coffee is not just coffee

What has always been part of my slave life is the morning coffee ritual.

Even in my prior slavery, this was a given requirement each day. It marks the beginning of my slave duties each morning, although my slavery is always 24/7.

Now coffee it is at 7:30, though I have coffee prepared and am standing there at 7:15.

While this does not seem like a difficult requirement — most normals make coffee every morning too — it is a constant of my daily life, and is expected of me even when I am in service during the night. Whether I am sexually exhausted or not, it is the rule. It is the same ritual on weekends as on weekdays, although the time is variable on Saturdays and Sundays.

It gives me satisfaction to do this, as it seems to be the launchpad for Master and Mistress to start their day. I feel I am productive through them.

To be clear, the ritual is not just coffee being available, but me standing there with a tray of mugs and a coffeemaker fresh brewed beside me. I stand there till 7:45, whether or not Master or Mistress show up. It gives them satisfaction that I am standing there , obedient, submissive.

Mistress usually wanders in first, showered and dressed, around 7:20 or so, which is why I schedule my time at 7:15. She takes a mug from my tray and pours herself coffee, adding the half & half I’ve set out, then walks into the breakfast nook or takes it out on the patio. She may mutter a “good morning,” but maybe not. I stay standing with the tray, waiting for Master.

He comes out of his bedroom, often already on the phone, precisely at 7:30. He has been working since 6:30 by email and phone. He takes a mug from my tray and pours his coffee, black, adding sugar. He goes to the breakfast nook and sometimes makes himself a bowl of cereal. Sometimes Mistress joins him, sometimes not.

If both have been served coffee, I bring my tray and the coffee carafe to the table into the breakfast nook. If one is coming in later, I am to stand there holding the tray until 7:45. That is the rule.

Master K is a whirlwind from 7:30 to 8:00, even though he spends the time at the breakfast table. It is him texting business, taking calls, and reading the newspaper.

If both Master and Mistress have been served coffee from my tray, I am to stand outside the breakfast nook, within hearing but not in the midst.

Sometimes one or the other call me in, and I sit with them and pour myself coffee. I don’t eat much else for breakfast. They might talk with me or not. Usually they are busy with business. I respect their zones.

Mistress has more to discuss with me than Master. She will talk with me about the week’s schedule, about matters she is thinking about, about things she wants to do with me. She rarely gives me orders, but I pick up on things she is worried about and feels she needs to do, and I try to do what I can to take care of those things during my day and week. To be clear, Mistress does give me orders at certain times, but in the mornings she is just talking.

Master is usually consumed with business, but the one thing he does sometimes is to speak my middle name “Maura.” Which is my code, reflex, trigger, for getting on my hands and knees under the table and opening his pants and taking his cock into my mouth.

That is my breakfast.

I don’t know if it is a dominant thing or a man thing, but at times he’s been talking on the phone when he has come in my mouth.

I have been trained to do him without fuss or muss. After, I zip him up, and he is ready for work. At times he has left before I crawl out from under the table, sometimes before I swallow. It’s his dominant way. He leaves me on my hands and knees.

Mistress usually trails him by about twenty minutes. I follow her in those twenty minutes, fetching what she needs, bouncing topless and frantic for what she has forgotten. She sometimes gives me instruction for the day, managing her slave into the future hours, until she will see me again.

I am at the front door, handing her briefcase, She sometimes kisses me, perhaps tasting him on my lips and tongue. She climbs into her car and drives away.

I am alone. I pour myself a cup of coffee.

5 thoughts on “coffee is not just coffee

  1. My mornings use to be similar, getting my Master out the door half an hour before I had to leave. Things are different now, after moving, and we’re still working out the new routines.
    I miss those mornings.


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