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The message had come during prestart. I was drinking instant coffee out of a disposable cup, the sun hadn’t quite come up yet, and the foreman was taking us through the plan for the day. Luckily, he was an engaging speaker, and it was dark, otherwise somebody might have noticed the tenting in my pants. Honestly, I doubt it would have been the first time if someone had noticed; it didn’t really take much nowadays.
It might sound strange, but I can’t exactly say the last time I was allowed an orgasm. It just didn’t feature much in my sex life anymore. I’d told her about this problem and asked for her help. Although it was quite embarrassing to tell her I was always getting hard at work, she just laughed. In fact, her days off often meant messages about the quality time she was spending with Simon — that’s what she called her new vibrator. It was also the name of her new personal trainer.
This message wasn’t like that though. This was different.
“When I get home, I expect to find you in the corner, hands behind your back, nose to the wall. Leave your phone and your watch on the kitchen table and your clothes in the washing basket.”
This wasn’t fun. This was trouble.
It must have been an hour at least — longer, probably. All I knew for sure was that it had gotten dark by the time I heard her get home. She hadn’t come to see me yet though. Straight into the shower, then I heard her padding around the kitchen in her bare feet.
It gave me more time to try and figure out what I’d done to disappoint her, although I’d thought of little else all day. I couldn’t figure it out. I’d got up extra early, made her the egg salad she’d requested, unpacked the dishwasher, then cleaned the kitchen behind me. I’d quickly checked when I got home — the kitchen was spotless.
Except for her breakfast bowl and coffee cup carelessly left on the kitchen table.
“I’m late, I know, and lucky for you,” she said. I’d heard her come into the room, then nothing until this.
“Simon had a slot for me at the gym and I was able to blow off some steam.”
“I’m sorry, Anna.”
Not goddess or Mistress. Those were for when she was in a good mood, when she wanted to play. Today wasn’t a game. She was upset. This was real.
“What are you sorry for?” she enquired.
I had no idea. I couldn’t even think.
After an awkward silence, she turned and left the room before returning. I heard a soft skittering sound. I looked down and saw she’d scattered raw rice at my feet all over the hardwood floor.
“Kneel,” she called over her shoulder as she left the room again.
I heard her in the next room on her phone. She was talking to her sister.
It can’t have been long, but it felt like an eternity before she came back and pulled up a chair behind me.
“You know I’m working hard with Simon to build more muscle mass,” she said. “I’ve told you how important it is as I approach my mid-forties. Part of that is eating more protein.”
I knew that. That’s why I’d made us egg salad for lunch. I was confused where this was going.
“I boiled four eggs. What happened to them?” she asked.
“I made you an egg salad for lunch,” I said hurriedly, a little relieved but still confused.
“You put four eggs in my salad?” she asked, as if she thought I might be a bit stupid.
“No, I had a salad too. I’ve been travelling to this job — you know that. I’m out of the house before five, and I just had the same lunch as you to save time,” I said, the rice really starting to bite.
“So instead of enjoying a simple salad, you put your needs before mine?” she asked, calm and in control.
“I was going to have those eggs after work, before I went to the gym.”
She moved closer now
“I’m getting stronger,” she said, “but you think you’re stronger than me. You think you can do what you want.”
She gently traced her finger down my arm from my shoulder to my wrist.
“I don’t like these muscles on you.”
She was more calculated now. More dangerous.
“I’ve been thinking about your physique. I want you slighter, less built. You don’t need these muscles to push a mop for me, do you? You don’t need them to massage my feet. I asked Simon, but of course he thinks I’m joking. What man wants less muscle? He said a mainly protein-free diet, with the addition of some legumes every other day coupled with cardio, would be a safe and healthy way to lose muscle mass.”
By now her hand had moved from my arm to my abdomen before snaking down to my cock and slowly stroking it to life.
“I think I like the idea of getting stronger while you get weaker, don’t you?” she whispered straight into my ear. “I think it would make all the difference to your attitude.”
I could hardly contain myself. My cock started leaking. Her touch was feather-light by now, but still I was struggling to hold on. I didn’t even dare think what would happen if I came without permission. I needed her to stop.
“Yes, Anna. Yes. Please. I’m sorry.”
She stopped, leaving me throbbing.
“Get up,” she said.
I turned to see she was naked, flushed.
“There’s steak in the fridge. Make a green salad for two to go with it. I’ll be ready for dinner in about forty-five minutes. I had a hard session with Simon this afternoon. I want some time alone to decompress.”
Before I’d even reached the kitchen, I heard the gentle buzz coming from her room.