Chapter 3

My mother-in-law’s house was immaculate. It was full of antiques and decorated in a Victorian manner. There were signs she was well-traveled and, judging by the books on her shelves, quite well educated.

Francine regarded me like hired help. I don’t know if that is even accurate. I think she regarded me as less than hired help. She also saw me as a pervert who was motivated by sexual desires. I wanted to assure her that I wanted to clean her house – just not in the nude.

The truth is I would have rather gone to the beach with the family. I was here because Kim expected me to help her mother, and I thought that is what a dutiful husband would do. I don’t think Francine wanted to hear any of that.

I knew Francine expected absolute compliance. I had no idea why she thought I was going to be okay with any of this. The sheer audacity that she expected me to obey her without complaint or hesitation seemed strangely provocative to me.

The first thing we worked out was that my luggage would remain unopened until I received permission to get something and that I would be supervised at all times. There was no indication that at some time in the future she would trust me.

At home, my wife checks up on my Freddy and me to ensure that we are not tempted to take shortcuts. She rarely feels the need to directly supervise. Francine told me that I needed to unlearn the “lazy” way I had been taught to do things and learn the “proper” way to do them.

You may think that being naked with nothing but a cock-cage there was a sexual component to how things went that Friday evening. However, there was nothing further from the truth. Francine treated me as if nude was my natural state. She regarded my body with disgust or disdain- never touching me except to make a correction with the ruler.

Francine didn’t restrict herself to my buttocks and balls either. She wrapped my knuckles, my nipples, my tummy, and my backs and thighs throughout the day when she thought I was dawdling.

Francine taught me so many practical things:

The first thing was the proper workings of the ironing board. She stressed the Proper ironing motion and the importance of keeping the iron moving at all times; “ironing is flowing,” She’d say, “almost like performing a ballet!”

She ensured I knew how to properly read garment labels to ensure they were ironed on the correct setting; too low and there would be wrinkles; too high and a garment might scorch – in either of these undesirable situations, there would be painful consequences for me!

I felt that I already knew these things, at least on the basic level. Francine treated me as if I were a spoiled child who had never done a hard day of work in my life.

She taught me to Organize garments from lowest to highest iron setting both to be more efficient as well as reduce the possibility of scorching more delicate fabrics.

She demonstrated the importance of being organized by having enough hangers and of having the hanging rack open and near-by

She explained the sprays, starches, what they did, when to use them. I was taught the importance of reading the wearer’s instructions as to whether she wanted starch or not. A protocol for Francine was to properly label her ironing, so it was done as she wished.

I couldn’t wait to do this for my girls at home!

She taught me to inspect each garment to see if it needed buttons or other repairs; I was to set aside such items and tend to them; loose buttons on returned garments were not acceptable!

Francine demonstrated proper hanging and folding techniques. She did not speak twice, and she did not permit anything less than perfection in each and every try- failure meant doing it all over again.

I was pleased to learn about using fragrances and sachets as a finishing touch. Francine seemed mildly amused that I was eager to learn that and apply it when I got home.

She taught me the use and importance of a garment steamer in keeping garments like Women’s business suits looking good. Francine is a member of the Red Hat Society. She told me that I would never be permitted to attend their events but explained she was a Queen (leader of her local chapter).

“A founder or leader of a local chapter is usually referred to as a “Queen.” Members 50 and over are called “Red Hatters” and wear red hats and purple attire to all functions. A woman under age 50 may also become a member, but she wears a pink hat and lavender attire to the society’s events until reaching her 50th birthday. She is referred to as a “Pink Hatter.” During her birthday month (or the society’s birthday month of April), a member might wear her colors in reverse, i.e., a purple or lavender hat and red or pink attire.”

“That is very interesting,” I smiled politely.

“I did not ask your opinion of whether or not my passion is interesting,” Francine snorted impatiently as if she had just wasted time explaining what an elephant looked like to a man who could not see and had no frame of reference to understand what he was being told.

