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Dinner Time


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you answer the phone, “Hello?”

“Hi there. How’s my favorite slut?”

“i’m good.” I can hear you smiling. “How was work?” you ask.

“It was good. I’m getting ready to leave now. Don’t make anything for dinner. I’m picking up sushi on the way home.”

“Oooh! Can i get a dragon roll?”


“And a crab roll?”

“Sure. you want edamame?”

“Yesss. Thank You!”

“you’re welcome.”

We talk for a little bit – mostly about the day and some about the upcoming weekend. Eventually we hang up and I continue on to the restaurant.


When I get home, you’re already there and you’ve had enough time to change and put on a collar. you’ve also already set up the dining room table. But I flip the script on you.


I set things down on the counter. you find me and say hi, and we talk for a few more minutes. I finally tell you, “I’m going to take a shower and get changed. I want you to start eating.”

“i don’t mind waiting for You.”

“No, I want you to get started. I’ll eat after I shower and change.”

“Why?” you catch yourself. “i mean, i will, i’m just curious is all.”

“Because for dinner, you are having sushi and I am having nyotaimori.”

“What’s that?”

I smile, “you’ll see. Go ahead and get started.”


I begin my shower while you unpack the food. you see your dragon roll, crab roll, and edamame. you look at what else is in the bag to see if you can figure out what nyotaimori is, but all you see are regular sushi rolls and a couple pieces of nigiri. So you grab your food. you don’t think to Google nyotaimori, you just sit down at the table and start eating. A short while later, you finish and you clean up after yourself right about the same time you hear me coming into the kitchen.


I ask, “Are you all finished?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Is your belly full?”

you smile, “Yes, Sir.”

“Was it good?”

“Good.” I give you a little kiss. “I want you to go turn the TV on and pull up Netflix. I’m going to eat on the couch tonight.”

“Oh… okay.”


you tend to the TV while I get my food ready. I open a cupboard and pull out a miniature, shallow, porcelain, Japanese, sauce bowl. I grab the soy sauce from the fridge and start bringing everything out to the living room. you’re sitting on the couch with the remote next to you. Netflix is already up and on the home screen.


Now comes the fun part. I tell you to undress completely and lie down on the coffee table face up. you start to grin as you put the pieces of the puzzle together. Now you know what nyotaimori is. you obey. Once you are on the coffee table with your arms straight by your side, I scoot the coffee table closer to the couch and begin separating the sushi rolls and strategically place them and the pieces of nigiri all over your tummy and chest. Finally, I place the empty shallow sauce dish directly on top of your belly button.


I pour some soy sauce into the dish almost up to the top, but not quite. Even though you’re breathing and your belly is going up and down gently, it’s not erratic enough to spill the soy sauce. Then I tell you, “Here’s the important part. I am trusting you to not spill my soy sauce. you hear me? I don’t want you to spill one drop. If you do, I’ll have to wipe it up with a napkin, and if I do that, you get a point. There will be a fine for every point you accumulate. So it’s kind of like golf – the fewer the points you get, the better off you’ll be. you understand?”


you grin with a certain confidence, “Yes, Sir. i got this.”

“Yeah? you sure?”

“Oh yeah, i’m the bomb-diggity. i sooo got this,” you say, smiling.

Then your face becomes stoic and you slowly exhale a long, determined breath, as if to say, “i’m ready.”


I find a show on Netflix and press play. I then tell you, “That’s good. Because tonight we’re going to be watching Iliza Shlesinger’s stand up comedy special.”

“Oh i love her, she’s greaaaaa… ohhhh fuuuuck.”

It’s fun watching the horror spread across your face as reality slaps you like a dead fish. “you are a sadistic Master,” you proclaim. I start laughing, “Yes, yes I am.” I’m laughing because I don’t have to worry about spilling the soy sauce. you on the other hand are already starting to laugh at the pure devilishness of this exercise. you’re gritting your teeth, pursing your lips, and slowly shaking your head back and forth. Then with a measure of very impressive determination, you begin nodding your head up and down and saying, “That’s okay. That’s okay. i got this. It’s alright. i’m gonna own this. i’m gonna make this exercise my bitch.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah!”

“Alright, that’s good to hear. I love your enthusiasm.”

“Yep, i’m ready.”

“Well good timing, because she’s coming on stage now.”


