Mature Topic, Of A Sexual Nature
He liked the idea of service. Whenever he performed a service that pleased his wife, he would smile, absolutely glow, at her words of approval. Gradually tasks and duties became his responsibilities. He hoped the nature of certain tasks would convey to his partner that he was being more than helpful, more than responsible.
One day, Sara Beth (his wife) returned from a trip to the green grocer and fishmonger to find Rupert (him) scrubbing the toilet bowl, stark naked, wearing only the long rubber gloves he deemed necessary for sanitary considerations.
“Why are you naked?”
“I don’t want my clothes to get stained by the bleach and other chemicals.”
“Is that why you have an erection I could hang clothes on?”
Rupert had no answer.
Sara Beth was truly puzzled. “Who would get turned on by this drudgery?” she thought. But her Rupert? He was strong, assertive, successful. Rupert had retired at 55 from a financial services career, was a dedicated fitness buff, a devoted father and grandfather. And faithful. Not even porn movies or magazines had ever entered the house. His e-mail box, to which she had access for ease of maintaining financial accounts, never had any lewd or obscene materials.
She had heard about these subservient types, from television’s pop psychologists or the magazine articles she had read while waiting at the hair salon. Submissive, they were called or simply subs. The sub would have, or want to be under the control of, as the magazines pointed out, a dominant. Someone the sub would obey. But she didn’t feel particularly “bossy”, hardly at all.
“How in Heaven’s name can I punish a man who does nothing wrong? How can I be one of those dominants in the leather corsets and fishnet stockings? I’m no more one of those than I am a circus clown or a beauty pageant contestant?”
She admitted she didn’t have answers to the riddle that her husband had now shown himself to be. At least they didn’t have to hire a maid. That was a plus.