Eleanor's Visit
I always found a strange, centering peace in what I thought of as "The Protocol." Whenever my high-maintenance mother-in-law, Eleanor, announced a surprise weekend visit, I didn't simply clean up, I adopted the role she demanded, that of a maid, completely. To me, the black maid's uniform, the crisp white apron, the black nylons, the heels were not just clothes, they were the signal that I could handle Eleanor's dominating personality completely.
As usual, Eleanor gave us little notice, just a text on a late Friday morning that she was coming to visit for the weekend and expected to arrive after lunch. When she got the text, my wife, Ellie, looked up at me, sighed. "Mother just texted," she said, "she's decided to visit for the weekend."
"When?" I asked, quickly trying to think what, if anything, was on my work schedule for the day.
"She'll be here in, I don't know, about two hours."
"Two hours?" I gasped, annoyed at the lack of notice, "I...I need to get ready."
Ellie gave me a you know my mother look. "Settle down," she said, "that's plenty of time. I'll go get it while you shower."
I nodded, went to the shower, stepped in. I made it quick but complete, dried off, found Ellie waiting for me in the bedroom; the small, pink chastity cage on the bed next to her. I looked at it, looked away; Ellie read my mind.
"You know her rules," Ellie said.
"I...I know," I said, getting on my pack on the bed next to her.
Ellie deftly slipped my flaccid penis through the ring, installed the small cage, locked it. "I see the appeal," she said, gently cupping my locked penis. "Small, safe, put away."
"Ellie..."
"She's right about one thing, you're so attentive when your caged."
"I have no choice," I said.
"I think that's the point." She stood, slipped the key into a pocket. "I'll leave you to change."
Changing was as routine as the cage at this point. The bra with breastforms, panties, a garter belt, black opaque tights, heels. The black uniform. The smart, crisp apron. Ellie comes back into the room just as I finish my apron, looks over me with a critical eye, knowing her mother will be more critical if I'm not properly dressed.
"Well?" I asked her.
"The apron, slightly to the left."
"Yes, Ma'am," I said, easily slipping into the mindset of the role.
Ellie smiled. "Sometimes I wonder why you don't do this more."
I glared at her but inside sometimes wondered the same. Why was the servant's role only when her mother was there? I dared not say that, of course, afraid that Ellie might do it.
"Sheets, towels..."
"I know," I said.
"Check for dust, you know how she is."
"I will."
"She'll check the tops of the doorframes, so please check those."
"I know," I said.
I was arranging towels on the bed 'just so' when I heard the door, Ellie greet Eleanor. I couldn't hear their actual words, just tone, mother and daughter. I quickly went downstairs, greeted my mother-in-law.
There were no familiar greetings, no hugs, only my stopping two paces back and giving her a curtsy. I felt her eyes on me, inspecting my uniform, the depth of my curtsy. When I stood, she handed me her coat without a word, expecting I'd take it and whisk it away to the closet immediately.
"My bags are in the car," she said, "there are several."
"Several?" Ellie asked. "For a weekend?"
"I originally planned for the weekend, Ellie, but after the state of things in the city, I've decided on a change of pace; I'll be staying indefinitely."
My pulse spiked. Indefinitely? The word echoed in my mind. A weekend serving my wife and mother-in-law was a performance, indefinitely was a lifestyle. Knowing Eleanor, I'd be spending the afternoon unpacking silk hosiery, intimates, all manner of dresses and suits.
I saw Ellie's gaze shift to me. There . There was a flicker of something in her eyes—not just sympathy, but the realization of our earlier conversation. If Eleanor stayed, the "maid" didn't get a day off. The uniform wouldn't go back in the box on Sunday night. If anything, there would be more uniforms, courtesy of her mother.
Then I saw Ellie's eye drift down, just for an instant, to my mid-section Not only would the maid be on duty indefinitely, I'd be caged indefinitely as Eleanor had always been firm on that rule—husbands were feminized and caged when in her presence.
"I'm going to freshen up," Eleanor announced, "I'll take tea in ten minutes."
"Yes, Ma'am," I said as she left the room.
Ellie watched her go, turned to me. "When...when was the last time you..."
"Two weeks ago," I said, knowing what she was asking. I'd been busy, we hadn't had sex in a month, I hadn't masturbated in seeks.
"She...she'll want the key," Ellie said.
"Can I...quickly...before she..."
"No, goodness, you know better."
"But it's already been two weeks, it could be...months," I begged.
"Months until what?" Eleanor's voice cracked through the room.
I looked away, knowing better than saying anything, but Ellie wouldn't lie to her mother. "Until he's permitted to...be released," she said.
Eleanor smiled. "Ahhh, there it is," she said. "You haven't been using the cage when I'm not here."
"No," Ellie said.
