Resolutions, Day 44

Recommended listening: Hold Your Colour, from the album of the same name, by Pendulum.


My day today was a pretty even split between working from home, and tidying up the house prior to my flat inspection tomorrow. I was cleaning out the oven, scrubbing the toilet, getting into the corners of the shower… Even the heat pump filters and the rangehood – everything they mentioned on the list of things they might check. Despite it claiming to be a 1-2 business day wait, I still haven’t been able to collect the vacuum cleaner I bought last Thursday – so my best friend stopped by and let me borrow his, which I very much appreciated. And, honestly? I think the place is looking pretty good, if I do say so myself! The floor looks clean enough to eat off of – or, at least, to kneel on while I drink from my puppy bowl.

All this cleaning, though, all this stay-at-home sluttery, really got me back into the malewife way of thinking. I definitely could see it being a beautiful way of living for me in the future. Can’t you just imagine me, bent over and scrubbing the kitchen counter, shirt riding up just so to reveal a distinct lack of underwear? (It is Commando Day, after all). Would you resist going in for a quick little grope, or a short, sharp, slap to my ass? Or am I too clearly asking for it – so much so that you practically had no choice but to take advantage of what is so rightfully yours? It’s just a little bit of touching, after all – why, I should take it as a compliment that you find me so attractive!

(And, for the record, I totally would.)


Or perhaps you came back into the room to see me stretched out on my tiptoes, trying to wipe the very top shelf in the cupboard. Would your heart quicken to see me straining like that, hearing my little exertions as I struggle to reach the back of the shelf? What if I told you what I’d be wearing? What if it was, say, a cute little apron – and nothing else? What if it was this cute little apron:

I mean, you’d have no other option, right? Surely, it’d be your duty, as woman of the house, to step up and ravage this little slut into next week? Take me from behind, shove me up into the cupboard. No pesky clothes to get in the way – leave the apron on, though, it’s kinda hot like that. You take a couple of fingers and slip them inside me to- wait. Lube? This hole’s already lubed? You can’t see my face, pressed into the cupboard as it is, but it’s covered with a sheepish grin. I really was asking for it this time, wasn’t I? Well, you’d make sure I got exactly what I was asking for, exactly what I need – every last inch of it, over and over. And, if I’m very lucky, maybe you might see your way to fulfilling the “breedable” part of that apron, too.

(Yes, this is a breeding fantasy too, now. Just roll with it! There’s a lot of overlap there.)

I’d just love that, wouldn’t I? If you knocked me up right here and now? Made me fully your obedient little malewife, barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen? Cooking and cleaning, taking care of the home while you’re out having beers with the girls? Waiting for you to come home from a hard day’s work in the evenings, just so I can service you properly, in my place on the floor, my head between your legs while you relax and recuperate on the couch? Housebound for nine long months, yours to toy with while your seed nestles and grows within me? And when it’s all over – you’d do it all again, wouldn’t you? Of course you would – you know exactly what it is that I need.


Well, I’m sure we could see our way to- wait a second. Is that… dust I see on that shelf?! Ugh, forget it. Clearly I need a bit more househusband training first, before we get to all that. Hey, it’s ok, though! I’m sure you’d be happy to show me the ropes. Why don’t we start with how to best objectify myself for you? At the very least I could be good eyecandy, I’m sure. Thanks for reading.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s