"Shit!" I muttered, walking into the apartment and smelling what was obviously rotting garbage. I dropped my backpack full of work and my purse on the dining table, and moved to pull the offending and overflowing bag from the plastic wastebasket. I pulled the drawstring and set the bag in the linoleum-floored hallway to be taken out. I pulled a new bag from beneath the sink, and shook it out angrily. I put the new bag into the garbage can and set the can back into place. I blew out an annoyed breath, hearing His key in the lock.

I opened the refrigerator and took out the thawed chicken thighs. I dropped them onto the kitchen counter with a thud, hearing "Hi, honey. I'm home!" as He walked through the door.

"Hi," I replied, half-heartedly, taking the kiss He placed on my lips. I took His lunch bag and His jacket from Him and began the nightly rituals. I arranged His jacket on a dining room chair so that He would not forget to take it the next morning. I fished out the garbage from His lunch bag and made to put the dirty Tupperware into the dishwasher. 'Dammit!' I thought as I realized the dishes in the machine were clean. It had not been emptied.

I heard the distinct sound of the electronic handshake between our home PC and the Internet and let out another annoyed breath. 'One ... two ... three ...' I began to mentally count, hoping this would calm me down and release the anger that was slowly beginning to boil. It was not working. 'God, I want a cigarette!' I thought. I was 10 days into being smoke-free, and was having trouble with the psychological withdrawal. I wore the nicotine patches to abolish the cravings, but the habit was still firmly entrenched.

I opened the dishwasher again and began to empty it. I was not at all happy about doing it! This was HIS job! The rule was, "You cook, I clean" regardless of who had done the cooking. I had done the cooking the night before, and had amicably tidied up the kitchen, knowing that His side job had left Him exhausted. After working a straight eight at His regular job, He had gone to the home of a friend to finish the electrical wiring in her new kitchen. He had spent a good four hours there. A twelve-hour day was enough for anyone, and at the time I had not minded taking care of the dishes. However, it was an unwritten rule that whoever left last in the morning would either run the dishwasher or empty it. As I had an early meeting to take minutes for, He had been last that morning. Yet, here I was, emptying the damned machine!

I was obviously making too much noise with the chore, as His next words made me realize.

"Something on your mind, baby?" He asked. He asked this question when I started throwing attitude and making my dissatisfaction known through little actions like banging pots and pans. He had come up behind me, and was snaking His arms around my waist as I sorted silverware.

"It's just been a long day," I sighed, continuing with my chore. He kissed the back of my neck, and as He pulled away, swatted my backside smartly.

"Ow!" I responded softly, making Him chuckle.

"I figured as much with the noise you're making. Sorry about the garbage. I'll take it out after dinner," He said, eliciting another heavy sigh from me. He was also searching for the real reason behind my attitude. He knew that there was something else going on and He would continue to play the guessing game until I was ready to 'fess up. He went back to the PC and began to go through His e-mail. I blew out a breath, and reached into the pantry for my apron. Now that the dishes were cleaned up, I went about making another mess fixing dinner.

I turned on the boom box in the kitchen and tuned it into rock and roll. I was not in the mood for anything else as the anger and annoyance continued to push my buttons. I pulled out the electric frying pan and set it up, covering the bottom with oil and setting up the breadcrumbs and seasonings for fried chicken. I set another pot filled with hot water on the stove and lit the burner beneath it.

"Hey, baby! C'mere and look at this!" He called out, obviously referring to something He had received via email. I sighed yet again, putting aside the red potatoes I had been chopping, and moving into the living room to look at whatever it was.

"Hmm," I commented, leaning over a bit to look at the PC screen. A graphic photograph of a woman in a compromising position filled the monitor screen. So what? I thought. "Interesting."

"EddieJ, of course," He said, letting me know His cousin Jerry had sent the photo.

"Of course," I replied straightening up to move back into the kitchen. He reached out and pulled me between His legs. I knelt so as not to be above Him, and looked up questioningly. He extended one leg over my shoulder, and said,

"Please." I knew He was asking that I assist Him in getting undressed, beginning with His work boots. I reached out and untied the boots, and tugged them off. I removed his socks as well, and dropped them near the boots. I raised up on my knees and reached to pull first His phone, then His lighter pouch and tool pocket from His belt. I set them aside and unbuckled His belt and then pulled it through the loops. I moved forward and worked the buttons on His work shirt loose, tugging the tails from His pants.

