kitchen Pugilist

last Friday, my Mistress stunned me with a surprise visit to Her lair, and i was so ecstatic to see Her and be permitted to serve, that i accidently dropped Her keys and clothes She had tossed at me. i do act nervous and kind of weird when She graces me with Her presence, but the truth be told it’s such an incredible rush for me to be at Her beck and call and to be bullied and bossed about as She is so fully capable and aware of.  certainly, W/we are both D/s and i am

anxious to follow that protocol when allowed, but through time and over the years, W/we have also developed into true friends, looking out for one another and not tolerating excessive amounts of bullshit from each other either.  

"I want some food. Make me some eggs." Her hair as well as Her energy was a streak of power and intensity and i struggled at times to keep up. i do though thoroughly enjoy the way She takes charge and keeps me perilously engaged on my toes, even though She may intentionally step on them from time to time.

W/we stood in the kitchen of Her lair conversing about the day's events. Her eyes sparked and flashed, not missing a beat, as She conveyed Her exciting news. Her hands were a blur of kinetic motion as she spun around on Her polished blue toes bubbling with enthusiasm.

"i not only got the job, but got the main fucking part as well!" She strutted around Her kitchen confidently and proud. 

"And that website it took me 3 fucking years to finish ... makes it so fucking easy!" She dipped one long slender finger into the scrambled eggs i was preparing for Her and snagged a piece of scrambled egg. 

"I don't know what the hell I was thinking? Why the fuck it took me 3 years to finally figure this out, I'll never know?" i watched as She threw back her beautiful cascade of  full, black hair. it fell into reckless curls and ebbed behind her shoulders, in rebellious waves. 

the scrambled eggs popped and sizzled, and soon Her kitchen was full of a delightful breakfast aroma of blended toast, eggs, butter and brewing tea.

i continued to banter with Her blissful and unaware. ... Her eyes narrowed and i didn't see the the way She had curled Her fingers, and  knuckled up, or was definitely unaware with the way Her thumb now curled tentatively around Her other nimble digits to form a simple fist. 

"of course they are interested in You" i said continuing to stir the eggs.  "You represent what is known today as a true renaissance Wo ..."

"thaaaawaaack!"

my finishing words of accolade never did leave my lips, but Her balled up fist sure did. i don't  know what happened, except that an exceptionally fast and lethal right cross plowed hard and fast across and under my left eye. in fact, She had decked me so efficiently hard, that my glasses flew off and smacked into the floor.

"Mmmmmmmm ... Now, that's what i was looking for." 

She examined me with a cohesive stare and searched my socket and cheek bone for a lovely reddened knuckle mark .

 grinning and smirking, Her dimples couldn't hide the satisfaction of the moment.  She reached for another finger peck of eggs.

i tried to steady myself on the floor and searched for my glasses which had been smacked right off my face. 

"what did You do that for?" i knew the answer i received from Her could possibly

 be any number of things. but, still, i wanted to find out. 

leaning up against the counter She licked Her fingertips with relish. 

"Do I really have to have a reason to smack You around or hurt you?" She asked pointedly.

"no, i suppose not." still struggling to right myself i couldn't help but have a silly, little grin on my face.

"well, if you must know, it is because i am so fucking, happy today." She stood next to the pan of eggs and watched as i bent down to pick up my missing eyewear.

..."now, set up your laptop and serve Me in the living room."

i eagerly complied, but i must admit that i took a slight detour into the bathroom to view Her emerging red marks. for now, the tingle under the eye was already apparent. would a true black eye appear? i felt around the swelling of the socket and felt the tender, swollen flesh.

as i served my Mistress Her eggs, She stopped me short ...

"Do you suppose that there will be some delightful bruising under there?"

She drank a gulp of orange juice and munched on some toast. "Mmmmmm ... I do hope so. I love a nice colorful bruise."

i crossed my fingers, felt the puffiness under my eye and walked away. 

i hope so to my dear Mistress ... i hope so too.

as i walked back into the kitchen my mind began to dream and wander ...

"i wonder what kind of damage She could inflict on me if She did something big like ... say ... win the lottery or an Oscar?"

if that happened ... i ... just ... might ... not ... live ... 
to tell the tale .

and, that would be effing bliss.