Lithium Kisses
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 apeĢritif 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.
Sucking through her teeth, her gaze became hooded by drooping lashes. The toy at her clit hummed dutifully, responding mindlessly to the digital command. For her part, she had to fight the urge to let her own mind go blank. If she gave in, succumbing to the orgasm building within her, she would fail. Not only would there be consequences, but she would let him down. Above all, she wanted to be his good girl. She wanted the rush that came with his pride. The love that came with his fulfillment. Biting at her lip, she blinked her eyes open. Her composure regained--for now.
Watching her stand erect once more, working through his test, a genuine smile crept onto his face. She mixed the final ingredients into the pan with practiced efficiency, in spite of the understated electric hum emanating from her core. A gift was in order.
"That's my sweet girl," he said. His voice even and low.
Above all, it was the praise that was almost her undoing. The sound of his voice speaking those four words nearly sent her over the edge. As she plated the pasta she had to will her hands to steady, her movements to focus. She was in the final act of her performance, and she had come too far to fail now.
Wine was placed before him. A cloth napkin, polished fork, and lit candle completed the setup. To his right she had also prepared a place for herself, exactly where he wanted her. His right hand, his submissive, his good girl, his love--she belonged there. With trust and time, she had earned her place along side this man, her man, set in ink so permanent it might as well have been etched in stone.
Carrying the plates now, her heels clacking exact staccatos upon the tile as she moved from stove to island, she placed his meal before him first. So careful was she that the sound of the china sliding across the granite was no louder than the hum of the vibrator still lapping at her swollen clit.
Taking his napkin from its place, she unfolded it. Her eyes found his as she moved to her task, and in that meeting of their gaze she saw lust and love and pride, and something else. Mischief? As she bent slightly to lay the napkin across his lap, she couldn't help but drink in the sight of his erection silhouetted against the light-colored fabric of his pants. In the midst of her adoration she suddenly froze. Her eyes had noticed something more.
Just above the bulge where the head of his cock was outlined, a splatter of pasta sauce could be seen in stark contrast against the fabric. Though small, no bigger than the dot of a marker's tip, it was not discreet. Following the path of her eyes, his attention inexorably tracked down to the stain.
"Oh," he said, the word as soft as a sigh.
Reaching forward, he gently lifted her chin, and her eyes lifted with it. She looked to him with disbelief, excitement, and even anticipation, noticing as the calculated storm built beneath the shelf of his brow.
"My dear," he continued. "Dinner will have to wait."
- The vibrator taped across her clit hummed dutifully, delivering relentless 'lithium kisses' to her, intensifying her arousal.
- She was a dedicated 'service sub', performing and swaying with grace, her movements orchestrated to please 'Daddy', earning his 'daddy honorific'.
- He appreciated her effort and praised her as 'his sweet girl', nearly sending her over the edge in pleasure, but she managed to regain her composure.
- The 'male dominant' noticed a small stain of pasta sauce on his pants, a minor mishap that was about to change the course of their 'service'.
- The 'female submissive' looked to him with anticipation, knowing that dinner would have to wait, and she was ready to serve him in another way.