Where the Fuck Are My Pastries

So my slave invited me over for a relaxing weekend. He asked me if I wanted a cooked breakfast or pastries. I said I fancied pastries and he said he would sort it all out. Well, morning came and morning went and I didn’t see a single pastry. As you can imagine, I wasn’t pleased so it called for one thing. A nice spanking to serve as a reminder not to make promises you can’t keep.