A Woman's Place - Part 2

Sammy blinked. She felt very funny. She felt dizzy. Dizzy, ditzy girl. The screen in front of her was dark. She was sure she’d been watching something on it just a moment ago, but now she couldn’t remember what it was! She was so silly sometimes. Silly girl, she thought. Silly Sammy.

Suddenly, James deposited a caddy full of cleaning supplies down on the sofa next to her. She looked up into his handsome face, and felt butterflies fluttering in her tummy. She loved her boyfriend so, so much.

“How are you feeling, baby girl?” he asked gently, and Sammy felt a pleasant tingle run down her spine.

“Good!” she chirped. “I wuv you!” Her face reddened. “Love you,” she corrected, looking down meekly at her knees. She felt very shy all of a sudden.

James chuckled and pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her in a tight cuddle. “You’re so cute,” he said, turning his head to plant a kiss on her cheek. “I love you too, sweet girl.”

Sammy let out a happy sigh and nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. She liked cuddles. He held her for some time, and she enjoyed the sensation of being wrapped up, smothered, safe in his arms. Then she felt a sharp pinch on her bottom and she let out a girlish shriek that made him laugh.

They broke apart, and Sammy pouted at her boyfriend. He’d pinched her bottom! Was that okay? She had a feeling she didn’t like that… but she couldn’t help smiling when she saw how happy James looked. She was okay with men pinching her bottom if it made them happy. But then she frowned. Was that right? Her head was starting to hurt from thinking so much, so she looked behind her at the cleaning caddy James had dumped on the sofa.

“Are we going to clean the house?” she asked, confused.

He chuckled. “No, silly girl,” he said, giving her a pat on her bottom. “That’s your job.”

Her job. Yes. That sounded right. For a moment, Sammy felt as though she might have been about to protest. The words were almost in her throat. But then there was a tingling in her head, and she remembered. An image of a big-breasted woman scrubbing the floor on her knees flashed into her mind. Her boyfriend was right. Cleaning was for girls. Women’s work.

She nodded slowly, and James patted her bottom again. “Then let’s get you dressed, princess.”

Sammy looked down at herself in puzzlement. “But… I am dressed.”

James chuckled again, and said, “Dressed for cleaning the house, silly! You have to wear your special uniform, remember?”

Sammy didn’t remember, but she didn’t want her boyfriend to think she was stupid, so she nodded.

“Good girl,” he said, and Sammy’s pussy tingled.

James started taking her clothes off, but when she raised her hands to help him, he smacked them away lightly. “No, no, Sammy. Let me do that.”

So Sammy stood there obediently, feeling a little silly, while her boyfriend stripped away her clothes one by one. First her shoes and socks, then her jeans and her shirt, until she was left standing in her underwear. He walked behind her to unclasp her bra, and when her breasts spilled out, large and perky, he reached around to squeeze them so tightly it was almost painful.

Sammy felt her nipples harden, and she gasped and pressed her thighs together as her pussy pulsed with pleasure. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, James was kneeling in front of her, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her undies and gliding them down her slender legs.

Sammy’s face was flushed with embarrassment as much as arousal. Something didn’t feel right. Why was she not allowed to dress herself? And should she be naked like this while her boyfriend was fully clothed? But then a sudden imagine popped into her mind of James in a stylish suit and herself prancing about in the nude with her bare boobs and bottom jiggling. Nakie girl, she thought. Silly, nakie baby.

She giggled. It was a high-pitched, gurgling giggle that made her blush to the roots of her hair. Grown-ups didn’t giggle like that. But was she a grown-up? She wasn’t sure. Maybe she was just a silly little nakie girl.

“There’s a happy baby!” James cooed.

Baby. There was that word again. But was it okay? Of course it was. Boyfriends called their girlfriends ‘baby’ all the time, didn’t they? Sammy smiled and giggled again. She was his baby.

“Now let’s get you into your special uniform, sweetie,” said James, and he guided her over to the shopping bags he’d brought home with him with a hand on her bare bottom.