Francine started me out on ironing simple things like handkerchiefs and slips and, as I improved, She moved me on to more complex pieces. Before long I was doing lace-trimmed blouses and pleated skirts – I love such challenging pieces! At first, She stood over me through every step, but as my skills improved, She’d leave me at the board and come back periodically to check my progress.

I felt honored that she did not need to stand over me the entire time. Francine told me that she was unhappy she had to supervise me at all. “I thought you would make my life easier, but you are much more work than you are worth, young man.”

I was not sure how to respond to that, and I was happy that, for once, Francine didn’t seem to want me to reply at all anyway.

She demanded perfection. Things that weren’t up to Her standards had to be done over and likely merit a little of Her painful brand of “motivation.” Do things right, though, and she harumphed and gave me new things to do.

I graduated from ironing to floors – backbreaking on all fours with a sponge in my hand and a bucket. I washed floors at home, but Kim bought me a Swiffer to make it more efficient. This was tedious and I think Francine preferred it that way. She said it gave me time to reflect on my sinful and lazy nature.

I thought better of challenging her to say that I had very few vices and that I pride myself on being attentive and helpful. I assumed (correctly) she would have her doubts and put me to the test before she’d believe it. I committed to proving myself.

It was six hours before she let me have a break. “You’ll shave your hairy ass, legs, and pits. I don’t want to see any hair on your face or below.”

“What about the hair on top of my head, Ma’am?” I wanted to clarify before I cut off all my hair. I was certainly willing to do whatever my mother-in-law wanted by this point.

“Don’t be an idiot,” she demanded and handed me a straight razor and a man’s old-time shaving kit. There was a brush with water. I was used to using a classic red can of Barbasol. She scoffed that she had to show me how to shave properly as well.

“Get your ass in the air, and I’ll show you how I expect you to depilate your bottom to be smooth and presentable.”

I was not used to anal-play in any form of fashion. I would never have thought to try to penetrate my wife’s bottom during sex – not even with a finger. I would never have thought she would be interested in doing the same to me.

Francine had no qualms about pulling my cheeks apart and slathering me with cream. She used the straight razor expertly and then expected me to do it after she finished. It was not easy, and she seemed annoyed that I could not reach certain places on my body. “You need to become more flexible. This hair is intolerable. You have an ugly anus. Discolored and unpleasant to look at,” she said.

“I am sorry, Ma’am,” I apologized – it was the way I was, though. I wasn’t sure there was anything I could do.

Francine let me continue shaving unsupervised while she left to get another item for me to use. She waited until my ass cheeks and crack were hairless after several passes off the razor to show it to me. She called it a butt plug. It had a jewel in the center and was made of stainless steel and shaped like a bullet with a flange at the base to prevent it from being sucked into your anus.

My eyes grew wide.

“Surely, you have packed fudge at some point in your life, Jasper?”

“No Ma’am,” I had an inkling of what she meant.

“You didn’t explore with the boys in Summer Camp or Catholic school?” she suggested. I had never considered myself gay. I think all of us experiment at one point in our lives, but I was never tempted to do anything with another boy. I don’t think Francine believed me. She made me suck the plug – at first, I thought she meant for me to fellate it.

“You suck cock like you know what you are doing,” she yanked the plug out of my mouth just as I got started. She only meant for me to get it to lubricate it. Then she pushed the plug into my tight asshole and insisted I relax. I had no idea how to do so, and the process was painful- at first.

“This is the smallest plug I have, Jasper. If you are going to make such a lemony face I’ll have to plug your mouth as well. Give me a proper smile and just accept it or this will take much longer than it needs to,” she insisted. Once she had the plug seated inside the rim of my asshole, she gave it a twist and told me never to touch it myself.

“How will I use the bathroom?” I asked.

“I will show you that as well,” Francine admired my anus as if it was one of her antique flowered vases now. “I do not want your asshole gasping for air and opening and closing in front of me, Jasper. You must be naked while you do your work, but that does not mean I must be exposed to your disgusting male parts.”

I had no idea what she meant – I felt fully exposed and that my man parts were MORE on display with the plug and cage.