The Man In The Suit Who Came For Tea

This is a blog dedication to @blacknightseve, who became my 200th follower on Sunday. His commission was “The Man in the Suit Who Came To Tea”, which inspired me to write up this memory from a few years ago: 
  
Sir came over after late on Friday night. He had been out at the pub and I had spent the evening cleaning my flat. I tidied up the kitchen and arranged my room according to the instructions Sir had sent to me. As well as the lists of subtle instruments of pain he would like to have at hand, he instructed that when he arrives at my flat, he would like a cup of tea.

A few minutes before midnight I am waiting in the kitchen. Everything is ready. The tiled floor is pleasantly chill under my bare feet. I have set out a cup, teabag, milk and spoon for him. The kettle is filled, but unboiled. The bedroom beyond is prepared and he will take me there when he deems it time.

The doorbell shocks me. I hurry to let him in and then he is suddenly in my kitchen. He allows me to step to him and undo the buttons of his dark coat. I feel the metal against my fingers and slip it through the buttonhole over and over, not daring to look up at him. Under his coat he is precisely dressed; shirt, trousers and waistcoat neatly fitted to his body.

I stand at the kitchen side and wait for the kettle to boil. He isn’t paying me any attention and I can feel his apathy waiting for me on the sofa.

I bring his cup of tea to him and sit by his feet. I hear the teaspoon gently clink against the porcelain as he stirs the drink a little. Two taps as he removes the spoon and I am told to stand in front of him.

“Lift your dress,” he tells me.

I gather my skirts and raise the material above my knees.

“Higher.”

My thighs are now visible to him but he is still unsatisfied.

“Higher.”

I lift the material all the way up. I am exposing my knickers – white ones as requested.

“Bend over.”

I curve at the waist and feel the shame play with the blood in my cheeks.

The clinking starts again, two taps.

A silence where I don’t understand what is happening and then I feel it.

Heat and shock kisses my skin. He is pressing the heated teaspoon into my thigh. I gasp a little and try not to flinch. I meet the pain and feel it shoot adrenaline through my body.

The spoon clatters to the tile floor. He sips his tea and I wait, trembling, for his next instructions.

A big thank you to @blacknightseve for his suggestion, and for helping me recall this episode from my days as a submissive. It has been a pleasure to write and I hope you find it a pleasure to read.
Jenn x

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