of another kitchen…and a wooden spoon.

Teeth caught on her lip as she fidgeted slightly.

The wet slap of the cake batter against the bowl and spoon reminding of other elements of the memory that was playing and replaying in her brain.

The clatter of wood against tiles, the smack of the same wood against skin.

Her thighs pressed together as she shifted her weight from one hip to the other in a vain attempt at dispelling the tingle between them. She didn’t need that now, she needed to focus. He could arrive at any moment and what kind of birthday surprise would be it be if his cake wasn’t even baked yet.

She found a small measure of relief in that she was on the last part now, or at least, the part that was still to go into the oven. This too was different from the others already baked. A chocolate cake. Velvety and dark, it would hopefully be light enough to stop it being sickly. Soon the cake was in the oven and for now her work was done.

The rest would have to wait until cakes were cool and ready to decorate. And then she would wait for him…

*~*~*~*~*​

When he arrived she didn’t know whether he’d found his other presents yet. What they might have been and how they might have been received. All she knew was that she heard feet descending the steps into the kitchen and knew the time had come for her gift to be given.

“Why don’t you take a seat..?” Her voice is soft and yet somehow it echoes in the now still kitchen.

The overhead lighting was switched off, the room illuminated by a few small lights here and then that were designed to light up work surfaces and by candles. Towards the end of the room, where there was space, there was now a table and a chair. And on the table was a cake. Three tiers and all carefully decorated. On the top a group of candles stood burning.

She waits until he sits down before emerging from the shadows where she’s waited. Her heels clack against the tiled floor with a steady rhythm as she approaches. Bare legs rise up from the black suede pumps that encase her feet, up until the view of more undoubtedly bare flesh is blocked by a simple garment. White and frilled, she knows the sight of that particular item of clothing will make him smile even if nothing else did. She made sure the tapes around her waist were tight enough and the strap around her neck short enough that the apron at least made an attempt to hold parts of her in. And it did. But barely.

When she got to him she paused, trying to calm the thrill of excitement that threatened to derail her thoughts and ruin her well planned speech. Bending at the waist, a hand light on his shoulder, she pressed her lips to his.

“Happy Birthday, Daddy.” She smiled, the expression bright in the half darkness she’d created.

“I wanted to make you something special and, well, we both know how I like my baking. Besides,” she giggles, “I wasn’t really dressed appropriately for doing anything else.”

Stepping back she moved to stand beside the table and the cake she’d spent hours preparing.

“This is your birthday cake. Or rather, several birthday cakes rolled into one. It’s a cake that, I hope, will tell a little story.”

On the table cloth lay three small spoons. One was now picked up and in the side of the cake furthest from his chair, it was sunk into the frosting. Fingers directing its motion until it had scooped a small sample of the cake that formed the first tier.

The spoon was carried carefully to him and when he obligingly opened his mouth, it was pushed gently inside. As he chewed she took a half step back, a wicked twinkle in her eyes.

“It’s a fruit cake. A family recipe and a good one, even if I say so myself. It’s full of all sorts of good things.” She giggled, unable to stop herself. “I like to think this cake is like the first part of our story. Full of all sorts of good things…all while being a little nutty.”

Forcing herself not to dissolve into completely hysterical laughter, she picked up the second spoon and repeated the process with the second layer.
This was lighter and softer.

“Lemon cake.” She said while he chewed and swallowed. “A change from what went before. A sense of relief almost, and even though lemons can be bitter…” that sparkle flashed in her eyes “…this has a lingering sweetness that the palate can appreciate.”

A pause and then the third spoon was picked up. A healthy piece of the uppermost tier was balanced upon it and this time she took a seat across his lap before pushing the spoon into his mouth.

“And last but not least, chocolate cake.” She leant away to put the spoon onto the table before curling an arm around his shoulders. “Dark and seductive, sweet and sinful.” A kiss to his cheek. “All the things…” then jaw, “a good chocolate cake should be,” then his lips. Tasting him and the chocolate he had just enjoyed. “And all the things you are.”

She kissed him again, unable to resist the urge to shift her hips over his lap while doing so, making sure some of her curves pressed a little more definitely against parts of him in the process.
There was more she wanted to say, but none of it she needed to. They both knew everything there was to know.

“You should probably blow out your candles too, before they melt all over the cakes.” She grinned, not really wanting to get off his lap at all but knowing she should let him get up. For all she knew he had other gifts to find. Sighing softly as the bare skin of her behind dragged across the fabric of his pants before she stood before him.

