How do they always know?

Scampering back in from the quilters all that was needed was some water, some caffeine (not necessarily mixed together) and to stop moving. The coffee was just made and one was idly wiping down the bench while contemplating a biscuit to go with it, when the door slid open and He appeared. Grabbing one by the hand He started to lead one to the bedroom...

Umm... coffee?

Sex, He replied firmly

But the coffee is made...

You said when you went out that you would put me back to sleep when you came home if I woke up.  

Yes, but that was before coffee was made... 

Well I'm awake

Already one could feel the argument being lost. It wasn't just the whining, wheedling tone one had adopted; it was the fact that He doesn't drink coffee nor understand the perfect temperature thing L

Come and sit on my face He said.

Sighing one complied and squirmed around as He proceeded to find as many sore spots as he could... there was quite a few might one add. It was when He reached up for the poor nipples that one really squeaked in protest...

Then come and sit on my dick He said, as though it was the most reasonable of compromises

But that is really going to hurt too...

And it did... made all the worse by Him saying faster, harder, make me cum

And the coffee was cold by the time He was finished torturing using one small slave...

Bastard!