I Like Being Her Pet

I am going through the clothes that I brought up from the laundry room. About 80 percent are her clothes, the remaining are common, as in bed sheets and stuff, and mine. Her clothes are to be hung on hangers. I riffle though the hanging clothes in the closet to find vacant hangers, and I glean what I can. I return to the huge bed on which I have laid out the clean and dry laundry. I attach her pants, shirts, et cetera, to hangers, and put them on the bar in the closet. I handle her, what I call, beautiful underwear, with care. I imagine these garment encasing her physical presence. I was there last night. I know what it is like.

I love to do this for my wife. I do other things too, but this is very personal.

Before my so-called retirement from active duty she had me "make the bed" only on weekends. Making the bed involved straightening the sheet and blankets if any, so that dust or cat does not touch the inside sheets directly. She limited my input only because we both knew that I had very little sleep in those days, so my involvement with homework was based on that. All of this changed a bit after we realized that lately I have had more time to prove my worth to her. I voluntarily assumed the chore of "making the bed" daily even though she did not request it. Since then she expects it every day. In fact, the few times when I neglect this duty for some possibly compelling reason, she has disciplined me because of it. This is where stealth submission will get a man.