“You should make a wish too…and who knows, if you wish it hard enough, it might even come true.”

 

[TinyDuchess]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY Scuttles!!!!!!!



Your present from me will arrive soon!!! ​

 

[saysalice]

Birthday Suit

The cupcakes are just too tempting. She pinches a Brachiosaurus from atop a thatch of grass-green icing as she passes a table in the main room - just a taste of sugar melting on her tongue, not enough to spoil her appetite - and slips quietly into the private space she has appropriated for this special occasion.

Though it's been designated the dressing room, one only has to step inside to realize that it's not much of a room at all. It more closely resembles a large walk-in closet, with dark sliding panels concealing hanging wardrobe space and a wall of shelves for storing...well, one could store any number of personal items here. The passage is not wide enough to accommodate anything like a bed or even a divan - the only furnishings are a high-backed chair, upholstered in slick cream-colored satin and placed between thick navy draperies framing a single window, filmy with sheer privacy curtains. A soft, patterned carpet in shades of blue leads from the door to this chair, befitting grand entrances and high drama, and an ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling, just over the chair.

When he opens the door, he cannot miss the curly-haired girl sitting in this chair with one leg crossed over the other - rather more elaborately attired than perhaps he's used to seeing her. She smiles, and there is a glint of mischief in her eye as she rises from the chair, putting her hands on her hips.

"Well. 'bout time you got here."

She steps to one side and gestures at the chair, sinking to her knees as he approaches, to retrieve two glass tumblers that have been tucked away underneath. She hands one to him as he sits, and keeps one for herself. A dram of whiskey sloshes at the bottom of each glass, afloat with tiny, smooth-edged ice chips.

"The ice has melted," she comments regretfully, "but I couldn't help that."

Sitting up on her knees, craning to reach him, she presses a wet kiss to his lips and grins, raising her glass.

"I know you don't drink much, but you will at least let me toast you, today." For just a moment, her eyes and lips soften, and the sass goes out of her voice as she sits back, cocking her head to one side to smile at him fondly.

"Today - this week, really - we celebrate you, Sir. I wanted to take a second (you know, while I've got you cornered) to thank you for being in my life. For putting up with my silliness and my stubbornness, and my ranting and rambling and teasing, and all the weird porn links I send you."

She pauses, biting her lower lip and glancing down thoughtfully at the pebbles of ice swiftly disappearing into a thin layer of water in her glass.

"Thank you for...going with me to dark places."

She blinks up at him, and she's not smiling now. "And for still respecting me, afterwards. Never condescending to me..." the corner of her mouth twitches, "except when you know that I really want you to."

With a sigh, her smile brightens and she lifts her glass higher, closer to his. "You're something. I don't know how I managed to worm my way into a spot on your dance card, but...I feel really lucky to be here. You've been a good friend. It's been exhilarating and maddening and a giggle-fest, and you've been singularly responsible for keeping me sane on multiple occasions."

Her cheeks flush slightly, but her smile is determined to finish. "Other times, you've had me completely out of my mind... I just wanted to take this opportunity to say thank you. You're good people, and I am lucky to know you. So - "

She puts her hand on his knee, sitting up to clink her glass gently against his. "Here's to you, Sir. Happy birthday. I hope this year brings you every happiness. And if I can contribute to that happiness in some small way, you just let me know."

Her curving lips hover over the rim of the tumbler and she mutters into the glass, "Because I didn't get you anything."

The whiskey stings her lips and burns all the way down her throat, and she can't quite stifle a wince as she swallows, but she manages a quick wink up at him. Whether he swallows his portion or not is inconsequential; she takes the glass from him when it's clear he's finished with it, and stands up to slide open the panel of one of the closets - just enough for a glimpse of gleaming metal and matte black leather from the shadows. The restless chatter of slim chains reaches his ears as she stashes the glasses on a lower shelf and slaps the panel shut again.

When she turns back to him, her expression is relatively calm, but there is a reckless excitement in her eyes. She stands before him - parts her lips as if she would say something...then only exhales on a smiling sigh, and sits on the floor, cross-legged in front of his chair.

After a moment, she blurts, seemingly apropos of nothing: "I had this boss."

"I was temping, one summer when I was twenty-ish, for this company that printed certain local newspapers. I remember the guys who were responsible for arranging layouts for the printing press were called 'strippers' within the industry - it amused me to no end, to be able to truthfully tell my mother that I was working with a bunch of male strippers..."