"Sure there's nothing on your mind, sweetheart?" He asked, pulling me close to kiss me. I took the kiss, hoping to melt some of the anger that was plaguing me. I shook my head as I pulled back and gave Him a small smile. I was hoping but unconvinced that I had reassured Him. The kiss had done little to improve my mood.

He stood up and pulled me up with Him. I removed His work shirt and waited for Him to remove His glasses so that His undershirt could also be removed. He did so, and I pulled the shirt over His head. He turned His back to me and I reached around front to undo the button and then unzip His pants. He let them drop and stepped out of the pool they had made on the floor. I bent down and picked them up, turning to retrieve the socks as well. All were destined for the laundry basket. He reached out and again landed a stinging blow to my backside. I straightened up in a hurry, rubbing at the spot as I moved to the bedroom to drop the dirty clothes into the basket.

"Thank you, sweetheart," He said as I moved past Him again and into the kitchen.

"You're welcome," I replied, picking up the chopping knife and resuming dinner preparations. I heard Him pull out His Zippo and light a cigarette. I turned the radio up just a bit and hoped for a decent tune to come on. I desperately needed something to lighten my mood and get over the petty annoyances that were mounting up and building a piss-poor attitude. I knew that if I did not fix the problem soon, it would become His problem, and I knew exactly what HE would do to rid me of a negative demeanor.

He continued His email perusal as I dropped the potatoes into the water to boil and began seasoning and breading the chicken for frying. One of my favorite tunes finally came on the radio and I began to move my feet and hum along. 'Maybe this will work,' I thought to myself, again hoping to lighten my mood. I did not like feeling resentful or annoyed by petty issues. I could usually get over it. The nicotine withdrawals and my hormones were making everything bigger than life the last two days, and they were making it nigh on to impossible for me to shake ANYTHING off. It had been that way at the office as well. And aside from all of THAT, He had been working so hard the last two weeks, with regular 8 hour shifts, over-time and then working on Barb's kitchen every other night. I sighed, trying to get into the music.

"Would You like a beer, sweetie?" I asked Him as I moved to the refrigerator to pull out the butter and milk for mashed potatoes.

"Yes, please and thank you," I heard Him call out. I opened one for the both of U/us, and took His to Him, lime firmly in place. I set the bottle down and turned to go back to the kitchen.

"Cassie Lee, are you going to tell me what's got you upset sometime tonight?" He asked, reaching out to tug me back to Him. I swallowed and nodded, not looking at Him. I could not even hedge the truth if I looked Him directly in the eye. He stood up, putting firm fingers beneath my chin. He urged me to look at Him, giving me that knowing look over the top of His glasses.

"Cassie Lee?" He said, His voice brooking no nonsense. I sighed, and said,

"It's nothing, really. Just a long day and idiots everywhere."

"Including right here? In your own home?" He asked, a small smile shaping His sexy lips. I shrugged and looked down, not wanting to spoil O/our time together with petty concerns. He had told me so many times to just get it out in the open, no matter how trivial I thought it was, but ... I hated that I could not just shake it off and not let it get to me. I felt it showed me up as petty in His eyes, regardless of the fact that He categorically denied that statement. I felt the pressure of His fingers making me look up at Him again.

"Cassie Lee, if there's something you need to say to me, just spit it out. If you insist on letting it fester, you're gonna start throwing me attitude and that's NOT gonna be good. Capisce?"

I nodded, but could not bring myself to whine about these petty little annoyances. I told myself I could move on and shrug off the peevish details. He kissed me briefly and I smiled a small smile.

"OK. Just watch the attitude, little girl," He warned. "You know what that gets you. Don't you, baby?" I nodded again and turned as He released me. He went back to the PC and I went back to dinner. I knew very well what that would get me. The last time W/we had this discussion, it had been patently one-sided and I had been left stinging, sore and sniffling. I had said some rather disrespectful things to Him, sarcastic and rude, and He had marched me into the bedroom, and put me in the corner. He had yanked my skirt up and my panties down, spanked me briefly and smartly with His hand, and then left me to think about the more severe and intense spanking that was coming. My disrespectful attitude and my stubborn refusal to communicate the annoyances that had led to that disrespect had earned me a good, hard, bare-ass spanking with several of the more painful implements in His arsenal.

