Joyce and Sarah were still staring into the sunset when suddenly Jon appeared on the porch. “Hi, ladies! How was your day?” They looked at each other and said, “Eventful and very fun!” What did you do?” “Oh, nothing, really.”
“Who wants me to make dinner for them?”
Sarah shot a look at Joyce that unmistakably conveyed that Sarah had plans that didn’t involve her. They usually did everything together but there were times when either of them might have plans that didn’t include the other. This was one of those nights. “Not me”, said Joyce. “I’m going to take a bath and go to bed. G’night, you two!” And she headed into the house.
Sarah said to him, “Would you be interested in making your fantastic gumbo for me? I’m sure that I have everything that you need at my place. Come on! It’ll be great!”
Jon had known the second that he saw her that the word “No” wasn’t going to be coming out of his mouth that night, no matter what she asked. “Absolutely! If you have all of the ingredients we can get started right away!” They got in their separate vehicles and headed for Sarah’s place, arriving ten minutes later.
“Come on in, Jon. I’m going to change clothes. Why don’t you pour a couple glasses of wine for us, but don’t start anything else until I get back.” Jon got out the glasses, found the wine charms that Sarah liked and clipped them to the stems. Jon’s was a swirling, twisted, random shape while Sarah’s was an actual silver bell, though a miniature one. He filled the glasses with Black Star Farms Red House Red wine. It was very flavorful and a little on the dry side, a great pairing with his gumbo.
And then Sarah walked in. She wore a closely-fitting red leather vest, a straight black leather skirt that fell to her knees, and still wore those killer five-inch black platform boots with the red highlights with the laces up the back. Jon was a sucker for the boots on their own. When he saw Sarah in this outfit he nearly lost his powers of speech. He took a big drink of wine. She walked up to him with her hands behind her back.
“So, Jon, will you make your gumbo for me, and make it in the way that I direct?” Jon’s lips stuck together as he started to respond. “Of course, Sarah. Just tell me what you want me to do.”
She smiled broadly. “We’ll name the dish ‘Ms Compliance’s Gumbo as rendered by her Polycapable Epicurean Technologist’. You will call me MsC. I will call you, well, you’ll see. OK so far?” He nodded slowly. “Good. Then…” she drew her hands from behind her back to reveal an eighteen-inch long black leather collar. She said, “You will wear this while dinner is being prepared and eaten and until the dishes are done. OK so far again?” He nodded again. She buckled the collar around his neck. “Excellent.”
“Now, you can’t cook in those clothes. Go in the bathroom and put on the items that you find there, and only what you find there.” Jon hustled off. Sarah took a seat on a kitchen stool and sipped her wine thoughtfully. Her adrenaline was flowing just as strongly as she imagined his must be. She needed to steady herself quickly.
Jon came back in only a few minutes. He had followed her instructions explicitly and was glowing bright, scarlet red. He had found a long leather apron that slips over his head , behind his neck and then tied behind his back. Sarah—or, rather, MsC—had altered it by cutting out a square section that was strategically located below the wearer’s waist. Jon was also wearing the thick leather pouch that he had found there, and absolutely nothing else. There was a bell attached to that pouch. He stood in the kitchen unable to speak.
“Excellent! You follow instructions well! Here are the rest of the rules for tonight. This evening is not about sex. You will not see my naked body. I will not touch you sexually. There will be no coitus involved. Do not touch me unless I direct it. Understood?” Again, all Jon could do was to nod. MsC smiled in a way that caused him to shiver to the soles of his bare feet.
“Now: to the kitchen! You will have five minutes to get out everything that you need: all of the ingredients and all of the tools that you want to use. At that point I will be setting an alarm for a random period of time, anywhere between seven and ten minutes. When that alarm goes off I will be applying some sort of, shall we say, ‘Cooking Constraint’. The constraint will stay in place until I decide to remove it, IF I decide that it should be removed. Do you understand? Do you agree to these terms?” Once again, all Jon could do was to nod.
“Oh, and by the way. That bell that’s hanging there? Don’t let it ring. I’ll be keeping track of the number of times that it rings. See this?” She held up a black riding crop. “You’ll enjoy one application of this for each ring that I hear.” Jon simultaneously felt dread and desire. This time he was able to both smile and nod. “Good! You’re so agreeable! You’re as malleable as Play-Dough, aren’t you?” “Like putty in your hands, MsC.”
“Well, then, time starts now!” Jon grabbed his wine glass and swallowed it in a single gulp then poured another. Quickly he pulled out the green peppers, onion, celery, andouille sausage, shrimp, olive oil, flour, salt, pepper, garlic, chicken broth, and Creole spice mix. He needed a large stock pot, a large knife, measuring cups and spoons, wooden mixing spoons, and a whisk. Gathering these items took the entire five minutes. MsC seemed to have this time out well so far.
“Ok, the timer is set! You’d better get that stuff chopped pretty quickly! Who knows what the future holds???” He set to the task of cutting up the vegetables and sausage, something that usually took him about fifteen minutes to accomplish. He was working as quickly as he could although his hands were shaking badly. At the six-minute point he was nearly done. The timer went off.