Note: This story, including all names and people, is entirely fictional and not based on any real life experiences or events.

I angrily toss my sponge into the sink, dirty water splashing all over my clothes.

I’m pissed off, and a little scared, honestly. Alex’s tasks for today were so simple, exceedingly easy. How did I manage to fuck that up? I have no idea, and I certainly don’t know what I’m supposed to tell him when he gets home from work.

It’s a Saturday, so I have the day off, while Alex is at work. These types of days are among our favourites, because I can be his doting girlfriend at home, completing the tasks he gives me in the morning, and then get rewarded for being his good girl when he comes home.

Sometimes I intentionally disobey him in some way. Like a couple weeks ago when he told me to fold and put away his clothes before he came home. Instead, I poured them all into a high pile in the middle of the living room. The glare he gave me when he came in through the front door was absolutely terrifying–and panty-melting–and I ran through our house to get away from him.

When he caught me, he pulled me over his knee and spanked my ass over and over until he believed me when I said, “I’m sorry, Sir.”

I swear I still feel the sting of it when I touch my butt.

But I didn’t intentionally disobey him today. Even when I’m bratty on purpose, I still complete his most important tasks, such as making dinner for us and keeping the place clean. If he requests pictures of me, I always send those too, even if I sometimes give him a little more than he bargained for.

Today, he gave me three tasks. Just three tiny, little tasks, and I failed each and every one of them.

First, I was to clean up before he came home. Second, I had to have dinner ready for us. And lastly, I had to send him a picture of myself. Not even a nude, just a normal, smiling selfie sometime during the day.

And I failed every task.

I’d planned on making a slow-cooked stew for us today, which I put on this morning. While it cooked in the oven, I began cleaning the entire house, though I was going to wait with the kitchen until right before he came home.

Somehow while I took a break on the couch, I fell asleep, and while I was peacefully snoring away, the stew burned. When I opened the oven, smoke filled the entire kitchen, making the fire alarm go off and making my job even more anxiety-inducing.

When I cooled it off, I could finally get a good look at the damage, finding that it was near impossible to salvage. I tried my best, but with just an hour left before Alex was to come home, there was just no hope.

So, I tried to clean it off instead. 2/3 tasks wouldn’t have been too bad, especially if I explained what happened, but the burned shit at the bottom just would not come off. I scrubbed and scrubbed for a good half hour and barely got the worst of it off. The kitchen is a mess, too, as I became unintentionally hyper focused on the stupid pan.

And I only realise, just as the front door opens, that I completely forgot sending the picture too. I let out a groan when I see him enter.

Alex enters the living room, which sits adjacent to the kitchen, and slowly puts his things away on a chair. I don’t look at him, not wanting to see his face. It’s not that I think he’s angry with me, but the last thing I want is to see his face of pity.

I don’t want to be babied when I fucked up and couldn’t do three simple things for him. So, instead, I just stare at the dirty, sot-covered pan with a quivering bottom lip, desperately trying to hold myself together.

“Rachel?” he tries, but I don’t turn around. “Baby, look at me.” God, his voice is filled with so much pity, I can’t stand it.

When I don’t respond, he comes up behind me, snaking his arms around my waist and gripping me tight. His loving squeeze on my stomach breaks me, and tears begin rolling down my cheeks.

“Shh,” he says into my ear. “It’s okay.”

“Don’t say that.” My voice breaks as I give my weak protest.

Alex pulls back a little, and whatever he sees in my expression makes his lips thin. “Come here,” he tells me, and I offer some weak protests, but ultimately let him drag me by my hand to the couch.

He sits down first, then pats his lap. I go to straddle him, but he interrupts me. “Other way, angel.” I do as he says, putting my back to his front and settling down on his lap.

It’s times like these that our height and size difference is very convenient, as I fit nearly perfectly in his lap. Especially when his arms wrap around me, tugging me even closer. His cheek rests against the side of my head and I slump completely in his hold.

“Tell me what happened.” His tone is firm, like there’s no room for argument, yet he doesn’t sound angry.

