Mornings are my favorite part of the day.

Once I’m out of bed that is. I hate having to wake up. Master is such a sweety about it though. He almost always wakes up in a good mood and he’ll stroke my face or hair, hug me awake. “Time to get up, snooks.” he’ll say, kissing my cheek.

He calls me snooks when he isn’t calling me cunt. Doesn’t that just make you go “awwww!” (It makes me go all melty inside anyway).

He heads for the bathroom to shower, and I have to grumble a bit just to make sure the Gods are aware of my displeasure at having to leave the warm comfort of the bed. “Brrrr! It’s cold.” or “I’m tiiiiired. Boo.” or “Mornings suck ASS. *grump*”

And then I’m all good.

We get up early. 5:30-ish or so. Sometimes earlier, like yesterday I was up at 5:00 making boatloads of biscuits and gravy for Master to take to work for the guys. The day before that I made cinnamon rolls for the guys. (I feed them so much I’m starting to plan them into my grocery shopping)

I’m really focused on service in that first early morning hour. That’s why I’m up, that’s why I’m here and not getting ready to go to my own job.

Actually, the first service I have to perform is to feed the cats because they won’t get outta my face (or off the counter or off my legs) until I do. So once I’ve serviced the real masters of the house I can then concentrate on serving Master. ;-)

It’s very quiet in the mornings. The sun isn’t up yet, there is no traffic or noise or lights way out here. The house is calm, peaceful. It’s lovely really.

I make coffee first, then start his breakfast. Waffles usually (my new waffle iron is awesome, btw), sometimes eggs, sometimes toast and cereal. I set his place at the table and for some reason I really like doing that bit – setting that perfect table setting. Silverware, coffee, food, a glass of water with two vitamin tablets laid next to it. And the remote. He likes to watch the news in the morning.

Then I pack his lunch. Leftovers from last night’s dinner if there are any. Two sandwiches if not. A piece of fruit, a snack cake.

The part of morning service that I love to hate? Having to go out and start his truck. It’s cold, windy, snowy. I’m still in thin pj’s. I throw on a coat, slip on my boots and head out into the dark. Unplug the block heater, scrape the snow and ice off the windows, set the defroster just right, bring in the previous days coffee cup.

That moment in the dark early morning when I step outside is when I feel the most submissive. There are times when I hate having to do it, like when it’s below zero and the wind is whipping – but if he ever stopped expecting me to do it? I’d be so sad. I love that I hate doing it and have to do it anyway. Masochists. We’re such a weirdly wired bunch.

After that is about when he’s finishing up in the shower and calls me in to dry him off. I’m noticing that he’s calling me in there less and less often and I’m struggling a bit with that. I have to keep reminding myself that service isn’t for ME, it’s for HIM and if he, for whatever reason, is doing it himself, I can’t get petulant about it.

I get to get my own cup of coffee then, and take a quick pee if there is time. I’m usually doing the pee-pee dance by then. I sit at the table with him while he eats and watches the news. We’ll talk a little bit about the day and if there is anything he expects me to have done before he comes home, an errand ran or the snow cleared, this is when he lets me know. We discuss the coming night’s planned menu if I have it. If I need permission for something that day, that’s the time to ask. Otherwise I am s.o.l. as he can be hard to get ahold of once he’s out the door.

The very, very best part comes next.

He sits down on the steps to put his boots on. I sit on the step directly behind him and give him a little bit of a massage as he’s putting on his boots. Then he leans back against me, I put my head on his shoulder and we take just a few minutes to connect. We talk about how much we are in love, tell each other that we’ll miss the other that day. I tell him to drive safe and come home in one piece, he tells me to be careful and take care of myself.

We stand up, eye to eye because the only way I can be eye to eye with him is to stand on the steps while he stands on the floor, and he crushes me in a bear hug, plants a solid, almost-painful kiss on my lips, and gives me a couple of nipple tweaks or ass slaps for good measure. I mean, we can’t be TOO sappy, right?

Then he’s gone, and there’s a quiet stillness as he leaves.

Of course, then the kids get up and all hell breaks loose. But I love those early mornings with him. It is the very best part of my day and I am so thankful that he gives me the opportunity to serve him this way instead of sending me off to work and serving him with an income. There isn’t a paycheck in the world that is worth missing out on this.

Happy Birthday, Master. I love you.

~cunt

I haz it.

~S