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Thursday, 23 February 2012

A Clean House Makes a Happy Home

I looked at the clock in the kitchen, I had ten minutes until He arrived home from work.  Dinner was in the oven and would be ready at 7.30pm, the time He insisted we ate every night.  I gave the house a quick look over – it was spotless and I was exhausted.  I poured myself a glass of wine and sat on the couch in my uniform; black heels, fishnets, and a traditional French maid's outfit made less so with the chest section missing so as to display my beasts - He says that they are too beautiful to be covered up behind closed doors.  I was confident that He would be pleased with my efforts today. 
I heard His knock at the front door - He never let Himself in, He liked for me to have to answer the door to Him dressed in my uniform.  He had a specific knock so that I knew it was Him and didn't answer the door to anyone else by mistake when dressed that way.  I rushed to the door, checked my hair in the mirror in the hallway and opened the door with a big smile on my face; I was always so happy to have Him back home.
"Good evening Sir"
"Good evening miss", He handed me His coat to put away as He walked by me straight into the sitting room.
When I made my way back to the sitting room He was running His finger along the mantlepiece checking for dust.  I was relaxed enough until I noticed His eyes move to the glass of wine on the side table a flash of disapproval flashed in them.  
"I see you finished your chores early today?  Early enough to drink in the afternoon?"  He picked up my glass and waited for me to answer.
"No Sir, I just sat down five minutes before you arrived home.
"I see...take a seat.  Here, enjoy your wine",  He handed the glass to me and waited.
I sat and hesitantly took a sip, "thank You Sir".
He left the room and I sat motionless, listening to the sound of Him moving around the house.  He was inspecting my work.
I could hear Him rustling about in the kitchen, cupboard doors opening and slamming closed.  I began to feel uneasy the longer he was in there.  I heard the water running, He called to me a few moments after it stopped.  As I entered the kitchen I registered the giant wooden spoon hanging on the kitchen wall behind Him, the spoon that I had come to respect and fear.  It was exactly a metre long, made of mahogany and had the words "A clean house makes a happy home..." burned into the length of the handle. 
I gasped as I noticed the kitchen floor - it was covered in coffee granules and cereal.  The running water I'd heard earlier was the mop bucket being filled, it was in the centre of the floor filled with hot soapy water, a cloth floated in the bubbles.
"You think that this is acceptable?  You think you have time to sit and drink wine when My kitchen is in this mess?"
His cool demeanour was making me panic.
"No Sir, of course not!  I'm sorry", I quickly dropped to my knees and took the rag out of the hot water.  I wringed it out and started clearing the mess.  I winced as the pieces of cereal and coffee dug painfully into my knees as I wiped at the floor and gathered the debris in the rag. 
I could hear Him tutting and huffing impatiently behind me.
"Faster girl.  My dear, you are a lazy one today aren't you?  Perhaps a little motivation will move you along..."
The spoon hit me square on my ass, I yelped and desperately tried to clear the mess more quickly. 
"Faster girl come on!  Put some effort into it you lazy mare!"
I scrambled to work faster, the faster I worked the faster...and harder it seemed, the thwacks came.  As I scrambled around on the floor the coffee granules were leaving a trail of colour in the wet, already cleaned parts of the floor.  I was fighting a losing battle. He was relentless with the spoon and He was barking orders at me but I wasn't processing the words. My vision had blurred through my tears and I tried to focus on getting the job done as quickly as possible. My arms were trembling as I wrung out the cloth in the bucket ready to wipe over the trail of coffee marks that looked like a road map drawn all over the tiled floor.
"Get up", He pulled me up by my hair and dragged me over to the kitchen table.
His hand still gripping my hair He bent me over the table and used His other hand to pull down my panties. Seconds later He pushed Himself inside me, forcing a sharp moan to expel from my lips. He started pounding me hard, His hand grabbed my shoulder for leverage, His fingers dug into my bone, bruising me. The edge of the table pressed cruelly into my thighs with every forward thrust. He yanked my hair hard and let out a deep groan as He came inside me. His hands left me and I felt Him wipe His cock on my ass before He put it away.
"You are a good little maid", He ruffled His fingers in my hair and pulled my shoulders for me to straighten up. He lowered to one knee and gently brushed at the remnants of coffee and cereal that had stuck to my knees.
"Go get yourself cleaned up babygirl."

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