“See to it that you don’t,” came your only remark as you reached behind me and unclasped my wrists from each other and removed each wrist cuff. Bending down, you released my feet from the spreader bar. I moved to bring my feet closer together so that I could leave the room and head for the kitchen, but your hands on my thighs stopped me.

Immediately I began to tremble in anticipation as I felt your warm breath between my legs. “And just to keep you ready,” you whispered, leaning in closer to me, your tongue snaked out of your mouth and traced a feathery line along my pussy lips. I shuddered and thrust my hips forward to meet you, running my fingers through your hair, urging you closer. You reached your hand around behind me and smacked me hard on the ass, causing me to yelp with pain and jump back. “Don’t push your luck, slave,” you growled. “Stand still, hands at your side.”

I stood still immediately and dropped my hands to my side, clasping my thighs to keep them from moving. I exhaled in a sigh as you stood and moved away from me to the dresser. I didn’t dare move and stood still until you returned to kneel, once again, in front of me. Your tongue flickered again at my clit, pressing against it and alternating between little nips of your teeth as my clit hardened and stood at attention. “That’s it, slut,” you praised as I heard a distinct clicking in your hand as you lifted it. “This will keep you in the perfect state all day,” you commented as you slipped the clitty clamp over my sensitive nub, and tightened it.

I groaned in pure ecstasy and pure frustration as you fastened the clip to me. Knowing I would not be permitted to touch myself brought on a fresh wave of tears as you stood to gather my leather collar from the dresser and re-attach it and my collar to me. “Come,” you ordered as you yanked on my collar and led me to the kitchen.

“Prepare me an omelette whore,” you snarled as you dropped my leash and immediately exited the kitchen. Feeling deflated at your apparent lack of caring, I sighed deeply and opened the fridge, gathering the ingredients for you omelette. Shortly thereafter, I picked up two plates, dished up with omelette and garnished with a small bowl of yogurt as well as several slices of fresh cut fruit. Squaring my shoulders and throwing them back to display my breasts to their best advantage, I carefully made my way to the dining room table. “Master,” I called in a sing-song voice as I carefully placed both plates on the table and sat down in my regular chair, “breakfast is ready, Sir.”

I smile at you, expectantly, as you enter the dining room, but seeing me sitting at the table, you scowl. Without saying a word you sit down, reach out and pick up my plate, placing it on the floor beside you. I let out a breath and hung my head, knowing what was to come. I sat silently as you picked up your fork to sample the breakfast I had prepared. “Are you hungry?” I risked a look straight into your eyes as I whispered in answer, “yes Master.”

Like lightening, your arm flashed out and your hand grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking hard and pulling me off balance from the chair I sat in. I fell to the floor at your feet, my knee smashing into the plate that held my breakfast…the one you had placed on the floor earlier. I landed with an undignified gasp of shock and tried, unsuccessfully to get up again. As I pushed my hands to floor to leverage myself to rise, your hand pushed equally as hard on my back between my shoulder blades to keep me on the floor.

Unaccustomed to this feeling, I found myself laughing with disbelief. Thinking you were joking, I scoffed, laughing, “let me up!”

Your hand pushed roughly on my back, forcing my face into the plate on the floor. “I would suggest slave,” you stated clearly and concisely, “that if you are hungry, you take advantage of this time to nourish yourself. It may not come again,” you warned ominously.

Shocked, I lifted my head to look at you questioningly. Never once, in all the years that I had been your slave, had you ever denied me the simple right to eat at the table with you. You did not say a word, simply pointed at the plate with one hand as you carried on eating, reminding me once again, “the chance to nourish yourself may not come again soon, slut,”

Shuddering and feeling a new chill creep into my bones, I looked down at the plate in front of me and then back at you. Realizing that you had nothing more to say, I looked back at the plate again, and ashamedly reached out to take a small piece of the omelette in one hand. As my hand neared my mouth, yours swooped down to smack the food back onto the plate. “No hands,” was all you growled.

Swallowing deeply as I resigned myself to my new fate, I lowered my head to the plate, trying to take a small bite of the food that was quickly growing cold. In doing so, my ass was thrust high the air and as we took a bite in unison, your free hand smacked down hard on my ass cheek, reminding me, as if I needed it, that I was being punished. I cringed as my ass cheek stung and I struggled not to gag as the now cold omelette slid down my throat. “Eat up, pet,” you encouraged, “it will be all you get this day.” As your final warning kicked in, I leaned forward once more, and bit into my cold, but nourishing breakfast. Gagging down the cold eggs, I swallowed as much as I could and then, defeated, laid my head on the carpet beside your feet, awaiting your command to clean.

In an unexpected moment of tenderness, your hand reached down to stroke my hair as you gazed upon me, resting at your feet. Reaching back to the table, you grabbed your coffee and lowered the cup to me, “have some pet,” you whispered gently, and I reached up to take the mug from your hand. Recognizing my intention, you withdrew the offer, pulling back, until I realized that my hands once again would not be permitted. Looking up at you with soft eyes, I leaned forward with my tongue extended and began to lap carefully at the coffee you offered. “That’s it, kitten,” you whispered, and watched me for a moment, with loving eyes.

Suddenly, the moment broken, you pushed yourself away from the table and stood. “Get to work, slave” you commanded, “and don’t even think about touching yourself,” came your final comment as you left the room, and left me to carry out your orders from earlier.

Knowing that you would settle for nothing less, I scurried around cleaning up from breakfast and then set to work making some snacks for the guests that would be coming over this evening. I had no idea who you had invited, but I knew that it did not matter and that your expectation would be that I put together a good array of different foods so that everyone would find something they would like.

My clit, still clipped, throbbed in exquisite torture each time I took a step, keeping me aroused and frustrated. I was so tempted to reach down and relieve myself and I considered it lengthily, listening carefully to determine where in the house you were and watching to see if you appeared. I couldn’t hear anything that would indicate where you were, nor had I seen you since you left the breakfast table. Finally, I could stand it no longer, and slowly I reached my hand down my stomach, my fingers stretched out as I moved them closer and closer. Biting my bottom lip and glancing around furtively, I let my middle finger tap lightly on my engorged clit. Ohhh, it felt so good. Whimpering, and summoning every ounce of self-control I had ever had, I tore my finger away as my eyes welled up with tears of frustration and longing.

After washing my hands, I continued preparing the snacks for tonight. Glancing at the clock as I finished the clean up, I was surprised to see it was already early afternoon and I knew I had better hurry and get the rest of the cleaning done. I had no idea what time to expect people to arrive. I rushed through the house quickly, straightening each room as I went so that no matter where you chose to entertain, it wouldn’t matter. I took special care in the games room and in the play room as you had requested. Assuming that you and I would be spending another evening in the play room after the departure of your guests, I again laid out all your favorite items, hoping you would be pleased. With a final glance around, I nodded to myself and stepped out of the play room, pulling the door closed behind me.

“Master?” I called out as I climbed the stairs. “Master, where are you?” I walked from room to room, peeking in to find you but was not having any luck. As I entered the bedroom and crossed to the bathroom, you came up behind me suddenly and unexpectedly. You reached around me from behind and grabbed my breasts roughly, pinching my nipples tightly as you leaned into my neck and nipped at my shoulder. I grew wet immediately and as I turned my head to look at you, you dove in to cover my mouth in a ruthlessly demanding kiss.