Serving Drinks by Lynn Townsend
Jim glanced at the timer; nothing quite like a countdown. Even in punishment, which his slave so richly deserved, a burned dinner would serve no one. A little time.
“Get me a drink,” he ordered. “Iced tea, with plenty of ice.”
Helen opened her mouth, then closed it again. She was learning that lesson, at least. Unless he gave her permission, there was no need to talk. She filled the glass with ice, then poured tea over the cubes. They clinked together like chattering teeth. Two springs of mint and a spoonful of sugar, just how he liked it. She slid a long-handled spoon into the beverage, stirred, and then brought it to the table. She moved a coaster into position and sat the glass on it.
“Lovely,” he said. “Turn.” He positioned her, ass toward him. “Bend