“I burnt the food,” I begin, but my voice cracks again. I can’t stand it, how I can’t even tell him the very dry rundown of how I fucked up without ending up in tears. I take a shaky breath before I continue. “And I couldn’t–“ Another breath. “I couldn’t clean it off the pan. It’s stuck.”

Alex doesn’t reply for a while, instead just rocking me a little in a soothing motion. His thumbs on my waist keep rubbing circles, grounding me. With a small sigh, he says, “It’s okay, Rachel. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was!” I insist. “I fell asleep, and it fucking burnt while I was asleep right here on the couch.” The anger in my voice masks the tremble that was there just a second ago.

His grip tightens just a fraction. “Shh, baby. I’m not angry.”

I can’t explain it, but I want him to be angry. The fact that I fucked up and couldn’t follow his three simple instructions, not even sending him a picture, makes me so pissed off at myself. And when his reaction is to soothe me, to pity me, it just makes me angrier at myself since it makes me think I’m overreacting.

Instead of replying, I stay silent, though I’m fuming in my head. Alex doesn’t say anything for a while, and I assume he’s trying to give me time to calm down, but it just has the opposite effect. The more he’s quiet, the more I hate myself.

After a minute, he finally says, “It’s okay, Rachel. We can clean it later, and we can–“

I’ve had enough. “No!” I interrupt him. I never interrupt him, not intentionally anyway, but I can’t take his pity anymore. “Stop saying it’s okay. Please. I fucked up, why the hell aren’t you angry with me!?”

He doesn’t say anything, and I begin feeling guilty for my outburst. It seems no matter how hard I try to get him to stop feeling bad for me, I just make him feel even worse.

I go to apologise, but he starts talking first. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Rachel. Since you didn’t complete my tasks before I came home, I’ll punish you, but not how you want me to.”

I try to look up at him from behind me, but his grip stops me.

“I want you to let me punish you how I want, and then when I’m satisfied, we’ll order food and clean the kitchen together. Got it?”

“But it was my mistake, I should–“

“No.” His tone has turned into his firm dom-voice, and I realize what he’s doing. “You’re going to be my good little girl and let me use your body how I want. You’re going to stop fighting me, and you’re going to listen to the things I tell you. Tell me you understand.”

I hesitate, but after a moment, I push out, “I understand, Sir.”

“Good girl. If you keep fighting me, I’ll tape your panties in your mouth.” I can’t say I hate that idea.

His large hand snakes from my waist to down between my legs. On instinct, I try to push my legs together, but he stops me. “Stop moving.” He hooks his knees to the insides of mine, forcing my legs apart on his lap.

He cups me over my leggings, pressing his palm down a little on my clit. I let out a little gasp at the contact. Beneath me, I feel his length starting to press against his slacks, and I start grinding a little on it.

“Stay still,” he orders, and I obey, just as he pushes two fingers down the waistband of my leggings. “So wet for me already, aren’t you?” he coos and teases my entrance with two fingers. I nod but keep quiet like he told me to.

He continues teasing, not entering me nor touching my clit. After a minute of this, I push up a little into his hand, but he pulls out of my leggings. “So greedy,” he mocks. “Sit up.” I do as he says, balancing on his thighs with my hands, and he pulls my leggings down to my thighs.

When I settle back onto his lap, now with one less layer between us, his hand returns to its place under my panties, but now, he pushes two fingers inside me.

I buck off him a little at the intrusion, but he forces me to settle back down with his other arm around my waist. “There you go,” he encourages when I stop moving, just letting him finger me at a slow, torturous pace.

I whimper a little at the way he’s taking care of me. “I’m sorry,” I breathe.

“I know.” He changes his angle slightly, so the calloused skin of his palm rubs my clit every time his fingers move inside me. “But don’t be, okay?”

“No, I mean, I’m sorry for being angry with you.”

“Good girl.” His fingers move a little faster. “Do you think you deserve to be punished?”

God, I love the way he can tell what I need before I can myself. I was angry at myself, then angry at him when he didn’t react the same way I did. Admitting that I want him to punish me feels humiliating, yet it feels amazing too, because I know he’ll punish me just because I need him to.

