Making bread............

She carefully washed her hands. Softly she bent down, her legs rubbing tenderly together as she grasped the sack of flour, hefting it to the table. Her nimble fingers quickly untied the cord and gently reached inside. The cool, smooth flour engulfed her hands as she took out several handfuls. She turned swiftly, taking a hold of two tarns eggs and a pitcher of water..............

....The delicate texture of the eggshells she caressed in her hand danced softly across it's skin. Lightly she tapped on the shell as she held it to her ear, checking it's freshness. A swift, but gentle tap of the shell and it's gooey contents was reveiled. Her fist made a hollow in the middle of the flour. In went the first egg, and then the second. Lovingly her fingers wrapped around the handle of the pitcher of water. A puff of flour stirred into the air when she added it into the hollow in the flour.........


.....The slimy texture of the eggs squeezed through her fingers, it made her shudder lightly. Slowly her fingers worked the concoction, it slowly becoming sticky, clutching to her fingers, bonding them together. Scraping her fingers with her others, she added a bit more flour to the mix. Her palms pressing into it, massaging it deeply. Her eyes watched as it slowly took form. It's texture changing, becoming firmer, pliant. Her mind wandered, hands kneading it sensually as if it was a Master's body she was caressing. She could not help herself, ever so lightly her her pelvis began to grind against the hard table, her heat starting to ache.........


..... The dough became firmer, feeling more and more like the the strong muscles of a Master's flesh. Ever so lovingly her nimble fingers pressed into it's firmness. Her hands dancing across it's surface, molding it into the likeness of a Man's back. She could feel her loins yearning, begging to feel the pleasure of a Master as he took his from her heat. Lightly her fingernails dragged across the dough's surface, leaving their marks of passion across it. Her face became red with lust, she could feel her heat dampening with every press against the hard table against her pelvic bone. Oh how glad she was that the other girls were out doing chores elsewhere today, that her Master was busy with his scrolls clear across the house.......

.....She was alone, no one would ever know. She quickly washed her hands and let her fingertips glide across her collar. The texture of it sending shivers. Tho she may be collared, owned, possessed, the feel of the collar upon her neck opened her, entranced her. Never had she felt so.... "free". Free to release her true nature, free to be... herself. No training in the world could teach her what she knew in her heart, what she was, who she was, how she needed to be. She needed to feel her total submission in it's entirety. Her fingers slid down across his property, caressing the gentle lines of her collar bones and down across her chest. Fingertips floated over her soft, silken skin of her breasts towards her rock hard nipples. A gasp rushed past her lips as her fingertips brushed across them, knowing they now were his. Down across her trembling stomach, it's heat burning at her fingertips they danced, knowing it was her Master's. The fire in it longing, craving, consuming her in her hunger to serve......

....Eyes darted from side to side, a quick turn of her head to look behind. Giving her legs a chance to part a little wider in her stance. The touch sent shock waves throughout her entire being, making her moan, making her squirm. Deftly her fingertip pressed against her special spot, gently circling it backwards and forwards, causing her to growl with desire. Her legs began to tremble like a shaking bowl of pudding. Light whimpers raced past her lips driving her mind deeper into the upcoming ecstasy. Her other hand grasping hard onto the heavy table, digging her fingernails deep into it's surface......

.....Only if they truly knew what being owned did to her soul, what pleasures the feel of the collar upon her neck made her feel..........................

.....How it gave her a sense of purpose, a sense of pride.......

....How it unlocked, her beast within.............


....Again she washed her hands, the smell of her ecstasy wafting lazily past her flared nostrils. She turned back to the dough, blushing as she looked at it's shape. Again her hands stroked the dough's shape. A playful pat of the backside in the dough, the shape disappearing with every motion of her hands.
She let the dough rest a few before cutting it into two halves and placing them into loaf pans. She turned and opened the heavy iron door of the oven and slid them in carefully. It's heat biting at her skin. With a creak the heavy door closed. She was done, in more ways then one.........................