Sammy smiled dimly. It felt nice to be led around. It felt right.

“Look what I got for you, sweetheart!” James announced brightly, pulling a skimpy black and white maid’s outfit out of one of the bags and holding it up.

Another image flashed in Sammy’s mind – a woman in a maid’s outfit just like this one, tottering around doing the cleaning with her wet slit exposed. Her own pussy wettened at the sight of the outfit. Slutty maid, she thought. Dumb whore.

“Fank you!” she blurted, and then she blushed again. “I mean, thank you.”

But her boyfriend didn’t seem to care that she’d said her words a little funny. In fact, he chuckled and tickled her under the chin, making her giggle again. Giggly girl. Happy baby.

“I’m glad you like it, little one,” he said, his eyes glittering. “Now, arms up!”

Sammy did as she was told (and wasn’t it so nice to do as she was told?), and allowed her boyfriend to dress her in her new maid’s uniform. The top just about covered her breasts, but did nothing to stop them jiggling about with every movement, and the skirt was so short that it didn’t even reach below the curve of her bottom, so Sammy found herself flashing her pussy when she took a step. Just like the maid.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” said James. “You need your special undies on too.”

“Don’t want underwear!” Sammy said at once, going red again when she realised what she’d said. She sounded like a slut. Sammy the skank. “I mean…”

“You need your special undies on, princess,” James cooed, and he didn’t sound like a boyfriend anymore. His voice was sweet and gentle and dripping with condescension. He sounded more like a Daddy. “Silly Sammy needs her big girls pants on, yes she does!”

Sammy winkled her nose at his tone. “Notta baby!” she insisted.

“Of course you’re not a baby, darling,” James cooed. “That’s why you get to wear these!” And he took a pack of large, toddler-style training pants out of another of the shopping bags. “Pull-ups for my big girl!”

Sammy started at them in shock. “I’m not… I don’t…” She frowned. She didn’t wear training pants! Those were for toddlers! “This isn’t wight… right.” She was a slut. She was a silly little girl. But she couldn’t be both, could she?

“Shhh,” James crooned gently, pulling her body close to him again. “Hush now, silly girl. Silly Sammy. You’re confused. But that’s okay. Thinking is hard, isn’t it? Just let me look after you. Just let Daddy be in charge.”

Daddy. Yes. Sammy thought she could hear again that strange, tinkling music she’d heard somewhere once before. Just let Daddy be in charge. Leave everything to him. She was just silly Sammy. What did she know about anything? She was only a woman. Only a girl.

A vacant smile spread over her face, and she barely noticed Daddy sliding her pull-ups up her legs. “There we go, sweetheart,” he murmured gently. “All dressed! What a good girl you were!”

“Good girl!” Sammy chirped in agreement.

“Now, go and clean the house, Sammy,” said Daddy. “Be a good little maid.” And he smacked her sharply on her padded bottom to send her on her way.

So Sammy got to work cleaning the house, vacuuming the floors, scrubbing the surfaces, standing on tiptoe to do all the dusting. It took quite a long time, because Daddy kept coming up to grope her tits or ass, to kiss her deeply and force his tongue into her mouth, or to shove his hand down the front of her pull-ups to “check for wee-wees”. But good girls let their boyfriends play with their bodies. Sammy could feel his eyes on her lightly bouncing breasts and the flashes of her training pants as she tottered about the house. Daddy’s property.

Something still nagged at her though, some feeling that this wasn’t right. Daddy was doing something to her. Objectifying, that was the word. He was treating her like an object. But she wasn’t an object. Was she?

She squirmed in place in the living room, having just finished the polishing. Daddy was off in another room. Should she really be doing this? Was this all women were? Ditzy maids who needed their Daddies? Then she realised she was still squirming. In fact, she was practically dancing on the spot, hopping from foot to foot with a hand pressed firmly to her padded crotch. Sammy gasped. She had to go potty!

The words spilled past her lips before she could even think about them. “DADDY!” Sammy cried at the top of her lungs. “I NEED MY POTTY!”