Perfect morning

Morning light sliced through the half-open blinds.

Ralf stirred, stretched, and felt the warm, exhausted mouth still working on him with the same feather-light devotion it had kept for eight straight hours. Emily’s jaw trembled; her eyes were swollen nearly shut from crying, but she hadn’t stopped once.

He yawned, grabbed a fistful of her ponytail, and yanked her off with a wet pop. She flew sideways, sprawling across the sheets, gasping for air.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, hawking and spitting a thick glob straight onto her upturned face. It landed across her cheek and nose; she didn’t even flinch anymore.

He rolled out of bed, scratched himself, and padded barefoot down the hall. Rebecca lay exactly where he’d left her: naked on the living-room rug, surrounded by the dried evidence of yesterday’s games, limbs stiff from sleeping on the hardwood.

Ralf walked up and drove his bare foot hard between her legs. The kick landed with a dull, wet thud against her bruised sex.

“Up, ****. Kitchen. Eggs, bacon, coffee. Extra crispy bacon. Move.”

Rebecca jolted awake with a strangled gasp, curling instinctively, but scrambled to her feet and stumbled toward the kitchen, thighs pressed together with every painful step.

Ralf continued to the downstairs bathroom. He didn’t bother knocking. Kinga was exactly where she belonged: curled on the bathmat in the dark, shivering, eyes wide and hollow.

“Morning, toilet.”

He dropped his boxers, sat on the seat, and immediately started pushing. The smell filled the small room instantly. While he went he reached down and idly slapped Kinga’s face (left, right, left) in lazy rhythm, just hard enough to keep red marks blooming.

When he finished he spread his cheeks.

“Clean.”

Her tongue went to work without hesitation, thorough and mechanical, until he grunted in satisfaction.

“Good girl. Stay put.”

He flushed, stepped over her, and moved to the master bathroom upstairs. He turned the shower to scalding, washed yesterday’s sweat and sins off his skin, and spent a long time just standing under the rain shower head, grinning at the ceiling.

Clean, refreshed, and starving, he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed downstairs where the smell of bacon was already drifting through the house.

Ralf sauntered into the kitchen, towel still slung low on his hips, hair dripping. The table was already set: three plates loaded with scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, buttered toast, and steaming black coffee. Rebecca stood at the counter, naked, bruised, eyes downcast, hands clasped behind her back.

He dropped into the chair at the head of the table, pulled his own plate closer, and started eating like a king.

Emily crawled in on all fours, leash trailing behind her, collar jingling softly. She stopped at his feet and sat back on her heels, waiting.

Ralf took a long sip of coffee, then reached over and swept Rebecca’s plate off the table with one lazy motion. Eggs and bacon scattered across the tiles in a greasy mess.

“Floor food for the pigs,” he said, mouth half-full.

Rebecca dropped instantly to her hands and knees and began eating straight from the floor (no hands, face buried in the mess, tongue scraping up every scrap).

He did the same with Emily’s plate a second later. Toast skittered across the kitchen, bacon shards sliding in grease.

“Eat, dog.”

Emily lowered her head and started lapping at the scattered breakfast, soft whimpers escaping as she obeyed. Ralf nudged a piece of bacon farther away with his bare foot just to watch her scramble after it.

He leaned back, chewing slowly, watching the former principal and her cheerleader daughter **** themselves on his kitchen floor while he enjoyed his meal in peace.

When Rebecca dared lift her head too soon, he flicked a piece of eggshell at her face.

“Did I say stop? Keep going until the tiles are spotless. Both of you.”

The only sounds for the next ten minutes were chewing, licking, and the occasional humiliated whine.

Ralf finished his coffee, set the mug down with a satisfied clink, and smiled.

“Best breakfast I’ve ever had.”