It had not been the first time I had thrown that attitude nor had it been the first time I had refused to tell Him what was on my mind and upsetting me. There had been other discussions and other spankings. Each time He had to punish me for the same infraction or offense, the spankings got longer, more intense and more painful. This issue was no exception. That thought had crossed my mind, but I had discarded it, sure that I could throw off the anger and aggravation that was threatening my composure.

I continued with dinner, putting the browned chicken into a dish to be microwaved and draining the water from the now softened potatoes. I dumped the potatoes into a bowl, and began to add the butter and the bit of milk. I added some chopped garlic and salt as well, and set the bowl aside. I popped the microwave open and after covering the chicken with a paper towel I set the plate inside and turned the machine on.

A slow, blues tune came on the radio just then and I hummed along, setting the table. I was swinging my hips to the beat and as I turned to walk back into the kitchen, He caught me up in His arms and danced me a bit around the dining area. I smiled up at Him, and He smiled back, leaning in to kiss me. I took the kiss and felt the ever-present desire begin to swirl in my blood. He kissed the side of my neck, and the feeling intensified.

"I love my Sunshine," He murmured, and I whispered back that I loved my Master. "You know I'd do anything for you, don't you, baby?"

"Yes, Master," I said, stepping back and looking up into His sincere blue eyes. "Then I hope you'll share what's up with you tonight, honey. If you're angry with me, or upset about something I've done, just spit it out. Got it?" "Yes, Master," I said, stepping further back and turning to go back to the kitchen. "Thank You, Master," I added as an after-thought, moving to finish setting the table and getting Him something more to drink. The microwave told me the chicken would be another 4 minutes and so I had just enough time to mash the potatoes.

"Can I help, baby?" I heard Him call out.

"No, thank You, Master," I replied, hearing Him still tapping those computer keys. Must have been a load of mail in His in-box. Even something as trivial as that somehow irked me, I noticed. I let out a long breath and concentrated on the potatoes, thinking ridiculously in my head that somehow THIS would show Him! I swallowed the last of my beer quickly and set the bottle back into the six pack from which it had come.

The microwave beeped just as I finished opening His second beer for the meal and setting it on the table. I pulled the plate out of the oven and set it on the counter to cool. I added the salt and pepper to the table along with butter and a napkin apiece. I put the now cooling chicken onto two separate plates and set them on the table. I moved the bowl of perfectly mashed potatoes to the center of the table and added a larger spoon to the bowl.

"Dinner's ready, Master," I told Him, realizing that He was still either looking at email or surfing the Net. Either way, I fumed inwardly at having to wait yet again, second to a machine! I shook my head inwardly and tsk-tsk'd myself into letting go of the attitude about these mundane, petty grievances. I took a deep breath and felt my muscles relax. "Be there in a minute, baby. Just got to log out," He told me. I sat back, and took another deep breath, finally feeling as if the frustration was at its end.

Then I realized that I had not poured myself anything to drink. I had made a habit of pouring either beer or soda into a wine goblet or frosted mug rather than drinking out of the bottles at dinner. I got up and moved to the kitchen, reaching into the refrigerator for a cold soda. As I moved back to the table, I twisted the cap and the bottle virtually exploded, fizzing out from the top, over my hands and onto the floor.

"Shit! Godammit!" I shouted, moving quickly back to the kitchen and tossing the bottle into the sink. "Relax, baby, relax!" He chided, moving quickly in to help me with the problem. "Are you alright?"

"Yes!" I spat out, truly angry now on top of the frustration I had been feeling all day and most intensely since arriving home. I rinsed my hands, and pulled a handful of paper towels from the spool on the counter, tipping that over in the process. I set the spool back into place with a bang! and was on my knees, blotting the spill and feeling the angry tears begin to flood my eyes. I bit my tongue in an effort to keep them at bay.

"Please, baby, relax. It's all good," He told me, reaching down to massage my neck and shoulders. I sat back on my heels and closed my eyes, allowing His touch to soothe at least the wildest of savage beasts in me. He took the soaked paper towels from me and tossed them into the wastebasket. He reached down, taking my hand and urging me to stand back up. He pulled me into His arms, and held me against Him, hugging me hard.

"Better?" He asked, pulling back to place a soft kiss against my brow. I nodded, not truly feeling much better, but coping now with the soda snafu. "Good! Have a seat. Let me get you another pop, my love," he offered, moving into the kitchen to do just that. Now I really felt terrible, being so peevish about the stupid things that I was miffed about, and Him being so sweet. He brought the soda to me, already opened, and poured some into the glass I had set by my place.

