Sweet Cookies
The message in Toby’s e-mail read,
“We’re sorry, but your package couldn’t be delivered. Please contact us to schedule a new attempt. Thank you.”
“What do you mean, ‘it couldn’t be delivered?’,” he grumbled. “I’ve been home all day, dumbasses.”
He inserted the package number on the distributor’s website and read that the delivery had failed because ‘the recipient didn’t answer the bell.’
“How could I answer it if you didn’t ring it?” he concluded, mentally preparing the contents of his complaint. It wasn’t the first time an incident like this happened, and while he was usually calm and collected about the whole thing, it was different when Mistress Liza was involved. While he showered her with gifts every month of the year, she never sent him anything except on one occasion. A few days before Christmas, there was always a package of her homemade lemon-ginger and mint cookies with his name on it. Besides being an expert at controlling men and women at will, Mistress was the best when it came to tasty treats, and he needed to have his fill once more.
Toby called the company in charge of the delivery to file a formal complaint and arrange for a new date. The woman on the other end of the line chewed words with her thick Hispanic accent but was helpful from the start, even apologizing on behalf of the driver who had failed his mission that day. While he appreciated the gesture, the fact remained that he would have to sit through the whole weekend without Mistress’ delicious cookies on his lips. He hung up the call and was even more dismayed when she texted him asking,
“Have you received this year’s package yet, slave?”
“No, Mistress. There was a problem with the post. As much as I would love to be eating your treats right now, I’m afraid I’ll have to wait.”
“Awww, that’s too bad, but I’m sure they’ll taste even better once they’re finally in your hands.”
“Better than what they already are? I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Didn’t I teach you that anything is possible with me?” she replied, finishing her message with three spinning spiral emojis.
Oh yes! All conversations with her were a delight, especially when they ended in a hypnotic trance. A resistant subject in the early days of their long-distance relationship, he had grown increasingly pliable over the course of a year to the point where he could no longer distinguish the moments in which he was wide-awake and those where her suggestions completely overwhelmed his senses beyond the point of any possible resistance.
“I can never get enough of hearing you say that…” he concluded.
“You will wait patiently until the next time. Don’t forget to let me know how much you enjoyed the cookies.”
The exchange was over, and his torment began. Forty-eight hours wasn’t much, but his anticipation levels were now through the roof after talking to her. Even a second felt like an eternity, let alone almost two hundred thousand of them. He waited with bated breath without ever losing track of the need to be calm and forgiving, and when Monday came, he was finally rewarded.
Mistress was right, as always. The biscuits were to die for and judging by the extra kick of flavor in each one, it was an updated recipe complete with a new trigger.
After the tenth bite, Toby’s mind drifted happily into a deeper realm of servitude, powerless to resist whatever else she wanted to do to this mind. He never complained about the chastity device he bought the morning after, nor that he sent her the only copy of the key. He would only see it again three hundred and sixty-five days later, wrapped in cookie dough and mint delights.
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