Monday Morsel – His Instructions

Something different for this weeks morsel. Nothing from one of my books, this is a conversation between two people. A slightly one-sided conversation. He has a list of requirements, instructions, expectations… Her job is to listen.


“Let us go over the timetable, shall we?”

Before him, kneeling on the floor, was a naked young woman. He had allowed her the additional comfort of a cushion beneath her knees.

“Yes. Yes sir,” she added.

“Good.” He picked a strand of hair from his black trousers with a frown. Resting back in the leather armchair, he pursed his lips.

listening“The daily routine,” he began. “Every morning, after the alarm clocks goes off, you will make me a strong black coffee, no milk or sugar and bring it to me. You will wake me with your lips and gentle caresses. When I am ready I will decide whether to use your mouth. You may not come.”

“Yes sir,” she said with confidence.

“At noon precisely, you will take the time to masturbate for me. Exactly five minutes. You may not come.”

“Yes sir.” A fraction of disappointment in her voice.

“After our evening meal together, you will wait for me in the room with the blue door.”

“The blue door. Yes sir.” She thought that room sounded thrilling.

“Depending on how busy I am will determine if I join you. You will naturally be spanked and used for my personal gratification.”

“Yes sir,” she squeaked.

“You will not come without permission and then when I command it.”

She whispered a nearly inaudible affirmation.

“Now, I don’t expect things to go perfectly,” he said finding another hair on his trousers. “So, every Friday evening, I will tot up your errors and we go to the cellar. I will deal with them down there.”

She gulped. “Yes sir.”

“Mondays,” he stared up at the ceiling pausing. “Ah yes. Your pamper day. A massage, pedicure and manicure. You may style your hair but not cut it. If I want to modify your body in anyway, I will give specific instructions.”

“Yes sir,” she smiled. Monday was a favourite day already.

“Tuesday. You will read at least three chapters of an erotic novel I will give you. You will not touch yourself.”

“Yes sir.” A modicum of sulking in her tone. He noted it.

“Wednesday. You will write an essay describing a fantasy of your own. Please do not plagiarise the Tuesday book, I’m not stupid. I will hold you accountable for your spelling and grammar.”

“Of course sir.”


“Oh,” her voice deflated. He knew about her handwriting.

“Thursday. Your lap dancing lesson and striptease practise. You will show me your progress on Saturday evenings. Points will be awarded. Points mean prizes.”

“Yes sir,” she beamed.

“Friday. Ah, yes. The cock ring,” he nodded in recollection. “My favourite day. As you know, I am member of a fraternity who likes to share our girls. Every Friday you will go to an address and provide fellatio to the incumbent. A report will be given on your abilities. Each Friday, a different member. You will not come. Though, they will, over your face.”

“Yes sir,” she said softly.

“Saturday and Sunday are free to spend as you wish, unless I ask for you, which I invariably will do. Does that all makes sense? Is there anything you wish to discuss?”

“No sir,” she said breathing heavily.

A small smirk descended on his face. Her skin was flushed pink, nipples were erect, mouth slightly parted and her fingers clenched on her lap. There was a imploring expression in her eyes. He picked another tiny hair off his leg with a slow deliberate action, flicking it away.

“Oh, very well, play with yourself. You may come, now.”

So she did.

Afterwards, lifting her head off the floor and taming her thumping heartbeats, she began to crawl over to her pile of clothes. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched him accepted the ginger cat on to his lap. He picked up the TV remote in one hand and the bottle of beer in the other.

She smiled at him. “I love your little fantasies, Tony.”

He grinned back at her, “I do too.”


Everyone has fantasies…. what is yours?

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