She opens with some jokes about the city they filmed the special in. Although they are directed toward San Francisco, the jokes are universally relatable. your stomach starts bouncing up and down lightly as you silently laugh, trying to control it but knowing you may as well just abandon all hope. The first few drops of soy sauce splash over the rim and fall on your skin. Of course I see it. That’s what I’ve been waiting for. I grab a napkin from the stack I brought from the kitchen and use it to wipe up the soy sauce off your body.

“Looks like you spilled some,” I announce while smiling.

“I knooow. I can feel it,” you say, half-giggling.


I crumple up the napkin and set it off to the side. you do good for a couple minutes, keeping an almost straight face, but then Iliza switches to talking about her last boyfriend. She hits the punchline and you bust out laughing. Soy sauce goes everywhere. It’s running down your side and dripping on to the coffee table. I grab another napkin, wipe it all up, crumple up the napkin and set it off to the side.


“Guess what, my little fuck doll.”


“you spilled so much that time that I have to refill the dish.”

“Noooooo! There’s still some in there. Please!” you plead, laughingly, hopefully, even though you already know what my answer will be.

“Sorry, little bitch. Them’s the rules.” I grin while finding eye contact with you.

“Okay, okay, but wait… just don’t fill it up all the way. Just fill it up half way.”

I tilt my head back and laugh out loud. I look back at you, “Now, do you really think I would only fill it up half way?”

“It’s worth asking???”

“I applaud your effort.”

I fill it up to the rim. you gently lift your head not wanting to spill the soy sauce, but still wanting to see how full the small, porcelain dish is.


“Oh no, i’m not gonna make it,” you admit.

“I’m sure you’ll do your best.” I give you a wink.


Iliza starts talking about a job she had before going into standup. She gets to the part where she’s ready to wrap it up, “…turns out, you actually CAN get fired for stuffing a bag of doughnuts down your pants.” The audience laughs, you laugh, and soy sauce spills. I grab a napkin and wipe it up.


Another joke, another laugh, another napkin. On and on we go until I have finished eating dinner, the comedy special is over, and the credits are rolling. I clean you up and wipe you down because you are my toy and I always clean my toys. you peek down at the floor and note, “my god, that’s a lot of napkins.”


“Now comes the best part,” I tell you.

“What comes next?”

“Well, now you have to pay the price for your carelessness.”

you knew this part was coming, but you were maybe hoping that I might have forgotten. But no, I wouldn’t forget something like that. you breathe out a sigh, “Yes, Sir. What do I need to do?”

“I want you to stay naked, go into the bedroom, and put on your wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs. Then get on the bed and lie down, face up, and wait for Me there.” I finish up in the kitchen then make my way to the bedroom where I find you already in position.


I clip all four of your cuffs on to each of the straps connected to the corners of the bed. I tell you, “Now wait right there,” as if you had a choice. I go back out to the living room and return with a cardboard box. I turn it upside down over the bed and all the crumpled up napkins fall out onto the bed. Then I enlighten you.

“That’s a lot of napkins,” I say.


“Do you know what we’re going to do with all of these?”


“We’re going to count them. And however many there are, that’s how many minutes you are going to have to endure your punishment. Are you ready?”

“No.” you are hoping for a stay of execution, but there will be no such mercy tonight.
“Too bad,” I say, smirking at you.


I start picking up the napkins one by one and put them back in the box while counting out loud. “One, two, three…” the counting continues, “fourteen, fifteen,” the tally rises, “twenty, and last but not least, twenty-one.” After a brief pause, I remind you, “Okay, you have twenty-one minutes of punishment to look forward to.


As I set the box off to the side and glance at the clock, the gears in your mind are already starting to turn. you’re trying to figure out how difficult this will be. you reason with yourself that it will all depend on what the punishment is. If it’s impact play, you decide it will go by pretty quickly because you’re pretty tough and that’s one of your favorite punishments. However, you remember the time I made you sit in the corner wearing headphones, and I piped in mariachi music for half an hour. you did not like that one at all, not one bit. So you’re not really sure what to expect. It could be anything.


