Our mornings usually began with coffee. I was a morning person, and rather than inflict sir with a cheerful good morning, I crept downstairs to start our morning pot of coffee. On this particular day, my mind was running through the events of the night as I threw out old grounds and filled the pot with water. In the past eight hours I had given two blowjobs and had been fucked thoroughly, but despite having enjoyed myself, something nagged at me.
I straightened the kitchen while I mulled over matters, the aroma of fresh coffee swirling around me. I couldn’t decide if I was being overly-sensitive. My gripe seemed petty, but I no longer trusted my perspective on the situation. Sir and I were having more and more conversations about my behavior lately. I didn’t classify myself as a brat, but in recent weeks I had taken to talking back and even telling sir ‘no’ on occasion. He kept a sense of humor about it, and told me that he loved my sass, but I couldn’t seem to curb my tongue. Part of me didn’t want to, and as a result, I was pushing back and acting out.
I wasn’t proud of myself. As I chewed my lip in front of the coffee pot, I worried that my irritation was only subterfuge, that I was fooling myself into thinking that I had a defensible position for my irritation. All the while the nagging feeling in my chest warned that if I probed deeper into the motivation behind my brattiness, I’d find a bigger issue that I didn’t want to deal with. And I really didn’t want to look into that writhing can of worms.
When the percolating stopped, I took a cup up to sir still wrestling with myself. He was awake and propped up against the pillows, his laptop settled across his lap. The light from the screen highlighted his slightly mussed hair and hazel eyes. I loved seeing him this way, half-awake and drowsy with sleep. He murmured a thank you for the coffee, and his gaze followed me as I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
“So what got you riled up in the middle of the night? Were you looking at porn?” I asked.
“No,” he said, a small smile on his face. “I woke up with a boner and decided to put your face on it.”
His wording made me laugh, and I almost spit toothpaste on the mirror. “You know, you woke me up from a deep sleep. I thought maybe I’d get a thank you for the service or at least a high-five. Maybe a ‘way to go, slave.’”
I kept my tone teasing and light, but my earlier feelings of angst bobbed beneath it. I had blown him before we went to sleep only to be woken up a few hours later for a second blowjob. Oral sex was one of my duties as a sex slave, and it was one of my favorites. In the middle of the night, though, when I was yanked out of dreamland to suck cock… well, I tried to be gracious about it. And regardless of my feelings, I did it.
This isn’t the problem, I thought. But I squashed it down and silently scolded my feelings to shut the fuck up.
“I said thank you by filling your mouth with come. It’s your reward.”
“Right,” I said, unconvinced. I knew he was teasing me, but I couldn’t muster a smile in return.
“After I gifted you with my come, I wrapped you in my arms to snuggle you. But my phantom girlfriend was gone, disappearing into the bathroom. Without permission, I might add.” The look on sir’s face was pleasant, as was his voice, but I felt a twinge when he mentioned my disobedience.
I had left our bed on purpose. I put my toothbrush away and came to stand beside him. He reached for my hand, but I avoided his eyes.
“I didn’t want to snuggle you while feeling bitchy about your silence so I got up to clear my head. I came back right after I peed,” I said.
“Perhaps there’s a better way that we can communicate so that you don’t feel like you’re unappreciated. Maybe you can say, ‘I felt ____ when ____ happened.’”
I tried not to roll my eyes even though I knew he was right. I hadn’t handled it well, and I should have told him about my irritation rather than abandoning the situation.
“Fine,” I said.
Sir’s eyebrows arched with surprise. “I think someone needs to remember her manners.”
“FINE. SIR.”
As sir’s eyes widened with incredulity, I gave him a look that would have made any five-year-old proud. I couldn’t help pushing him, needling him one step further.
“Come to the other side of the bed, please,” he said and patted the space beside him.
“I have to go to work.”
“This won’t take long. I’ll count to five. 1… 2…”
I didn’t stall any further, knowing things would be so much worse if I delayed even further. He instructed me to get on my knees towards the edge of the bed with my ass pointing out towards the window. I stared at the jumbled sheets around me and wondered what kind of hot water I had landed in.The jingle of a belt buckle answered my unspoken question.
“I want you to count, and I want you to thank me for each one, because you need a lesson in manners.”
“Yes, sir,” I said meekly, my fingers digging into a blanket.
He hit me hard, the sting of leather stealing my breath. I counted and thanked him, tears pooling beneath my lashes. I only had to count to five, but sir made every one of them count.
After the last one, I stayed in place, trying to catch my breath. I heard the belt drop to the floor, and then sir’s arm gently pushed me down. I toppled on to my side, my emotions a zigzagging blur inside me. I felt outraged that I was punished even though on the heels of that came a giant wave of relief for it. All it took was those five strikes and my defenses were breached. I was laid bare, open and vulnerable.
Sir’s arms came around me, and he pulled the blanket over us both. He spoke in my ear, his words soothing and sensual at the same time. The tickle of his breath on my neck, and the rumble of his voice against my back… I told myself to remember every last little detail. I wanted to soak in the experience through my skin and into my bones so that I could recall it in the lonely weeks to come. It was then that I realized that the quagmire of emotion inspiring my behavior was grief, an ocean of sadness that he will be leaving. It wasn’t a can of worms that I was avoiding. It was one giant, Dune-sized, earth-shaking worm of loss that I wanted to un-see. I decided to continue ignoring it even as it threatened to surface.
We have today, I told myself. We have this moment.
It had to be enough.
