Rosie came into the kitchen from a late night at the office and stared at the mixing bowl. Tears sprang to her eyes. All her Thanksgiving plans were gone. Her parents had backed out to join their friends on a Caribbean Cruise at the last minute and all her careful food planning had gone out the window.
She felt so torn. She was happy they were going on a cruise. The last year had not been easy on any of them with the death of Rosie’s sister and her attempted relocation to help them.
Facing the prospect of recreating the family Thanksgiving with only herself and her youngest child felt empty a. She would slave for days, hurt her back, make her arms and legs ache from counter work, so they could and enjoy the mea as a familyl. She could order food like she had in the past, but the University was late paying this semester because the class had made late. Without money, there really was only one choice. Plan the menu, shop the menu, stage the menu, cook everything, clean everything, eat, then clean everything again.
It was overwhelmeing and exhausting.
Dominic stood in the living room watching her. e watched as she hung her head and the tears began to pool on her cheek. One thing was for sure. His wife needed his help and soon. He never understood why she allowed herself to get overstressed and woeked up over pleasing everyone around her. It was great to be the recipeiant, but watching the destruction on her was almost too much fore him. It literally hurt his heart. “Oh, my love. Are you stressing out over the meal? Again? I thought we talked about this. You serve more than us. You serve yourself. And if you do not speak you rneeds and your frustrations, I will never have the absolutel joy of helping and serving you.” Dominic took her face in his hands and nuzzled her cheek. “Speak, my one. Why these tears? Is it the issue we spoke of on the phone? How you feel conflicted between from provideing us with an idealized family meal and the exhaustion you feel being the care-giver to your paretns are our children. Is this the manifestation of that?” Rosie could only nod. She clung to Dominic as deep wretching breaths came from her belly. She was so tired and frustrated and angry and happy Domniic had her and every single emotion at once. She felt like she was a million nerves on fire all at once.
Domninc only clung to her and hugged her tight in a bear hug. He berathed deeply to smeel her hair and her perfume. She was intoxicating, and as he moved to nibble her neck, he formulated a plan to help her release her pent up frustrations and blow off some much needed emotional steam.
“Well, it looks like you need to be taken in hand.” He spoke the words into the soft fine hairs on the back of her neck and enjoyed the shiver that ran through her entire body. “Go and get yourself prepared for a scene. No arguing now.” He patted Rosie on the rump and watched her leave. After she left the room, Dominic sprang into action. Grabbing the toy chest from the basement, Dominic removed the floggers and whips and placed them on the cabinet. Tonight would be special. He bought a new implement for her as an inside joke—a wooden spoon. They had a standing agreement not to buy each other “useful” things as gifts without prior arrangement. This was especially true for all items in Rosie’s kitchen. Dominic had eaten a lot of bad food in previous relationships. At this point in his life, he refused to do anything to jeopardize her processes which had proven successful for all these years. No. It was best to tease her and then perhaps leave some nice red marks to match the rope. He did love marking her skin but it was especially true at this time of year when Rosie dressed even more modestly than usual to survive the harsh midwestern climate. He did not have to hold back; he had free range to mark her from her chest to her toes. The thought was more delicious than her sage dressing.

Dominic sighed. What a vision; he adored his Rose. Trussed up and unable to bring herself to orgasm without his aid, she would look so forlorn. How long would he make her wait? How many orgasms? It had varied from year to year, but Dominic had this one more trick up his sleeve this year. Oh, how lovely she would sound when she begged him to cum. Thank goodness they were alone tonight. He expected her to be quite loud.

Just as he finished moving the leather hassock that would serve as a spanking bench into place, Rosie descended the stairs with the rope in her hands and her hair tied up in a tight French twist. He loved her hair, but tonight, it would get in the way of the rope and he needed a clean slate for what he had planned.

Rose was a stunner wearing only her red heels, and the rope hung loosely in her hand. She placed it lightly on the ottoman and knelt in front of Dominic. Casting her eyes down she spoke, “I am ready to serve you, my Master” with a gentle voice.

“Excellent, my Rose. I am ready to be served. How very lucky for you.” Chuckling, he took her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers. Ever so softly he kissed her, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth and biting every so gently. Falling into his embrace, Rosie felt herself relax as Dominic moved to tighten his arms and whispered in her ear, “Tonight I am ready to worship you as you are, my sweet Rose. Are you prepared to submit to me my plans for you?”

“Yes, my love. Please.”