I stand over you, admiring you, enjoying your shape, enjoying seeing you tied down, helpless, not knowing what’s about to happen next. you look so fucking delicious. I can’t help it, I have to touch you. I start running my fingertips across your body, gliding my hands across your skin. As I explore you like unmapped territory, I periodically grip your legs or grab palmfuls of your breasts. I slowly trace lines down to your ankles, then I begin pushing my hands up the outside of your legs. As I make my way up the outsides of your calves and your knees in no hurry at all, you tilt your chin down so you can see my hands better. As my hands slide up the outside of your thighs and hips, you say in a believe-me-I’m-not-complaining type of voice, “This doesn’t feel like punishment.” My hands flow up your waist and on to your ribs as I tell you, “Well, you know me… I love it when the punishment fits the crime. And since you wanted to laugh so much during dinner…”


Color drains from your face. “nooooOOOOOO!!!! please, please, PLEASE NOOOOOO!!!” I start tickling your armpits. Oh yes, the punishment has begun.  you start laughing and giggling and squealing. I love seeing you react and thrash around, trapped. I tickle your ribs as all your limbs contract, trying desperately to protect the target area, but it’s no use, you’re strapped in. After a couple minutes I stop to let you catch your breath, but only after a slight reprieve, I begin working the bottoms of your feet. your legs are just-a-kickin’ as you squirm, hoping to dodge my fingers. But of course, your efforts are futile. I find all your tickle spots. I already knew where they were. you squeal, plead, and bargain. you offer trades in exchange for me stopping. I laugh and ignore you.


A few minutes later, I give you a short break as I look you in the eyes. your face is a reflection of your body in the sense that you have the biggest smile even though you despise Me right now. you love this and hate this at the same time; it feels good, but you wish it would stop. As your breathing starts to slow a little, your smile starts to fade just a little bit – just enough for you to be able to force your pouty lips and give me your puppy dog eyes, hoping you’ll convince to me have mercy on your soul, and your body. To which I respond, “Oh you sweet, precious, little bitch. you’re right… I have completely neglected one of your favorite spots – underneath your chin.” you get an ‘uh-oh’ look on your face and quickly perform your best turtle impression, tucking your chin as deep into your collar bone as you can. But it doesn’t matter. I find your buttons, and I push them, over and over and over.


I continue the cycles of unfathomably cruel ecstasy intertwined with short breaks. I love the moments when you try to bury yourself deep into the mattress, as if you can get away from Me. you are so cute for trying. I love watching your face change throughout the phases of your punishment. Smiling because you can’t help it, looks of panic because you’re anticipating what’s coming next, smiling because I’ve given you a break and your body is slowing down. Smiling, laughing, begging, smiling, squealing, squirming, smiling… such a beautiful soundtrack for tonight’s activities.


I continue the attacks from all angles, my hands swooping down, dive-bombing, like a bird taunting a cat. I strafe your body, strategically tickling the spots that get the most reaction, then switching to areas that aren’t as ticklish just to give you a false sense of hope, then returning to my favorite targets. you arch, writhe, and twist. And I love all of it.


After what seems like a never-ending nightmare, I straddle over your hips, raise my hands high in the air and start wiggling my fingers as I announce, “And now for the big finale.” you see me looking straight at your armpits as you start to get worried. Then all of a sudden I look over at the clock and say, “Aw shit. We just hit twenty-one minutes.”

“Wait, what? Are you serious?”

“Yep. It’s been twenty-one minutes.”

“So it’s over? Punishment is over?” you ask, hopefully.

“Yep. you’re all done,” I tell you, while smiling.

With heavy breaths, you exclaim, “Omigod. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“you did almost good. you handled that well. Sort of,” I say while laughing.

you start laughing again, “Yeah, right. whatever. I was in hell,” and you give out a few small laughs.

“Well, because you made it through, I think you deserve a little treat.”

“Oh? Okay. I like treats.”

“I know you do.” I confirm with a wink.


I let you settle down a little bit while running my hands over your body, not tickling you, just soothing you, letting you return to neutral. After a couple minutes, I purposely slow things down and give you a few light kisses on the lips… then on your neck. I swirl my tongue on the side of your neck, then kiss your chest. I slowly begin making my way down between your breasts. your smile quickly fades, your jaw opens a little. you close your eyes, take a deep breath, and tilt your head back slightly. your mind knows that you can lie back, relax, and enjoy the ride now.


I take my time enjoying you as I kiss a trail down your stomach. I begin making out with your orchid. With your eyes closed, you start smiling again. Except, it’s for a whole different reason this time.



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