I emptied the grounds from my morning coffee, and added a new filter, filling it with French roast. I rinsed the pot, and added water to the machine. Once the coffee was on, I returned to the living room, and gathered the used toys, and transported them into the shower. Turning the water on, I pinned my hair up knowing I would not be allowed the time to dry it when I was out. Checking the water temperature, I added a slight amount of hot, and wandered into the kitchen. Finding the coffee pot half full, I slipped a mug under the stream of brewing liquid, and filled it from the pot. Doing a quick trade, I slipped the cup out, and the pot back on to let it finish. Adding milk and sugar to the cup, I carried it to the living room. He was lying on the couch with his eyes closed, so I pulled an end table over next to him, and set the coffee on it, before hurrying back to the shower.
I let the hot water run over my body, easing the gathering soreness from my flesh, relaxing for a long minute. Then I washed my skin with a mix of olive oil and chamomile sea salts to scent and soften my skin, and I shaved knowing it was on his radar now. I stepped out of the shower, drying myself, but letting the water run a moment longer on the toys. Unpinning my hair, I brushed it back from my face, and fought the urge to pull it into a pony tail, knowing he liked it loose. Turning off the shower, I pulled the toys out, one at a time, inspecting them to make sure they were clean, and then gathered them into my towel. I pulled on my silk robe, and returned with the towel wrapped toys to the living room.
He was sitting on the couch when I entered, and I noticed he had added several items to the end table while I had showered: spreader bar, rope, the bull whip, a penis gag, and my chastity belt. A frown must have passed over my lips as I surveyed the assortment, because he chuckled and mocked, "Don't pout pussycat, the point of punishment is that you don't like it. Lose the robe. I'm going to get another cup of coffee, and when I come back I want to see you lubing up your asshole in preparation for your chastity belt."
I grabbed the chair, and positioned it so when I leaned on it my ass faced the door. Picking the lube up off the table, I poured a generous amount on my fingers. Leaning on the chair, using my left arm for support, I reached between my legs and began rubbing the lube on my asshole, slipping the very tip of one finger in and out, not penetrating. I heard him move toward the living room, and stop in the doorway to watch me play with myself. When I knew I had his attention, I inserted the finger completely. I held it there for a long pause before removing it, replacing it with two fingers. Once they were buried in my ass, I spread them into a "V," and pulled them out stretching my asshole open as I removed them. I prepared to repeat, but he told me to stop.
Placing my hands on the chair, I waited.
I heard him draw near; tensing as I felt him wrap the belt around my waist, and inhaled sharply as he roughly inserted each dildo, the first into my pussy, and the second into my ass. I willed myself to calm, as he tightened the strap securing them in place. I hated the belt and he knew it. It gave constant stimulation, yet it was nearly impossible to achieve orgasm while wearing it.
"Turn, and sit in the chair," he commanded.
I did as I was told.
He moved behind me and chose another toy from the table. "Open your mouth," and as I did, he fixed the penis gag in it. "I am going to take a shower, and you are going to make breakfast," He announced walking out of the room.
I moved to the kitchen, slowly. The chastity belt causing a mix of pleasure and torment with each step. Slipping an apron over my head, I set myself to the task. I started olive oil heating in the skillet, and pulled a bag of hash browns from the freezer. I let the oil heat for another minute before adding half the bag to the pan.
Knowing they would brown better without supervision, I headed to the bedroom, and pulled out a pair of boxers and t-shirt, that he had abandoned when he left me, from my dresser. I headed to the bathroom, stopping to collect a clean towel from the linen closet. I slid silently into the bathroom, and placed my offering on the counter, next to the sink.
Returning to the kitchen, I flipped the hash browns, and pulled three eggs and the steak from my dinner out of the refrigerator. Adding butter to my cast iron frying pan, I turned the heat up high, hoping to sear the steak quickly, to heat it, but not cook it too much more. Hearing the shower stop, I grabbed a plate form the cupboard, and plated the potatoes. Lowering the heat on the skillet, I cracked the eggs into it. I threw the steak into the frying pan and seared it for a minute on each side, and placed it on the plate next to the hash browns. I then flipped the eggs, taking care not to break them, and lay them on top of the potatoes just as I heard the bathroom door open. I quickly rolled a fork and knife in a napkin, and removed my apron.
I appeared in the living room doorway, food in hand, just as he took his seat on the couch.
"Nicely done," he commended, as I handed him the plate. "Refill my coffee, and come sit by me."
When I returned, he had placed a pillow at his feet, so I moved to it, and tucked my legs underneath me.
"Turn your head. I am going to remove the gag while we eat." He ate in silence, occasionally sharing bites from his plate with me. Once he had finished, he handed me the plate, and stated, "The steak was overcooked, but the eggs were perfect...and use real potatoes next time."
"Yes, Sir," I replied, rising to take the plate to the kitchen.
"Wait," he said standing up, "Open your mouth, the gag is going back in."
He was standing in front of the closet holding a rope when I returned. I moved to stand before him, and held my hands in front of me as if in prayer. He circled the rope around my wrists and knotted it tightly. "Arms above your head, facing the door." He fed the rope over the top of the door, and tethered it firmly to an eye hook on the other side. I moved forward with the door, as he closed it. "Spread your legs," he directed as he fixed the restraints of the spreader bar around each ankle.
I stood anticipating, senses heightened against any suggestion of the first blow. When it fell, I was thankful for the gag. Pain seared my back from the passion of the stroke. I strained against the ropes that held me fast, the gag absorbing my scream. He gave me five more before pausing. Moving close to me, his hands ran lightly over my arms, my ribs, my hips. I concentrated on his kisses soothing the tension from my neck, my body melting into his, as I felt his arms encircle me possessively.
"You didn't come back to me," he explained, his voice husky in my ear. "I expected you back within a month...a fortnight actually...you're the first who didn't come back. That vexed me." His teeth sank into my shoulder brutally, punctuating his vexation. "But then I realized, you wouldn't, you couldn't. I told you I didn't want to see you again, and you obeyed."
The gag swallowed my whimper of disappointment as he moved away.