"Well there's a benefit of an indefinite stay. You have the key?" Ellie took the key from her pocket, held it out to her mother. "We won't be needing this for some time," she said, "for a good, long time."
Eleanor took the small key from Ellie’s palm, her fingers cold and deliberate. She held it up to the light, watching the way the brass glinted, before dropping it into the depths of her designer handbag with a definitive snap of the clasp.
ReplyDelete"A man who is 'permitted' his own release is a man who forgets his place," Eleanor said, her gaze drifting over my uniform with clinical detachment. "And a maid with a wandering mind is a poor maid indeed. Isn't that right, Ellie?"
Ellie nodded, though I saw her throat bob as she swallowed. "Yes, Mother. He's... he's been a bit distracted lately."
"Distraction is merely untapped energy," Eleanor countered, stepping closer to me. She used the tip of her manicured finger to tilt my chin up, forcing me to meet her icy blue eyes. "Since you’ll be staying in that delightful little device indefinitely, you’ll find you have quite a lot of 'energy' to spare. It would be a waste to let it sit idle while I am here to oversee your development."
She turned back to her daughter, her expression softening into a predatory sort of maternal pride.
"In fact, Ellie dear, I’ve already taken the liberty of making some arrangements. Since your husband will be... occupied... with his domestic duties and quite unable to provide you with certain 'attentions,' I've reached out to an old acquaintance of mine. A very capable, very substantial gentleman."
Ellie blinked, her voice small. "Mother?"
"He’s a specialist in a certain kind of 'maintenance' that a caged servant simply cannot provide," Eleanor continued, smoothing the front of her skirt. "I’ve lined up several dates for you over the coming weeks. He is remarkably well-hung—prodigious, really—and he knows exactly how to handle a woman whose husband has been properly sidelined. It’s only fair, don't you think? If he is to be the perfect maid, he must understand that his former role has been... filled."
I felt the blood drain from my face. The weight of the cage felt heavier, more restrictive, as the reality of her words settled in. I wasn't just being sidelined for a weekend; I was being replaced in my own marriage while I watched from behind an apron.
"He'll be arriving for the first meeting tomorrow evening," Eleanor added, looking back at me with a thin, sharp smile. "I expect the silver to be polished to a mirror shine by then. You'll want everything to be perfect for your wife's guest, won't you?"
"Yes, Ma'am," I whispered, my voice trembling.
"Louder," Eleanor commanded.
"Yes, Ma'am," I said, my curtsy deeper and more frantic than before.
Eleanor’s smile widened, sharp and predatory, as she watched the reality of the situation sink in. She began to pace slowly around me, her heels clicking rhythmically on the hardwood floor like a countdown.
ReplyDelete"A maid’s primary duty, after all, is the presentation of the mistress," Eleanor said, her voice dropping into a smooth, authoritative purr. "And since Ellie will be entertaining a man of such... significant caliber... we must ensure she is packaged appropriately. Her current attire is far too domestic for the kind of impression we want to make."
She stopped directly in front of me, her gaze raking over my lace-trimmed apron.
"Tonight, after you’ve finished the silver and turned down the beds, you will go to the guest suite. I’ve brought a specific ensemble in my luggage. You will lay it out on Ellie’s bed with the utmost care. I want her looking absolutely, undeniably fuckable for our guest."
I felt a hot prickle of shame crawl up my neck, my hands trembling against my skirts.
"You will prepare the sheer black lace bra—the one that leaves nothing to the imagination," Eleanor commanded, ticking the items off on her manicured fingers. "Pair it with the matching thong. I want the silk suspender belt adjusted perfectly to her hips, and you are to inspect every inch of the sheer black stockings for even the slightest snag. If there is a single flaw, you will answer to me."
She leaned in closer, her scent—expensive, floral, and suffocating—filling my senses. "Imagine it. While you are scurrying about in your flats, serving drinks and clearing plates, your wife will be sitting across from a real man, dressed in the garments you prepared for her. You’ll be able to see the outline of the lace through her dress. You’ll know exactly how accessible she is to him."
Ellie let out a shaky breath, her face flushed a deep crimson. She didn't look away from her mother, but I could see her chest rising and falling rapidly.
"He is a man who appreciates the finer details," Eleanor continued, turning her attention back to her daughter. "And he certainly has the... equipment... to appreciate them thoroughly. By the time the maid is sent to the kitchen to scrub the floors for the night, I expect you to be very well-acquainted with why I chose him for you."
Eleanor turned back to me, her eyes cold as flint. "Do you understand your instructions, or do I need to find a more 'focused' way to remind you of your place?"
"I... I understand, Ma'am," I stammered, dropping into a deep, subservient curtsy that made the cage press painfully against my skin.
"Good," Eleanor said, dismissively waving a hand toward the stairs. "Go. Start on the luggage. I want those garments steamed and ready. And remember—not a wrinkle. Your wife has a very big night ahead of her."