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
