French Maid Weekend: The Plan

Fantasy: One weekend my husband cleans the apartment from top to bottom, cooks dinner, manages to look pretty doing it, and is totally ready for sex afterward, while I sit back, read a book, and don’t lift a finger.

Reality: Wait…that’s his fantasy too?!

J will confirm that I have never so quickly and gleefully embraced one of his kinky ideas as I did the French Maid Weekend. I’m so excited about this that I could practically cum just planning it. (Disclaimer: J works weekends and has spent 95% of his free time since we married caring for an ill parent. I don’t want any of you to think he’s just a lazy, terrible slave. But I’m definitely ready for him to take on a more wifely role, and apparently so is he!)

Eventually I’ll buy sissy a maid outfit and some high heels for these occasions. (I hope he didn’t suggest this thinking it would only happen once….) I’m not ready to spend the money on that because we just made another major purchase. 

In the meantime, I think I’ll simply dress him prettily as befits a sissy cleaning house for his Mistress. He will be naked except for a pair of pink and purple lacy panties we ordered from Lane Bryant, and of course his leather collar. Perhaps I will lock up his cock, depending on my mood. I will have him put makeup on—something we have only tried once so far—and paint his nails for the weekend if we have no plans to go out. Throughout the day he will alternate between nipple clamps and his new anal plugs. 

I expect to feel some guilt the first time we do this. I’m used to being the cleaner, and I truly don’t mind it most of the time; to watch him working while I relax will be a little odd. However, I have a feeling that if I can get past the guilt quickly, I will luxuriate in this. 

I will relax on the couch, book in hand, while he scrubs the bathroom and the kitchen. I will sip my sweet tea, idly glancing at him as he dusts and polishes the living room around me, never truly acknowledging him except to remind him that he missed a few spots. When he bends over to pick up the things he’s left strewn about the floor I will stare at the see-through nylon covering his ass until he squirms with self-consciousness. When he squats to shine the glass coffee table next to my couch, I may stand up, bend him over that table, and smack that purple-clad ass until he’s whimpering from the stinging arousal. When he comes over to ask me if he can remove the plug for a while, I will take my time answering as I look my fill at his pouting face with his long-lashed eyes and his shiny red lips. I can picture how he will stare down at the floor, his expression half petulant and half submissive as he enjoys yet resents my reaction to his very pretty mascaraed and glossed face. 

At the end of the day, when I feel he’s accomplished enough, he will worship me with his tongue until I take my pleasure. 

J and I have discussed why this scenario appeals to both of us at length. For now, I’ll summarize: I deserve it, and he wants to do it. 

I can’t wait.

Mistress K