Page 34 of Habibi: Always and Forever

KITCHEN ACTIVITIES

“M a’am!”

Did I run too fast? Maybe, but I was excited—sue me.

This weekend was going to be the best. First, I was staying at Mónica’s.

I’d packed everything before I headed to work today and dropped my backpack in Mónica’s car before one of her brothers could ask me about it.

And, of course, by everything , I mean I packed the basics like underwear and then shoved the rest of it full of stuffies because priorities.

Then, I had been uber professional at work and hadn’t mentioned a thing about our plans.

I hadn’t even gotten anxious because one of the men Mónica was trying to get a contract with was being extra annoying.

And then, I got in Mónica's car, and I didn’t listen to her brothers teasing me.

I swear they behaved worse than Sergio—bestie extraordinaire—and I on a sugar rush.

I even held on and didn’t talk Mónica’s ear off until she was on the highway because I knew it made her nervous when she had to split her attention between the road and me when we were near schools and people were milling around.

But now . Now, we were safely tucked in her house, and I didn’t have to contain myself any longer. And I had already spotted the parcel, even though I was sure Mónica had wanted to pace herself.

Fuck that.

The thought made me giggle.

I didn’t bother to feel embarrassed by the sound, instead sliding across the wooden floor to get to Mónica faster. Apparently, cooking a full meal was more important than opening packages that had toys and fun stuff inside.

Dommes could be so silly, and I didn’t approve of the messaging.

“What is it, baby girl?”

For once, my running around didn’t spook Mónica’s cats, neither Princess nor Prince, as I reached the kitchen, but that wasn’t what got my attention.

No, my attention went straight to Mónica and the soft, knowing smile etched on her face, as she stirred whatever it was she had in one of the big pots she used when she was sneakily cooking enough that I’d have some to take home with me.

Which was another silly thing because I loved cooking, and I had a lot of food back in the house I shared with two emergency room doctors, thank you very much. It was sweet, though.

It also beat being forced to cook for her at all times, even when I was at my wits’ end, so… Nope. Not complaining.

Or going back to thinking about that part of my past.

“Uh,” I still hesitated, though. I hated it, but I was supposed to be working on that—giving myself grace or whatever my therapist had called it.

“Can I open the package you got? Because I know it’s the toy you mentioned, but I don’t know what it is exactly, and it’s distracting.

It’s also not fair because I’m not good at letting things go, and it’s a present , Ma’am.

And I don’t think you want to be cruel but taunting me with it like this is cruel. ”

Mónica just raised an eyebrow.

Of course. Dammed Dommes and their eyebrow raising practices.

“Oh, is it?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

I bobbed my head up and down, too, in case she needed the extra visual cue to see how much I meant it. Because I did.

“Come here, baby girl.”

“Uh?” I frowned. “I mean, okay, I will, but why?”

I might be confused by the command, but I obeyed. Mostly because I had my eyes on the prize, and there was no way I would give her an easy way out of giving it to me.

Her fingers were on me, cupping my jaw, the second I was within reach. A quick glance to the side showed that what she was cooking was some kind of veggie stew. Yummy . People in the north of Spain really knew their way around a hearty stew.

Whatever.

Not getting distracted—not even when my heart sped up, and I started to get horny and needing to squeeze my thighs together like a Pavlovian dog because Mónica was looking at me that way, and I’d never been good at denying her anything.

“Bend over the kitchen counter for me, will you?”

Okay, so I squeaked because I always reacted extra strongly when Mónica got all hardcore Domme with the orders and the hardened tone, but I still obeyed and did as she asked.

I also didn’t say anything smart when I saw her turn off the stove and place the lid over the top.

Had she really timed it that well, or did she just not care about the food?

I hoped it was the former, but I didn’t ask, and that deserved a reward.

“Stay there.”

I gasped. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Did I count the steps as she left the open-style kitchen and headed upstairs? Well, yeah. I might be making progress, but that didn’t mean I would suddenly become what some would call a completely functional member of society, and I’d more than made my peace with it.

I did more than that when Mónica came back, fifty-four steps later, and one of the things she carried was the rectangular box. Y’know, the one that had gotten me here in the first place.

“Are we opening it now, Ma’am?”

It was about time, but I kept that part to myself.

