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Authors: Sabrina York
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he’d have learned by now.
She entered the house through the garage and dumped the bags
on the counter. When she saw a note and a wrapped package on the butcher’s
block, her heart skittered.
The envelope was addressed to “my slave”. Bella laughed and
opened it.
Tae was certainly enjoying this.
The note inside was a numbered list. The first item made her
laughter falter. Strip naked and put on the apron—panties on the counter. She frowned at the package. The apron? She tore it open and grimaced. It was an apron.
Ick.
It was a lovely apron, made of delicate white lace, long
enough to cover her upper thighs, but only just. And while it was quite pretty,
it was so domesticated . It screamed dutiful wife .
But if that was Tae’s fantasy…
She closed the curtains in the kitchen and slipped out of
her business suit and, because he would expect it, her bra. But she left her
heels on. He’d like that.
As he commanded, she took off her panties, wincing as she
eased them out of her slit. They were wet. They’d sawed on her nerves all day.
She grimaced and dropped them on the countertop.
Bella slipped the loop of the apron over her head and let it
fall. Oh, innocent and sweet, it seemed. It was deceptive. The lace, as it
settled over her nipples, was harsh, scraping at her sanity. She ignored the
tremor that passed through her and picked up the list again. It was kind of
long. She knew she had to get it all done before he got home.
Or else.
The next item was fairly simple. Scrub and chop the
celery. Well, it was easy once she found the vegetable brush. And the
cutting board. And a knife. She didn’t spend a lot of time in the kitchen,
after all.
Then she had to wash and peel the potatoes and cut them into
little cubes.
She diligently followed the list, slicing the onions and
peeling the carrots and then…
The next item nearly made her drop the peeler. Oil up one
of those carrots and slip it into your ass. Chop the rest.
Damn, he was specific.
She glared at the carrots arranged on the butcher’s block.
She was tempted to take the smallest one but she knew better. Instead, she
picked out the fattest—a true beast. If she’d only known where it was going,
she’d have been more careful in her selection at the store.
Slowly, she lubed it up with the vegetable oil and, wincing,
eased it into her ass. Lord, it was big. And hard. And cold. She clenched
around it and it bobbled. She braced herself against the butcher’s block,
trying desperately to relax. Once she regained her equilibrium, or some
semblance of it, she chopped the other carrots and smoothed them into a pile.
All the while she was aware of the hard invader, the
pressure in her ass.
Trembling, she picked up the list again. The next item said, Take two fingers of cream cheese and smear it all over your clit .
She glared at the cream cheese. It was a hard block—and
cold, as it had come straight from the dairy case. But she complied, moaning
and twitching as the thick, cool cream mingled with her own. Her clit was cold
and burning hot at the same time.
Damn Tae , she thought. He better get home soon.
He had other tasks for her—opening the merlot to let it
breathe, making a roux of sour cream and broth. Each chore was excruciating
because all she could really focus on was the fat rod up her ass and the cream
cheese melting on her thighs.
By the time she heard the garage door rumble open, she was
ready to crumble.
Chapter Eight
When he came through the door, she trembled. She knew what
he saw. His obedient slave standing there in the kitchen, sautéing
vegetables—with a carrot poking out of her pucker—wearing nothing but the lace
apron and heels.
He whistled. “Now that’s hot.” He dropped his briefcase by
the door and sauntered over to kiss her. He picked her panties up off the
counter and sniffed them. “Umm. They’re wet.”
She snorted in response.
He grinned. “Smells great. How’s dinner coming?”
She glared at
She entered the house through the garage and dumped the bags
on the counter. When she saw a note and a wrapped package on the butcher’s
block, her heart skittered.
The envelope was addressed to “my slave”. Bella laughed and
opened it.
Tae was certainly enjoying this.
The note inside was a numbered list. The first item made her
laughter falter. Strip naked and put on the apron—panties on the counter. She frowned at the package. The apron? She tore it open and grimaced. It was an apron.
Ick.
It was a lovely apron, made of delicate white lace, long
enough to cover her upper thighs, but only just. And while it was quite pretty,
it was so domesticated . It screamed dutiful wife .
But if that was Tae’s fantasy…
She closed the curtains in the kitchen and slipped out of
her business suit and, because he would expect it, her bra. But she left her
heels on. He’d like that.
As he commanded, she took off her panties, wincing as she
eased them out of her slit. They were wet. They’d sawed on her nerves all day.
She grimaced and dropped them on the countertop.
Bella slipped the loop of the apron over her head and let it
fall. Oh, innocent and sweet, it seemed. It was deceptive. The lace, as it
settled over her nipples, was harsh, scraping at her sanity. She ignored the
tremor that passed through her and picked up the list again. It was kind of
long. She knew she had to get it all done before he got home.
Or else.
The next item was fairly simple. Scrub and chop the
celery. Well, it was easy once she found the vegetable brush. And the
cutting board. And a knife. She didn’t spend a lot of time in the kitchen,
after all.
Then she had to wash and peel the potatoes and cut them into
little cubes.
She diligently followed the list, slicing the onions and
peeling the carrots and then…
The next item nearly made her drop the peeler. Oil up one
of those carrots and slip it into your ass. Chop the rest.
Damn, he was specific.
She glared at the carrots arranged on the butcher’s block.
She was tempted to take the smallest one but she knew better. Instead, she
picked out the fattest—a true beast. If she’d only known where it was going,
she’d have been more careful in her selection at the store.
Slowly, she lubed it up with the vegetable oil and, wincing,
eased it into her ass. Lord, it was big. And hard. And cold. She clenched
around it and it bobbled. She braced herself against the butcher’s block,
trying desperately to relax. Once she regained her equilibrium, or some
semblance of it, she chopped the other carrots and smoothed them into a pile.
All the while she was aware of the hard invader, the
pressure in her ass.
Trembling, she picked up the list again. The next item said, Take two fingers of cream cheese and smear it all over your clit .
She glared at the cream cheese. It was a hard block—and
cold, as it had come straight from the dairy case. But she complied, moaning
and twitching as the thick, cool cream mingled with her own. Her clit was cold
and burning hot at the same time.
Damn Tae , she thought. He better get home soon.
He had other tasks for her—opening the merlot to let it
breathe, making a roux of sour cream and broth. Each chore was excruciating
because all she could really focus on was the fat rod up her ass and the cream
cheese melting on her thighs.
By the time she heard the garage door rumble open, she was
ready to crumble.
Chapter Eight
When he came through the door, she trembled. She knew what
he saw. His obedient slave standing there in the kitchen, sautéing
vegetables—with a carrot poking out of her pucker—wearing nothing but the lace
apron and heels.
He whistled. “Now that’s hot.” He dropped his briefcase by
the door and sauntered over to kiss her. He picked her panties up off the
counter and sniffed them. “Umm. They’re wet.”
She snorted in response.
He grinned. “Smells great. How’s dinner coming?”
She glared at
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