Domestica

He took her by the hair and dragged her to the kitchen. It was time for her to learn his definition of submission. He'd just about enough of her "Please flog me, please tie me down" attitude. It was during the first 5 minutes that might find her tempted to use her safe word. After that she'd be in too much ecstasy to talk.

He pushed her head down to the cupboard door below the sink... "Open them."

Her hands trembled; they'd never played in the kitchen before. And the last she's looked down there, there was nothing but garbage, cleaning supplies and pet supplies...

Concealed in the cupboard, and proof of his preparation for this moment, was a un-assuming pet food bag. "Pull out the Purina bag." They hadn't fed the animals Purina ever... this is probably why she never opened the bag.

As she pulled the bag out, she couldn't help but notice the trail of chain that it left behind. The bag had concealed the attachment of the chain to a strong eyebolt driven through the back wall of the cupboard and into a wall-stud. All she could think was "How long has this been here; how long has he been planning this?"

The bag contained steel manacles with locks that were open and ready to be closed. Deft movements shackled her legs into the unforgiving metal. She was so close to the cupboard that she was off balance and could do nothing but lean over the sink and present her behind to him.

"Excellent, just as I had hoped." In all honesty, he wondered if the restraint would have the desired effect; he'd never tested it with her.

The drawer full of cooking utensils was opened with his characteristic flourish and within minutes her buttocks were black and blue. Multiple cooking tools were strewn about the floor; some in pieces. He'd warmed her up nicely; truth be told he had her hot and distracted from the instant they had entered the kitchen.

"You know that you're going to have to clean up the mess after. This will be all your ecstasy and nothing but hard work for me." She didn't care.

Food came out of the refrigerator and pantry. After smearing on a half dozen different sauces and dipping and licking them off with various foods with brief pauses to break another wood spoon or plastic spatula on her ass, the extent of the mess she was going to face was starting to formulate in her mind.

Her safe word never even crossed her mind as he pulled the spray hose from beside the faucet and replaced the nozzle with a fountain syringe head...

She was his good girl.

The mess was atrocious but she was still tingling and wet when he returned from his walk to an immaculately clean kitchen. Still naked and manacled by the ankles with a now lengthened chain, she greeted him with a smile.

She was his good girl.

And as he sat down to a hot cup of tea and scones, he grinned and thought to himself, "Damn, it's hard work getting the kitchen clean."