Good Morning Sir 1

The shrill alarm intrudes upon my erotic dream of red and white silk ropes entwined around my upper body, forming a delicate lattice frame of love and bondage.

I whimper a complaint as your hand slaps my hip, then softly caresses the tingling flesh. You draw me further into your embrace; your hard cock wedged between the welcoming warm flesh of my ass as your hand slips from my hip to my bare pussy.

"My good little slut is wet and ready this morning," it is not a question. "Lift your leg," you command as you bite my ear lobe.

I lift my leg and moan softly as you inch slowly inside me. I try to push back against you, my actions begging you for more. "Please, sir," I whimper.

Your teeth bite down harder on my ear as one hand laces through my hair and jerks my head back against your shoulder. Your hand on my hip stills my futile attempts to take more of you.

"No, muffin, you don't control me," you growl as the hand on my hip moves across my soft tummy. I flinch at your caress as you chuckle, "I see we have more work to do on that issue." Your fingers pinch my flesh, "You still have not learned, women are meant to be soft." Your hand continues its journey upwards until it clasps my breast, squeezing and kneading.

Your hips surge forward, burying your cock fully in my wet cunt. I bite my lip to keep from crying out as I come hard around your throbbing flesh. "Soft...warm...wet...welcoming," your punctuate each adjective with a hard thrust inside of me, each one prolonging and intensifying my orgasm.

Your hands are driving me insane. You tug harder on my hair, tears glisten in the corner of my eyes. My head is pulled back at an odd angle, offering you unlimited access to my neck. I inhale deeply as your teeth sink into my flesh there, biting down so hard on my lower lip that I taste the metallic essence of my blood. You tweak and pull at my elongated nipple as you plunge harder and faster inside of me.

"Do not scream, slut," you growl against my neck. I can feel the heat of your breath against the cool, wetness where you had bitten and suckled. No doubt I would be wearing a turtle neck this day.

I try to nod, but your fingers in my hair prevent any movement. The tears slip over the edge as my body clinches tighter around your flesh. I feel myself slip deeper into the nothingness. Nothing exists anymore except your touch, your cock, your deep voice commanding my every move. I can barely breath in this space, instinctively matching even those most basic functions to yours.

"That's it, sweetheart. Take what you need, muffin," your hips pound against my ass, plunging so deeply inside of me that it becomes another level of pain and pleasure. You pinch my nipple and twist. My pussy contracts around you, milking and pleading, serving its master with pleasure.

Your fingers on my nipple. Your teeth on my neck. Your hand tugging at my hair. Your cock pressed against my cervix. The sensations war with one another. It becomes too much as I sink deeper into you. You surround me as I float towards heaven.

You groan against the throbbing flesh in my neck, "Fuck, yes, angel." Your body covers mine, your cock pressing even deeper. My disjointed mind wonders, 'how is that possible.' You bite down harder as I feel you come inside me.

Wet. Warm. Safe. Loved. I float softly back to reality, knowing you will be there to catch me. I close my eyes and land softly. Your hand in my hair has loosened. Now you are caress its red lengths. Your hand on my tit as slackened too, encircling my waist and holding me against you. I smile as I feel your cock twitch inside of me, triggering my own after shocks as the muscles of my pussy squeezes you a couple of times more.

"Good morning, princess," you murmur against my neck.

I blush at the deep contented rumble of your voice. Did I do that? Did I pleasure you half as much as you did me? "Good morning, sir," I whisper with my eyes still down.

I feel your fingers on my chin as you lift my face to yours. "Yes, you pleased me," you smile. My brow scrunches in a frown. How did you know? Are even my thoughts yours to control know? You tweak my nose and brush a light kiss across my lips, "Yes, all of you."

You draw back slowly and look deep into my eyes, "But right now, we both need to get out of this bed or I'm going to be late and the kids are going to get one hell of a show when they wake up." You slap lightly at my bottom, "Kitchen, now."

"Yes, sir," I whisper as I reach for the silk robe at the foot of our bed. "Pancakes or bacon and eggs?" I ask.

"Pancakes and bacon, muffin," your voice caresses my skin even more than the silk. "I'll be down after my shower."

I nod and slip quietly from our bedroom. My brow furrows once more. "Pancakes and bacon," I murmur. I smile as I glory in my freedom. I know those not in our world would never understand how liberating it is not to have to make even that simple decision. But after a quarter of a century of decisions, big and small, I revel in my surrender.

I tap lightly on the girls' bedroom door, peaking my head through it. I smile as I watch your daughter stretch, she is so much like you. I wink at her as I walk to Ems' bed. "Rise and shine, sweetie girl," I say as I shake her shoulder gently. She rolls over and looks up at me, "Five more minutes, Mommy?"