“Yes,” I gasp when he hooks his fingers inside me, hitting the perfect spot.

“Ask nicely.” Fuck, his voice is so deep, so achingly masculine, it makes me feel warm all over my body.

“Please punish me, Sir.” My cheeks heat at the humiliation, but I don’t hesitate, either.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises. Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out, but just as I go to complain, he shoves them into my mouth. “Suck.” I do just that, eagerly lapping up myself from his fingers.

His other hand goes down to the waistband of my panties. Slowly, he begins peeling them off me, and I sit up again to help him. Once I settle back down, I’m completely bare, something he takes advantage of by giving my mound a gentle slap.

I grunt around his fingers, and his hand soothes the sting. My pained grunt is quickly replaced with a moan of pleasure.

“Why did you get so angry, princess? It wasn’t your fault. Accidents happen.” His fingers stay in my mouth, so when I try to talk around them, it comes out all muffled. “Let me finish,” he says.

He slaps me again, a little harder this time, and I grimace a little. “When you’re a little brat, I’ll bring you over my knee and spank your ass until you cry.” I shiver. “But when you try your best for me, even when you fail, how can I be anything but proud?”

Another slap, again a little harder. I’m drenched between my legs, and every time he slaps me, the wetness there is clearly audible. “What I don’t like is when you’re hard on yourself, when you get angry at yourself or with me, all because of an accident.”

His next slap makes me shriek a little. He’s no longer soothing the sting, and his fingers push deeper into my mouth, just barely short of making me gag. He gives me two more slaps, and the second makes me bite his fingers, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“If you need me to spank you, I will. If you need me to fuck your tight little cunt, I will.” His fingers plunge inside me as he says that. I moan loudly. “But do not ask me to be angry with you when you do your best to obey me. When you mess up, I’m here to help you pick up the pieces, but I will never be anything but happy with you when you try your best for me.”

He finishes his speech with a slap so hard that I scream and bite down. The juxtaposition of his soothing words in my ear and of his hard, punishing slaps to my pussy feels too good. When he had me ask to be punished, I wasn’t expecting half of the punishment to consist of Alex giving me soothing, comforting words. A tear rolls down my cheek at the intensity of it all. Not because it hurts, but because the gentleness with which he’s treating me feels overwhelming.

“Listen to me, Rachel,” he orders, wiping away the tear with his thumb. “Do you deserve my anger?”

Immediately, I want to nod, because I’m still so pissed off with myself, but I stop myself. Hesitantly, I shake my head.

“That’s right.” His fingers start rubbing my clit. “Do you deserve my love when you’re my good girl?”

I nod, yet a part of me still wants to shake my head.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he growls into my ear, nipping it. His fingers withdraw from both my mouth and my clit. “Turn around.”

I obey him, too lost in subspace to even feign reluctance. Once I’m comfortably straddling him, he brings my mouth down to his, eagerly pushing his tongue into my mouth.

I moan when our tongues swirl together in my mouth. His hands start tugging at the hem of my shirt, and we break apart to allow him to pull it off me. Next, he pulls my leggings off of my legs, and since I’ve been home all day, I didn’t put on a bra, so I’m completely naked for him.

His hard length is pulsing beneath me as I grind onto it. He moans against me and goes to grip my waist. His fingers are so long that he almost entirely encircles me.

He pulls away from my mouth just then. “I’m going to fuck you now, baby girl. Okay?”

“Yes,” I nod rapidly.

“But you’re not allowed to come until I’m convinced you’ve learned your lesson. You’re going to ride me until I come deep inside you, and only then will I decide if you deserve your own orgasm. Got it?”

Tonight, all I want is to obey Alex, even when he denies me my orgasm. Even if he keeps me on edge until next week, I don’t want to disobey him. I don’t hesitate when I nod and say, “Yes, Sir.”

He gives me a proud smile, then brings my lips back down to his in a hungry kiss. At the same time, he starts unzipping his slacks, pulling out his length within moments. I hook my arms around his neck to get closer to him, and his hands on my waist slowly guide me onto him.

