Author's Note: This is a story in a series of short tales I'm calling 5-Minute Submissions (pun very much intended). The goal is to have a fun and sensual read that you can devour in approximately 5 minutes. I do hope you enjoy.
Butter and olive oil had come first. Garlic and grape tomatoes next. Each ingredient was meticulously placed on the large white granite, in order of its use, flanking the clean burners of the gas range. The dish tonight was pasta with tomatoes and garlic in white wine sauce, but the occasion was no minor meal. Service was on the menu, and perfection was its metric.
From his vantage point seated at the kitchen island facing the range, she was an exquisite apéritif before the meal to come. He drank her in, intoxicated by what the expertly tied sundress revealed of her round ass and feminine legs. The garment had been placed by his careful hands before service had begun, the flowing fabric lifted at the back and entwined with the canvas belt of the cooking apron, so while the dress appeared normal when viewed from the front, from behind the submissive was bare from her hips down to the red soles of her Christian Louboutin heels.
She knew his gaze was fixated upon her, and her heart quickened in adoration and lust as she performed for him--a doll playing house. Standing slightly on her toes, she lent forward to brush a nonexistent crumb from the range's backsplash. The ripple of her hamstrings, the lift of her calves, and the pert bounce of her ass as she returned to her heels were orchestrated gifts delivered just for Daddy. She was confident her practice in the mirror earlier that day would please him, and she blushed at the thought.
He stifled the growl of pleasure in his throat, biting at his cheek as he watched her move. She was a dutiful student of his wants, and it was showing. Above the crackle of the oil and butter in the pan, he could just make out the hum of the Bluetooth vibrator taped across her clit. Her tip-toed performance, coupled with the knowledge that the device was giving her relentless lithium kisses, made his cock strain against the pressed creases of his dress pants.
Tapping on his phone screen, he manipulated an app. In the span of a second the wooden spoon stirring at the sauce faltered in her grip. Her hips swayed as the joints of her knees came together. Atop the ivory granite the blood-hued nails of her free hand clawed at the polished surface of the counter.
Sir was testing her. Torturing her with pleasure, beckoning her body to disaster.
