Domesticity Is A Privilege, Not A Right
Domestic Servitude is so fucking complicated if you’re on the hiring end.
No, I don’t want you to just wear a French maid outfit around my house and beg to be spanked. No, I don’t want to tie you up and force your head into the toilet to lick it clean. No, this is not a scene we are going to play out.
Yes, I want you to show-up on time. Yes, I want you to clean everything for real. Yes, I want you to do this because you love service and you are skilled in the land of domesticity. Yes, I appreciate that you recognize this is a position, not foreplay.
If you are a person who wonders why anyone would clean for free and not get to cum afterward, then you are a narrow-minded asshole. Alfred doesn’t clean-up after Bruce Wayne because he wants a hand job later, he does it because he fucking cares, and because it is his job. I AM BATMAN. BE MY BUTLER. I HAVE A CAR I REFER TO AS THE BATPOD AND A LOT OF THE LIGHTBULBS IN MY HOME ARE BLOWN-OUT SO IT IS BASICALLY A CAVE WHICH MAKES THIS PRETTY MUCH THE SAME THING AS THE UNDERGROUND OF WAYNE MANOR.
Domestic Play is a thing, for sure, and can be a game partners play. It’s hot. This is where the ass-fucking-with-the-handle-of-the-feather-duster things come into the picture. Domestic Servitude, however, is this really simple, straightforward job that Dommes have the hardest time hiring for – because very few people understand that no one is getting laid somewhere in the process.
Bring me some coffee. Talk for five minutes. Then clean my goddamn house. Enjoy it. Ask to lick the soles of my shoes in the closet if you must, but be sure you’re only in there to put away my folded laundry, that you just washed.