So here's a little fiction I wrote for someone yesterday to try to illustrate the power of D/s dynamics and how they can turn an ordinary every day activity into something erotic. I specifically left out any references to the sub's arousal, so as you read feel free to insert them in your mind if you have them.
I wake early. She still sleeps soundly. This is our routine. I slide quietly from the bed, careful not to disturb her. I’m naked, as she likes me, wearing only the leather collar, wrist, and ankle cuffs that mark me as hers. They remind me of my place.
I steal one last glance of her peaceful form from the doorway. It makes me smile. Downstairs I prepare her breakfast. Two eggs crafted into an omelet. Two strips of bacon fried to a crisp. A slice of wheat toast with butter and jam. A small bowl of berries and sliced melon. Orange juice. A fresh pot of coffee.
I pour some coffee into a mug and carefully mix in 1 cream and 2 sugars. I set it out to cool. The temperature is crucial. While I always cook with love, she has taken the time to train me to perfection. Every item is prepared with impeccable care and attention to detail. Sloppiness gets punished with the belt. I rarely require it; my desire to see her smile is enough motivation to be perfect for her.
I hear the creak of the steps and my heart races. I quickly transfer the food to the plate in a neat and presentable manner. I have the table properly arranged before she reaches the kitchen. I hear her slippers on the kitchen floor. I instantly turn to face her and drop to my knees, head bowed.
My face flushes red and a smile parts my lips. It always feels special when she calls me that.
I spring to my feet and hustle around the table, pulling out her chair for her. She takes her position and I adjust her seat. I stand to her side without hovering, ready to meet her requests. I anxiously look up at her face as she takes the first bite.
"It needs more pepper, pet. This isn't like you."
I nod and quickly retrieve the pepper grinder, twisting it a few times over her omelet. I hide my self-disgust. She won't let me linger there for long.
A few bites later I receive my next instructions.
"You may have a slice of white toast, dry, and a glass of water. If I'm going to eat bland food for breakfast, so will you."
I nod and quickly prepare my meal. I continue to glance back to make sure her cups are at least half full. As the bread toasts I top off her coffee. I linger while she takes a sip, wondering if it needs more cream or sugar. She sets the cup down without a word.
The toaster pops and I place it on a small plate and fill a glass with water off the tap. As I approach the table she merely points at the floor. I nod and kneel on the floor near her as I eat my toast. I hate the floor because I cannot see her face. I accept it as part of my punishment for serving her bland eggs.
I rise and rinse my plate in the sink before returning to my place standing near her. A few minutes later she sets down her fork.
"I’m finished, pet. It was delicious. No leftovers for you today. I expect you will not make the same mistake tomorrow."
The end of breakfast is my cue that the speech restrictions are over.
"Thank you, Mistress. It makes me so happy to serve you. I love you."
"I love you, too, pet."
I assist with her chair. She stands and I kneel before her. She places her hand on my head and smiles. I feel my heart fill up with love until it wants to burst.
She departs the kitchen. I clear her plate and feel a bit disappointed as I feed the leftovers down the garbage disposal. As the food disappears from view my punishment is complete. The meager and bland breakfast, I will be hungry later. That hunger will motivate me to try harder tomorrow. Missing the joy of seeing her face while she ate, I will be aching for her approval the rest of the day. The guilt of failure is gone, replaced by the drive to be better. She is kind to grant me this release. Repeat this mistake tomorrow and the belt will follow.
As I wash the dishes I think about how I can do better. I want to see her smile.