"Smells delicious, baby. Thank you for cooking," He said, sitting down and reaching over to take my hand, squeezing my fingers tightly.

"You're welcome, Master," I said softly, looking down into my plate. How could I be mad about ridiculous things that didn't matter when He was so good to me, and so understanding and sweet?

"Hey! Mashed potatoes! Garlic even! That's my job! What's up with that?" He asked, taking up the bowl and serving us both. His grin did not mitigate the annoyance I was still feeling about the things that had been left undone. Bringing up the potatoes as HIS job just lit the fire again.

"You were busy, Master," I said, still not looking up from my plate. He set the plate down, and pushed my chin up so that my eyes met His. His eyes narrowed and then He cocked His head to one side and said,

"I DID ask if I could help, Cassie Lee," He said.

"Yes, Master, You did," I said, lowering my eyes and taking my bottom lip into my mouth and biting down hard.

"It IS my job, little girl," He stated, looking at me intently.

"Well, that's..." I left off and did not finish the peevish thought about His not having done anything that was His job at all in the last twenty-four hours and so I thought the potatoes would be the same scenario.

He knew I was holding something back. "C'mon, now. Spit it out! This about the garbage?"

"And the dishes," I said. Picking up my napkin and placing it in my lap.

"Hmm. Now I'm beginning to get the picture," He said, taking a mouthful of chicken and potatoes and leaning back, chewing leisurely. I took a bite of chicken and said nothing.

"C'mon. Get it out of your system. I know you're dying to say something!" He was almost egging me on, daring me to say something sarcastic or disrespectful. I shook my head, and concentrated on cutting up the chicken.

"Cassie Lee, tell me what's on your mind, and I mean now!" He insisted, reaching over to take a firm hold of my left wrist. I swallowed hard and finally said, my voice small,

"Well, it's just that You haven't seemed to want to do any of the things that are supposedly YOUR job in the past couple of days. I just assumed that the potatoes would be the same deal." His chuckle in response confused me. I chanced a glance up at Him and looked into His deep blue eyes. He smiled at me, and my confusion increased. He let go of my wrist and sat back. He took a sip of His beer and stroked His chin methodically.

"I see," was all He said. "Cassie Lee, what have I told You about telling me what's on your mind?" He asked quietly.

"That when You ask, I need to tell You," I replied, knowing without knowing where this was going.

He took another bite of dinner and chewed slowly. He leaned back again, and said,

"And is that because I want to know every little thought that goes on in that sweet, little head of yours?" I shook my head, knowing that was not the reason.

"Then why, little girl?" He asked, again taking a bite of his chicken.

"Because You truly want to know what I'm thinking and if there's anything wrong." My voice was small, and I swallowed hard again. He nodded, taking a swig of His beer.

"Tell me why I want to know about that, baby," He asked, cutting into His second piece of chicken. He did not comment on the fact that I had not touched my dinner since the first bite, but I knew He had noticed. "So You can fix the problem," I said, taking a small sip of soda.

"Exactly right. Now, tell me what happens when you don't tell me what's on your mind, but let it simmer and boil," He said, His voice taking on an edge I knew all too well. Damn! I had done a piss poor job of reigning in the attitude. And I had been thinking I was doing so well!

"I start to develop an attitude," I said, my throat so dry and making it sound like a croak.

"Yes," He drawled, and I licked my lips. "And you've developed quite the little attitude over my slacking, haven't you, little girl?" He sat back completely now, wiping His mouth with His napkin and setting it aside.

"Master, I..."

"Cassie Lee, I don't want to hear excuses or explanations or lies. Just 'fess up," He said, His voice now hard as stone.

"Yes, Master," I said, my voice barley a whisper. "But I did try, Master!"

"Everything but the one, simple way that will ALWAYS prevent this, Cassie Lee," He admonished, and I bowed my head. It was true. If I had just told Him what was bothering me...

"What happens when you throw me attitude, miss?" He asked, His voice again hard.

"You punish me, Master," I said, biting back the tears. I HAD tried to nip it in the bud.

"Right again. Go to your room, miss," He ordered. I looked up, hoping to somehow way-lay the inevitable. He was already rising and taking up His plate. I swallowed hard and stood up, moving to the bedroom. I knew what was expected, and I knew that this was going to be a long, hard spanking. I had yet to learn this lesson...

 

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© Cassandra Selmon
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