Time to Submit

My phone vibrated, causing it to buzz on the top of my bedside table.  I woke up in the dark, disoriented.  A single notification, so, not a phone call.  

I squinted and looked for the alarm clock.  2:54 AM.  What in the world?  I reached for the phone.

It was a text message from Miss Morrigan.  Well, not exactly "text."  Just a single little icon of an alarm clock.

Still fuzzy headed, I typed in a short response.  "Miss Morrigan?"

"Hello pet."

"Everything okay?"  I asked.  "It's 3 AM."

"Yes.  Time to submit."

I let out a little exasperated gasp.  It was the middle of the night, and she was miles away.  I wondered whether she was just getting in from a late night of revelry, or whether she had simply been amusing herself with online games deep into the wee hours.  

"No," she continued, reading my mind.  "I don't want you to come over.  I just want you on your knees.  Now."

I gasped again.  She read my mind again.

"Don't tell me that doesn't excite you." 

Well, she was right.  I was already hard, and her latest text had just escalated my erection to Defcon Two.

I rolled out of bed and got on my knees beside it.  Like a toddler saying his prayers.  To an abitrary and capricious Goddess.

"Yes ma'am," I typed.  At this point, the autofill on my phone knew to put the apostrophe in the right place.

"Good boy," she responded.  "Good night."

I knelt there in the darkness, picturing my mistress turning off the light and snuggling under her covers, content and blissful with my submission.  My stiff penis bobbing in the cool night air.  She knew me so well.