Calling my wife "Mistress"

"That's yes, mistress."
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"And the lawn needs mowing tomorrow," says my wife.

I'm tidying away whips, restraints and dildos before sleep. I'm still hard inside my chastity device. My back is prickly from the beating she just gave me. My mouth is full of her aftertaste. however, xena is sated and thinking of other things.

 "Yes Xena," I mumble. "The lawn."

"That's yes, mistress," corrects Xena.

"Oh." She's surprised me. It always felt too cheesy, too melodramatic to call her that. "You want me to call you mistress, mistress?"

Xena nods. "Yes... but not all the time."

"Just in the bedroom, mistress?"

"Exactly."

"Yes, mistress."

Last night she fell asleep over her book
leaving me kneeling in the corner.Find out how to get some of this in your life!

And that's how it's been for the last month. Our bedtime routine is as before. I kneel in the corner waiting orders. She has me run errands, tidy up around her. Usually she wants a foot rub. Sometimes something more happens. Then it's back to the corner. Finally, when she's ready to sleep, she lets me come to bed.

Except before, there would be a little chatter. Sometimes I'd initiate it. Often I'd get it wrong. Now the word "mistress" hangs between us like a barrier, and for those precious couple of hours she's as distant from me as a Roman domina from her slave.

Last night she fell asleep over her book leaving me kneeling in the corner.

I knelt there, wrapped in the scary, sexy knowledge that she takes my slavery utterly for granted. It's no big thing for her to have me kneeling in the corner. That's just what slaves do.

That thought was enough to make my chastity device tightened and my mouth run dry.

Ten minutes later, Xena woke up and went back to her book. She didn't even glance my way.

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