Mónica had sent me a picture of the package yesterday morning . I suspected what the contents inside were, but I didn’t know , and not knowing was the worst feeling ever.

“I don’t know,” Mónica said. I was about to quip something, but she placed the package on the counter right in front of me, so I decided to behave.

Maybe it worked for once. Who knew. Dommes could have their moments of not being actually mean, and it was hard to tell when something would pay off or not.

“Maybe I should just have you come on my strap, and we can keep the toy in that box for when you learn to be more grateful to your Domme, hmm?”

My eyes widened. Mónica wasn’t mean often, but when she was, it was such a mindfuck.

Lust, a twinge of fear that didn’t make me run away, but fucked up with my head nonetheless, desire I never knew if it should be there or not.

I mewled. I hadn’t even noticed the rest of the contents she’d carried with her.

Lube and her favorite strap with a condom already covering the dildo.

It was black, because most of her toys were black, and not as thick as some of them, but she liked it because of how the tip curved.

Or because of how she could make me scream with it.

Yeah, that was most likely it.

“Ma’am.” I screwed my eyes shut and counted to five before I glanced up at her. “Please, don’t tease.”

It wasn’t a limit. I loved teasing, but…damn. I wasn’t good at being teased in the moment it happened.

My begging just had her laughing. Cruelly, I might add.

“Yank your pants down, baby girl,” she ordered, “and spread your cheeks open for me.”

So, I was going to be fucked against the kitchen counter with the strap before I even knew what was inside the package? I whimpered. My brain worked overtime to figure out if it was fair, or hot, or how the fuck we felt about this whole thing. It was to no avail, surprising no one.

I kept obeying, though. Obeying was important and, more than that, it felt good. I liked knowing that I was serving Mónica, that I was giving her what she needed. The control. The sense of power. It was heady when I thought about it like that.

Heady enough, I almost didn’t feel the way the air hit my sensitive skin when I spread my ass cheeks like she’d asked, arching down my spine so that my ass popped out more. There was a yoga pose for it, but I was terrible at remembering their names.

“Good girl.” Mónica hummed. I whimpered as she trailed a finger down my side, toward my taint. “Are you good for anal, baby girl?”

I mewled. “Yes, Ma’am.”

I had run off to the bathroom before I called out for her. I was nothing if not efficient. And the good girl she kept praising me for being.

“Open the box, then.”

Eep!

I was that good?

“For reals, Ma’am?”

Mónica chuckled. I knew my speech regressed at times when I was turned on and excited and had lots of feels. I didn’t care.

“Hmm. I think I want to fuck you with both,” she said. “And your holes are so greedy, I think it’s the least we could do to keep them happy, don’t you?”

I did. Have greedy holes. Greedy holes she didn’t shame me or make me feel bad for. No, she just made sure to take me to Plumas for group play nights, and she let everyone who was interested have their way with me until I was putty in their hands.

“Yes, Ma’am.” I took in a sharp breath before turning toward her. “I love you so much.”

Getting emotional hadn’t been part of my plans for the day, but if I’d learned something in these past couple of years, it was that it was okay to get emotional at random times.

The people who cared about me were not going to weaponize it against me when it became convenient for them.

No, they were just going to hold me and make sure I had all my comfort items with me.

“I love you more, baby girl.” Mónica sighed, her face taking on that soft look. I knew she liked to complain about how soft she got with me, but it was one of the reasons why I loved her, why I trusted her with any of this. “It’s not up for debate.”

I giggled. She’d started saying that after I claimed one day that it didn’t matter how much she said she loved me, I’d always love her more. Maybe I’d gotten a bit pedantic with it.

Whatever.

The package.

That’s what I should be focusing on. Mind you, it was harder when Mónica popped open the bottle of lube and squirted a generous amount down my taint. And when she started using her fingers to massage it around my rim.

I got this, though.

I was a strong, independent woman.

Mostly.

I could deal with the stupid tape they added to the discreet packages because, apparently, keeping people from knowing it was a sex toy also meant making them wonder if it was some sort of a national secret.

Ugh.

Whatever.

I got it open, and then I brought it closer so that I could actually see, and?—

Oh, shit. She’d gone for the?—

I whimpered. I didn’t know if it was the realization or the tip of her strap pressing against my hole.