When he enters me, my breath catches. He’s a pretty big guy, and this angle makes it a little more difficult to take him. The way I stretch around him edges on being painful, but he keeps pulling me down until he’s fully sheathed inside me.

He stops there, letting me get used to his size, and pulls away from our kiss. The smirk he gives me at my little hiss is so obnoxious, like he’s so smug that I still struggle to take all of him.

He starts thrusting up into me just as he resumes his kiss. His thrusts are slow and methodical, like he doesn’t want to overwhelm me. His tongue continues to explore my mouth and it strangely soothes me, relaxing me more and more around his thrusts.

I start moving a little faster, but his firm grip on me keeps me from taking charge, even as I’m on top of him. He pulls me away from his face with a grip to my hair. “I said I was going to fuck you, Rachel. Don’t get confused on me, now, got it?”

“I’m sorry, Sir.” I look at him a little sheepishly, and his expression softens.

“Such an eager girl, aren’t you?” I nod, and his thrusts start quickening. My clit grinds against his abdomen. “That’s it,” he coos. “Take it.”

He releases my hair again, bringing his hand back down to my waist. His grip allows him to pick up the pace even more. Instead of kissing me, his lips come down to my neck, and he playfully nips at me.

The moans and sounds escaping me at the sensation would embarrass me if I were with anyone but Alex. He’s equally unashamed with his moans escaping into my neck. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans.

His grip on my waist is so tight I’m sure it’ll bruise tomorrow, and his thrusts turn near punishing. There’s nothing I can do to slow him down, I’m just along for the ride as he takes me.

I’m so close to my own orgasm, especially when his mouth comes down to my chest, closing around one aching peak. But he beats me to it.

He pushes me all the way down onto him, and I yelp, just as he releases inside me while moaning my name.

He slumps back, and I give him a second to catch his breath, but I’m fucking desperate for my own release, too. When he opens his eyes again and catches sight of my face, he smiles at me.

“You did so well, baby. But you’re not done yet.” I tilt my head in confusion. “The only way you’re coming tonight is if you tell me you deserve my love.”

I already suspected he’d do this, but now that my orgasm is on the line, it feels so unfair. “But Sir…” I start, biting my lip.

“Uh-uh, you’re not talking your way out of this.” He’s still inside me, still gripping me tight. “Say it, and I’ll make you come.”

Honestly, even without using my orgasm as a bargaining chip, I’m so overcome with the need to obey him and to please him that I’d still say it. Even so, saying something nice about myself, especially after a day like this, feels so unnatural. “I…I deserve your love.” I say it in a whisper, but he doesn’t let me get away with it.

“I didn’t hear you, baby.”

I look into his beautiful eyes, and he gently encourages me with a small nod. “I deserve your love, Sir.”

“Such a good little girl,” he praises. “Now ask nicely to come.”

I don’t even hesitate. “Can I please come, Sir?”

He smiles, then brings his fingers back down to my clit, rubbing circles around the wet bud. His mouth clashes with mine again, and his other hand starts tugging at my nipple.

With all the sensations surround me, with the way he’s playing with my body, it only takes a minute before I reach the peak. I cry out into his mouth, and he thrusts his semi-erect length into me to wring my orgasm from me. All the emotions of the night, all the anger, the way he takes care of me, and all the love between us makes it an incredibly intense orgasm.

When I come down, I slump against him, letting his big arms wrap me in a hug.

We stay there for a few minutes, but eventually, he carries me to the bathroom where he cleans me off in the shower. Once he’s wrapped me in a bathrobe, he orders food for us and starts cleaning the kitchen.

I roll my eyes at the way he, somehow, manages to clean the pan I was struggling with earlier, but I’m smiling as I do.

Once the food arrives, I lay my head on his chest while he feeds me. When I’ve eaten all my food, he gives me a kiss on my head, and I fall asleep in his arms with the soothing beat of his heart in my ear.

Thank you for reading!💜