Daycare (M-35, Ohio)

On my daily commute, my mind wanders to thoughts of my son’s daycare provider.  Every morning, I wind through the countryside and into an exclusive neighborhood.  Miss Bridget runs a top notch daycare out of her sprawling craftsman home, and it’s no secret that she has her ex-husband to thank for the house.  My fantasy is not about a McMansion on acres of manicured lawn.

I am aroused by Miss Bridget, a toned, mid-forties soccer mom who usually wears yoga pants and tank top over a sports bra.  Despite her casual appearance, she commands the attention of the children under her watch, and she demands the same respect from parents.  Notice I say ‘Miss Bridget,’ as I only had to be corrected one time, possibly our first encounter after a sloppy, ‘Thank’s Bridget,’ met with a deadpan glare and a simple ‘Miss Bridget.’  When I told my ex-wife, she joked that it sounded more like a dominatrix demanding submission from an obedient sex slave.

My ex is quite the opposite of kinky, perhaps why this thought etched itself into my mind, and it floats back every time I make the trip to daycare.  Miss Bridget is never without a bluetooth earbud, and on rare occasion, I’ve heard her on a call.  It was always a very curt, “Yes.  Okay.  We will discuss it later.  Thank you,” type of conversation that one would assume is one of her adult daughters.  However, I prefer to use my imagination, where she runs this unassuming childcare business by day, while tending to an older, naughtier clientele by night.

Her basement kept under lock and key, just as off-limits as her bedroom ought to be.  Behind the door is a curved wooden stairway and an inviting cigar lounge.  Conveniently, an exterior door also makes this room accessible from the walk-out patio.  The space is warm and inviting, but has a commercial feel like an exclusive bar.  Five heavy wood doors lead into individually-themed rooms, thoughtfully planned to meet many kinky fantasies.  The rooms include a warehouse, dungeon, prison cell, kinky office, and of course, a bedroom, each adorned with tie-downs and a plethora of toys hanging from the walls or in discrete cabinets.

Her exclusive list of clientele encompass the most influential and powerful members the community, maintaining strict confidentiality of their midweek pleasures.  Several submissives provide domestic services throughout the week.  One gentleman cleans for her, including the upstairs residence and daycare areas.  Another sub launders her linens and clothing.  The client who’s been with her the longest even funds grocery delivery, so you’ll never see Miss Bridget at a grocery store on her days off.  But my fantasy doesn’t start until weekend, after Miss Bridget has put in long and draining week, with “office hours” that start at 6:30 a.m. and run until as late as 10 p.m.

No adult clients from Friday thru Sunday, so when the last child is picked up no later than 5:30 p.m., her weekend officially begins.  Within those next 30 minutes, she scurries to shower and quickly clean up, changing into a dress and heels, putting her hair up and applying modest makeup.

The doorbell rings promptly at 6:00 p.m., like clockwork.  She’s anxious as she rushes to clasp the final earring, checking her appearance in the foyer mirror before answering the door.  I’ve had just enough time to drop my son off at his mother’s house for the weekend and stop along the way for carryout.

“You look gorgeous,” my heart melts every time she opens the door.

“Thank you, Sir,” she takes the paper bag of food and dashes to the kitchen to plate our meal.

And the weekend begins for Bridget.  This is her time to give up control, to have zero responsibility aside from pleasing me, the title of ‘Miss’ being replaced by ‘young lady,’ ‘slut,’ or ‘whore.’  Five days without sexual contact since that is not permitted with her clients, and I do not allow her to play with herself without my permission, she is very ready for a release.  Her orgasms are a gift for me, and she obediently waits for permission to cum, even under ridiculous amounts of stimulation from my tongue or a vibrator.

She loves to be bound and restrained, while attending to my sexual needs.  Her light skin quickly reddens with a firm slap, and I’m careful to keep all redness concealable by yoga pants and tank tops.  Friday evening ends with a review of Bridget’s journal, a small bound book she jots down daily tasks, temptations, and/or broken rules.  An often severe spanking at bedtime is our ritual before cuddling and sleeping soundly into mid-morning.

By late Sunday afternoon, I’ve used every hole and drained her body of the pressures of her work week.  She gets so much pleasure in letting go of all her responsibilities, but we both treasure the ability for her feel humilated and loved at the same time.  Plus, Bridget becomes a better Mistress with each weekend we spend together.