Domestic Goddess

Yep, that's actually me.  I need an apron.

It's been an interesting week.

I've been at home mostly, having taken the week off work in order to make sure that my son was okay at his new school.  See my post here for full details.  He was completely fine.  Not a single shit was given that day.

Furiosa less so, but that's a story for another time.

As for me, I had 3 hours alone in the house every morning and a hankering for taking responsibility for as much household management as I could...  manage...  That's some pretty rubbish writing right there.

Interested in what I got up to for three hours each morning?  Then read on!

Mostly ironing.

There was some dicking around on the internet, and the first day I managed to crank out two blog posts, but there was no descent into any of my usual internet haunts.  No Flickr (beyond fishing out some choice captions for a blog post on the subject), no Imagefap, no passwordz and no WhatBoysWant (although see below)

I managed to drink tea, keep the house mostly tidy and get a handle on all the fiddling around that happens when someone starts school.  There's lots of forms to be completed and then remembered.  There's lots of questions to be asked.  There's lots of emails that go backwards and forwards.  It's a lot of fiddling around.

And I did it.  And I hoovered.  And I cooked stuff and remembered to pick up the Chap at the right time and had chats with other parents and everything.  I listened to Woman's Hour.  I even cut the ironing pile in half.  It was a really big pile.

And then on Thursday I started to wobble.  I got a really bad headache and my son got into an excitable, needy and noisy phase that has lasted until this evening.  The weekend has been busy with family stuff and Furiosa's pretty wiped out with work stuff, so I haven't really had a quiet moment.  Since Friday morning, this is the first time I've sat down alone with the computer long enough to write a blog post.  There's also something looming this coming week that I'm worried about.  More on that at the end of the post.

So I wobbled, and I made the mistake of self-soothing, once when I went to bed early on Friday night and then again in the morning, which was a really big mistake.  I'll come back to the mistake after a quick detour via the fine young ladies that I found for inspiration:

Courtesy of a horrible little website called What Boys Want

Not, perhaps, what you imagine my cup of tea to be?  Where are the Princess dresses?  Where are the broad-shouldered, stern-looking governesses threatening to spank me?  Where are the trappings of extreme wealth that make me think these women have me completely outclassed?  How do I, with all my fantasies, fetishes and gender politics getting in the way, still find these images of 'hot nn teens' exciting?

Here's my rationale:  Young, hot girls are better than me.  They are young enough and hot enough to reject me, because I am old, not very rich and have a problematic relationship with vanilla sex.

There are thousands of pictures like these on the site, but I only find a few of them appealing.  I remember once reading about a man who was addicted to internet pornography, who'd spend hours and hours flicking through endless pictures of couples having all kinds of sex, finding only a handful of pictures that he actually liked.  It turned out he was looking for some magical, mystical ingredient that rendered the handful of pictures appealing, while the absence of it rendered thousands instantly missable.  He could make these decisions in the blink of an eye.  He was looking for pictures where the woman looked like she was genuinely into it, and although he couldn't pin down exactly what that looked like, he knew it when he saw it, and it was incredibly rare.

I do a similar thing when flicking through huge picture collections, although I'm looking for a different thing.  It's partly to do with the pose, the outift and the attitude expressed in the face and body and it's also to do with the context from the rest of the image.  My usual fetishes apply (intelligence, confidence, arrogance, silk and satin, leather, shoes and boots, sometimes smoking and, weirdly, if they're holding an alcoholic drink in their hand).  It's a pretty strange list, although the most important thing is definitely the attitude expressed, and then the context.  I need to have the right kind of context for the picture to work for me.

And the magical ingredient I'm looking for is this:  I need to feel like they're looking directly at me, and I'm wearing a maid's uniform.

Take a look at those three pictures again.  The first one, I'm obviously a toilet attendant about to be verbally and possibly physically abused by a mean, spiteful member of the public.  I'm in the ladies' toilets, so I'm probably wearing a chastity belt which will be discovered and laughed at very soon.  The second picture is swankier, and the uniform is probably frillier, but it's probably obvious to her that I'm a man being forced to serve as a maid, perhaps at a hotel or a club that's known for having sissymaids.  She looks wealthy and intelligent, and probably experienced in having sissymaids serve her.  She might even treat me kindly, while still expecting service of the highest standards &c. &c..  The third picture looks like they might be discussing what to do with me now that I've served them their drinks.  It will probably involve some tests of my obedience and some demonstrations of my curtseying and shoe-worshipping skills.  All three pictures give me a powerful desire to curtsey.

I've spent quite a while trying to figure out exactly what it is that puts me instantly in the scene and makes me feel like I'm wearing a maid's uniform, but to no avail.  It really is a matter of knowing it when you see it.  Case in point:

BAM!  Instant sissymaid fantasy!

It's quite a poor-quality photo, but somewhere between the third lady's tiara, the second's facial expression and the fourth's height, a strange alchemy happens and I just get the feeling that they're looking at me as their uniformed, humiliated servant.

Anyway, back to the point, I had a wobble and self-soothed, which was a really big mistake, because of the guilt.  I always feel really guilty after masturbation, partly due to social stigma, but also due to sex issues that I've had with Furiosa.  It needs a whole post to fully explore, but essentially, she wants more than she gets, and I'm downstairs creaming my pants over 'hot nn teens'.  It's more subtle than that, but until I have time to write about it more fully, that's pretty much the long and short of it.

So then, my triggers for the wobble.  It was partly the headache and the needy child and the lack of peace and quiet, but it's also the looming stuff this coming week.  Because this coming week I'm back at work.  I've had a really nice week playing house and having successes with school and family.  I feel really comfortable and fulfilled with what I've achieved and what I've been able to do for Furiosa, and the results have been obvious and pleasing.  I've also been happy with how the blog is keeping me from getting too deeply entrenched with my fantasy stuff when it's upon me, which is a bonus.

But next week I'm back in the office, and I'm not sure I can get the same payoff.  I'm not sure if I can achieve, and I'm not sure I can keep myself off the fantasy stuff.  Housework is easy, there's just a lot of it, and I can happily do it in the knowledge that Furiosa will be pleased when she gets home.  Work stuff is hard and frightening and I can't see the results as easily, and I can't make the connection between doing work stuff and serving Furiosa.  I tend to avoid work as much as possible, even when I'm there.  Also, I've had a wobble and sparked my sissymaid thing, which I knew was coming, because it's the season.

I don't know if I can handle it, and that worries me.  So, erm, this:

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