Her big sister laughs, "Don't worry. I won't let her sleep too long." I smile and nod. 'Yes, most definitely your daughter,' I think. Always strong, always in control, always taking care of others. I slip from the room, knowing that is one more thing I don't need to worry about.

I smile as I mix the pancake batter. How different my world is from this time last year. The structure, the order, knowing there is always someone there to catch you when you fall. I fight back tears of happiness as I take the last of the bacon from the pan. I reach for the griddle and replace it on the burner.

I shake my head and swat at your fingers as you sneak a piece of the bacon from the plate. Your hand lands soundly on my bottom. I feel the sting of the blow through the soft material and bite back a moan. "Don't forget your place," you chide playfully as I pour batter onto the hot griddle.

"Yes, sir," I whisper as I flip the pancakes.

I sneak a peak at you in your uniform. I am never sure which I find sexier, full uniform or absolutely nothing? Of course, leather pants and vest battles with both of them.

You chuckle, "Like what you see, darling?"

I plate the first of the pancakes and add several pieces of bacon. My eyes down I pass it to you. You take the plate with one hand and lift my face to yours with the other. "I asked you a question."

I nodded, but your growl reminds me to use my voice. "Yes, sir."

The smile that spreads across your handsome face takes my breath away. "You can be damned glad that the kids will be down any minute or I'd have to kneeling right now."

"As you wish, sir," I whisper.

"Don't tempt me to take this back upstairs, woman," you tease with another light slap on my bottom before taking your place at the head of the table.

The kids rush into the room like a hurricane as I prepare more plates of pancakes and bacon. I begin to straighten the counter top and clean up as I feel your breath caress the side of my neck. I can feel the bruised flesh that is hidden just under the collar of my robe throb in answer, pleading for your attention.

"What's your plans today?" you ask as you slip your plate into the soapy water. For a moment, I am taken away from everything again as our fingers wrestle under the bubbles. How can something so ordinary be so erotic, I wonder.

I shake my head, trying to remember your question. Plans? "Nothing much, write some more this morning. Then lunch with a couple of the other wives. Pick the kids up from school. Make dinner. The usual."

You nodded as you steal the last piece of bacon from the plate next to the stove. "Pot roast. And if you're going out don't forget your collar. How close are you to finishing this one?"

I giggle at how you sandwiched your order between two such ordinary comments. "Another couple of chapters and it will be ready for edits. Pot roast it is then. I'll lay it out now. And of course, I would never forget that, sir."

You touch my cheek softly as the low den of noise begins to rise from the table, "Ten minutes. You have ten minutes to brush your teeth, grab your coats and back packs and be at the car. I'm taking you to school today. Your mother is busy."

I cannot help smiling at the way you took control without even taking your eyes from mine. You bend and kiss my lips as your fingers caress mine. I feel you twirling the gold band there as if reminding me that it is the least of our commitments to one another. A stupid nod to conventionality that pales in comparison to the depths of our other bond.

You pull back slowly and smile at me. "I'll lay out what you are wearing before I go. I mean it, don't leave this house without the necklace."

I nod, "Never, sir."

I turn back to the breakfast dishes as I hear you and the children rushing about finishing the last of the morning preparations. I frown. Is something wrong with me? How can an otherwise intelligent and strong willed woman actually enjoy having someone else make even the simplest decisions such as what to wear or cook for her? It does not make sense. No one outside of the BDSM community would ever understand.

But after a lifetime as a professional and single mother, the stress of so many decisions and responsibilities had begun to eat away at my very soul. I was exhausted, tired physically and mentally. Until a friend began to share with me her experiences as a submissive. I had listened and questioned. Then I read. More and more. Until finally, I took the plunge. More like wadded in, actually. Joining FetLife and continuing my journey of discovery.

I feel another stinging blow to my ass through the silk robe. "Did I give you permission to get lost in your thoughts?" you growl as you draw me into your arms and press me against you.

"No, sir," I murmur.

"Eyes up, woman," you command me as easily as you do others at work. I do not even hesitate to look into the depths of your soul.

"Stop it. Don't let them get to you today. Write. Pour your soul into that story. Then enjoy your girl time before these monsters take back over. But hear me now. I will know if you have spent the day in that pretty little mind of yours." You bend and kiss me again before another sound smack lands on the other cheek, "And there will be consequences tonight."

"Yes, sir," I whisper as the children rush into the kitchen. I help them with coats and back packs, kissing each one of the cheek before they slip out the door, rushing to the car. I hear lilts of 'shot gun' as they begin to argue.

"Have a good day, sir," I say as I stand on tip toe to kiss your cheek.

"They are all good since you came into my life, woman," you whisper against my lips as you disappear into the blazing sun of another good morning.