Tom Brady came home with a weight in his step, satisfaction of a day's work well done. He unlocked his front door with hands that had grease under the fingernails and stepped through his door with shoulders wide enough to carry the responsibilities life gave him. It was a small row house that he came home to every day, and it was plenty of space for him and his girlfriend June. She was sitting in the front room eating dinner, still in the purple dress she had worn to her own job.
"Hey hun," she greeted, "Dinner's ready. How was your day?"
Tom smiled as he took off his boots in the entrance. "Same old. Changed oil. Fixed brakes. You?"
The brown-haired woman sighed, "Got told I was pretty for a chubby girl again."
"No manners," the ginger scoffed. He walked into the kitchen and did his best to get the dirt off his hands before making a plate of chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. All stuff that June could make in under 20 minutes but looked real nice after a shift.
His weight hit the couch easy, and soon enough the familiar drone of the newscaster filled the couple in on the news of the day while they ate and enjoyed a good sit. June would double check stories on her phone from time-to-time, seeing what facts the local news had left out or twisted. Tom nodded as she added in details, making his way through the food in front of him.
By the end of the newscast, two empty plates sat on the coffee table, and June was leaning into her boyfriend's chest. The streaming service tried to start up another episode, and June turned it back to the main menu.
"Did you enjoy your reward today?" she asked.
Tom grinned a little, "Yeah. No one caught on."
"You were worried?"
"A little."
"I told you, that's what belts are for."
"Oh, I thought they were for punishing naughty boys."
"You wish. The best punishment is not being allowed to play."
Tom tickled her a little, knowing she would use it as an excuse later for some devious fun. June laughed and fell over, her head in his lap.
"Do you want to play tonight?"
He nodded.
"Alright. Strip."
Tom started to unbutton his shirt. The summer heat made it a welcome reprieve. He wondered if the obvious smell of his sweat would put June off, but she was smiling deviously at him as she sat up again. He stood, dropping his shirt on the arm of the couch, and started to undo his belt. She was taking in every inch of him, indulging. Tom knew he was lucky, to come home to a woman who made him dinner and then looked at him hungry like that. It took the edge off the day, loosened his neck, made him comfortable.
After the belt came off, the mechanic removed his pants and socks. He turned to face june wearing nothing but a pair of pastel blue panties with a tiny white bow on the front. It held his dick snugly.
"You smell like a dirty man," June teased, "and is that what I think it is?" She lifted and eyebrow and placed a hand on his hip. "Someone made a wet spot." There was a small crusty spot on the front of his underwear, to be sure.
"Y-yes miss."
"What made you get wet?"
"It was lunch, and I reread your text messages from the other day."
"Did you come?"
"No."
"Good. Now," she leaned back again, "bring me dessert and clean the kitchen."
Within minutes Tom had brought his domme a small bowl of chocolate ice cream. She accepted it like nothing special and dug in. The TV was off. She would hear him working in the kitchen. Still in panties, he got to the task of putting all the extra food away. This meant washing their lunch boxes, packing lunches, unloading clean dishes, loading up dirty ones, and washing the pans June had used to make food.
What was normally a tiring task at the end of a long day was a lot more fun when it was foreplay. The air on Tom's bare thighs reminded him of how naked he was, and of the way June had been looking at him just moments before. Doing it right meant being good for her, and the idea that she might purr some well-earned praise in his ear made it worth minding the details.
Half an hour later, the kitchen was as clean as it was going to get, and Tom walked into the bedroom. June had finished her ice cream and gone there to get ready. She was waiting in a chair, reading something, legs crossed. He could've looked at those legs all day.
Without looking up, June asked, "Did you remember my ice cream bowl?"
He panicked a bit, "No, sorry."
June sighed and turned a page. "Go fix it."
