the vinegar spill

"fishface, Get Me some vinegar for My salad."

i had just prepared a fresh salad of new Spring greens with egg slices for my Mistress.

"is apple vinegar ok?" i asked.

She threw back Her cascade of penetrating black hair and then without missing a beat continued to issue orders.

"Yes, and make sure it is in one of those little cups?" "Understood?"

"certainly, Mistress." i timidly spoke.

reaching into the cabinet i pulled out a small monkey cup and filled it sufficiently with apple cider vinegar.

"And water, now please." i moved quickly to keep up with Her pace.

i am not sure why, but i do crave and adore to be ordered about. Her voice seems to morph and changes. it becomes more abrupt, resolute, crisp, sharp and cutting. it is almost as if something else within Her bubbles up to the surface and proceeds to take complete charge over me.

i was starting to enjoy the rhythm and tempo of Her commands.

suddenly i heard Her speak matter of factly ... "Hmmmmm ... shit. i spilled some of the vinegar on the table and the chair."

"Clean it up, now." i stopped what i was doing and reached for a paper towel. sopping up the vinegar on the table - top, She continued to direct me.

"no, over there, silly.
and there," ... She pointed with Her long index finger to the arm of the chair.

and finally pointing, ... She paused ... "it ... also ran ... down ... my ... foot."

"her foot?!" ... i quivered and trembled for a moment.

it seemed to have been ages since i had been allowed to touch Her magnificent, beautiful, strong, high arched feet.
about a jillion thoughts ran willy, nilly through my head.

"now, how do i go about wiping the oil off Her feet?"
my mind began to race through scenarios.
"I could dob and pat them down?"

"nah ...
i could ....
i should just ..."
maybe, if i was quick and efficient ...
then, perhaps She wouldn't mind?

the pause passed as slowly as a hearse making a wide turn then suddenly lurching to a halt.
in my mind i blurted it out, over the nodes of common sense.

"just lick them off as fast as you can, so She doesn't notice!"
... ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY ... ARE YOU A SIMPLE MINDED MORON?!?" i continued to have this tethered conversation inside myself.

"that would be HIGHLY disrespectful!
just wait and see what She says,"

i decided to wait just a smidge to see if She would suggest anything, but She was busy eating Her salad.

reluctantly, i realized that nothing was going to happen. i picked up the clean paper towel and proceeded to wipe the vinegar off Her amazing foot.

"Now, don't forget my ankle too. it spilled and dripped down there also." She spoke firmly.

i dabbed at Her ankle and wiped it down.

i'm not sure if She knew this was a huge dilemma for me.

all i know is that while performing this task, wave after wave of submissive karma splashed over me as i wiped down Her beautiful foot.

and that's, pretty, damn pathetic? ... huh?