She clears her throat. He is used to her tangents, patiently waiting for her to come 'round to the point. Perhaps she is enjoying making him wait.

"The job was just alright, but the best thing about the place was that the boss gave every employee the day off on his or her birthday. He would joke that it saved him a fortune in cakes and cards and such, for office parties - but really, it was very cool. Who wants to work on their birthday?"

She sits up a little straighter and tugs at the lapels of her tailored suit jacket. "I thought of him, when I was trying to decide on a birthday surprise for you. I've been on the other side of this equation before, (as you know), and what left the deepest impression for me was what a lot of work it was, to dominate someone - always having to dream up new ways to challenge and torment them."

She appears somewhat restless; she jumps to her feet suddenly and paces the carpet a bit - then moves to the panel she's recently opened, sliding it a bit more to close a tiny gap. She pauses to lean with both hands against the door, as if testing to see if it will support her weight, and then she turns to him again.

"I know that for...natural dominants, it is of course, something of a labor of love - lower-case 'l'-love, like 'liberal'..." She steps back to his chair again, smiling. "But still - who wants to work on their birthday?"

"So."

She bites her lips to keep an amused grin from sprawling out of control. "Don't worry, I'm not going to try to switch on you."

Leaning forward to place her hands on his knees, watching his face, her smile and tone speak confidence, but her eyes are a little too wide.

"It cannot have escaped your notice that I have dressed 'up' for you, today. I know that having a person naked emphasizes your power over them, their vulnerability...but I think it also triggers certain expectations. A naked submissive is a body to be acted upon - whether for my pain or pleasure, with nakedness and submission comes a certain passiveness. It's all on you, Sir. While I understand that you take great enjoyment in exercising that authority, I am proposing that we change it up just a bit - just for today."

The old Aesop story of the fox without a tail flits across her mind briefly. With her hands still on his knees, she lowers herself into a crouch and looks up at him from between his legs.

"I am proposing that I remain fully clothed, for once. As a statement, that there will be no pleasure, for me. It's all about you today, Sir." She fans her fingers out to stretch across his thighs, stopping short of reaching for his fly.

"I am proposing...that you strip, Sir. And let me go to work."

She waits a moment to allow him to digest the idea, then she smiles sweetly and shrugs her shoulders, glancing briefly behind her.

"Of course - it's your day, so it's your choice. If you decide - now, or at any time - that it's just not your idea of fun...I've arranged for the delivery of a number of suits, casual, kink wear and other outfits you might be comfortable in. Even that goddamned gas mask getup, if that's what you want. They're in the closet on your left. And I will get naked, if that's your preference."

"In the closet to your right," she nods in the direction of the panel she's just closed, "there are...toys. Everything I could think of, that you might like and I might hate. If I bore you, if you want to take over, you can use them on me...or have me use them on myself."

She looks back at him, her cheeks flushing again and her gaze wavering uncertainly as she repeats, "Your choice. Call this an experiment. Science-y."

 

[Belvino]

Happy Belated Birthday!

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

So first, I have to thank freckles for putting this all together. She is still one of the single most thoughtful, kind, generous people I know, and that is why I adore her so very much. Okay, it could be partially because her breasts are incredible too.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

Happy birthday

Thanks! Glad to still see you around these parts!

We don't know each other, but everytime, I see the username Scuttle Buttin, I go, "I fucking love that username..." I saw you all over the place last night and I was thisclose to laying out my admiration for the name then. And, now... it's your birthday. Happy Birthday Scuttle Buttin'. Great username!
♫...and many more.

You know what's funny about this? Every time I see your name, even though it's very clearly not that, in my head I read it as "p-flyer-host." And now I think that's just what you're going to be for now into eternity. So.. I guess now you're the host of the Philadelphia Flyers, in my head. I think that's the name of their hockey team? I don't really watch hockey! Anyway, I'm rambling. Thanks for the birthday wishes, and the name admiration!

Late to the party. *hugs* I don't need to say much, but Happy Birthday. I think you know what you mean to me.

Thanks, Sia! I'm so happy to be seeing you around more, even if I do miss you most of the time when you're here. This place was always better when you were around.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY Scuttles!!!!!!!



Your present from me will arrive soon!!! ​

Thanks! I shall be waiting on the edge of my seat.

Happy Belated Birthday!

Thanks, Bel!

(I may've just given you a nickname...)