The next morning I arose early as instructed and prepare the tea. At the appointed time, I awoke my wife and served her in bed. After several minutes, she turned to me where I was kneeling on the floor and said: "While I am taking my shower, I want you to prepare my vegetable/fruit juice in the juicer, assemble my lunch and arrange my keys and phone for me on the front hall table. For lunch, you will have ham and cheese sandwich, chips and water. I don't want you eating anything else until I return. When I return this evening, I expect the kitchen and bathroom floors to be spotless. In addition to the work you need to get done today at home, I would like to see a dozen pages of research on the objectification of submissive males. I came across a piece by chance the other day which led to your stay in the closet. I enjoy the thought of treating you like an object, and I would like to see more ideas from you on how I might pursue that. I won't be home for dinner, I am having dinner with an old friend, so don't expect me back until later. I will call and let you know how I want to be received when I return. Now off with you."
My work as a consultant-from-home requires six hours a day of focusing on my clients' needs and producing the work product I sell. That usually gives me enough time to attend to the chores I am assigned by my wife. I immediately got to work on the juicer preparing the mix of Swiss Chard, Carrots, Grapefruit and Beets that my wife drinks. I didn't want to annoy her by not having it ready by the time she finished her shower.
Fortunately for me, when my wife walked in to the kitchen, the juice and her lunch were ready to go. As she sat at the kitchen table drinking her juice and taking her vitamins, she motioned me over to her and took my caged cock in her hand. "Phew, when was the last time you washed this?" she asked. I told her that I washed it as best I could each time I peed, but it was difficult to clear between the skin and the hard plastic of the cage. As the cage was new for us, it was an issue neither of us had thought much about. "I will come up with a plan for cleaning today and let you know." With that, she finished her juice and got up from the table.
I followed her to the front door where, after she had gotten her purse together, she motioned me to kneel at her feet. "Two kisses each foot and then I want you to stay kneeling for five minutes after I leave. Don't let me come back to check on you and find you not here." After I had placed the kisses on her feet, she slid on her sandals and without another word was out the door.
Of course, I stayed where I was on the floor. Not being able to see a clock, I am sure I waited more than five minutes before getting up to clean up the kitchen, make her bed and pick up the dirty clothes. It being Tuesday, it was laundry day and I would have to work in that chore among the others I needed to accomplish.
When the apartment was back in order, I took the laundry down to the laundry room wondering the whole time whether my cock cage was visible through my pants. It certainly seemed to me that all the ladies doing their wash were staring and talking about me. My paranoia was increased as the chattering was in languages I didn't understand. Nonetheless, I returned twice more to put the clothes in the dryer and then fold them when dry. In the interim, I did my work and it was lunch time by the time I looked up.
After lunch I found an email from my wife. The subject line said "Cleaning" and in the body of the message she wrote: "At 8:00 p.m. this evening, you will place your cock through the slats on the footboard of my bed and then tie your thighs to tightly to that board. Place you back restraint on and get one hand locked in place. There you will wait for me and when I return I will release you from you cock cage for a cleaning. Make sure that there is only candle light in the room and light some incense. Last, make sure that you can't see any clock from where you are standing, bound to my bed." That was all.
It was apparent that she intended to make sure that my hands were bound before she released me from the cock cage, fearing, with good reason, that I might just take matters into my own hand, so to speak.
By mid-afternoon, I had finished my consulting projects for the day and turned my attention to the kitchen and bathroom floors. When those chores were done, I started my work on "objectification".
What I found was that sexual objectification is the fetishistic act of regarding a person as an object for erotic purposes. Some people enjoy the roles of being bound and used as furniture, is also known as "forniphilia". Bound as a hat stand, table, chair or other piece of furniture, the submissive is no longer a person, but an object. A typical example from one blog: "For some time now I have had fantasies of being an object. I just love the idea of being made into a household object. So far I have been a drink holder. Which consisted of me laying on my stomach with pillows under me so that my ass was up and exposed. Then a sheet with a hole cut out draped over my body. Mistress, sitting next to me watching TV or playing on her PC, and all the while using my ass to hold her beer bottle. Ice cold beer bottle."
Other submissive men seem to enjoy pet play in which a person is treated like an animal rather than a human. In that role, eating and excretory functions are handled as with a real pet. Time-outs in cages are a regular part of the play.
