I am writing this as a task for my Domme.
She came up behind me as I was making us dinner, wrapped one arm fully around the smallest part of my waist and pulled me close into her. It felt safe, but not in the calming way a gentle touch would. More in a way that reminded me that I was hers. There was a spark in my stomach that came along with this reminder. I lost focus of what I was doing, relaxing into her touch. I shut my eyes so that my senses were all the more in tune with her touch. Her hair brushed along my shoulder as she leaned forward to kiss my neck. She placed several slow kisses in the same spot, pausing teasingly between each. My hands gripped the side of the cold marble countertop. After another long pause, her lips met my skin for what I thought would be another kiss, but instead became a small, sharp bite. It certainly wasn't the hardest she has ever bit my neck, but my skin had grown flush and sensitive with each kiss so that I couldn't help but wince and wriggle a bit. This, I knew, was the wrong reaction, though I think it does please her to know that she can affect me so. Her response was to pull me even closer to her so that I could not move around much even if I wanted to.
"You're squirmy tonight. Are you frustrated?" she asked. I could hear the amusement in her voice.
Between the kisses, the biting, and the closeness I was already feeling quite flustered, so my response was less composed than I had hoped "Uh...yeah...I'm, uh...yes."
The hand that wasn't around my waist grabbed under my jaw. She turned my head so that my eyes met hers. I started to open my mouth to apologize, but thought better of it, instead silently preparing to take whatever scolding I was about to receive.
"Would you like to try that again with a proper response this time?"
"Yes, Miss. I'm sorry, Miss. You have taught me better than that."
"I'll forgive you this time because I assume you were busy making the dinner that I asked you to make. Or...is that a bad assumption?"
Her question snapped me out of the moment. I remembered that I had been in the middle of cooking. A distinct burning smell was starting to fill the kitchen. She let go of me to allow me run over to the stove and assess the damage. I quickly realized that it was beyond repair and I would have to start all over. With my eyes lowered to the ground, I let her know that dinner was going to be later than she had expected it.
"Did you make a mistake?" she asked.
"Yes, Miss. I got distracted." I admitted.