Whose bitch

Been doing laundry all day long. That includes both my brother's and my dirty undies.
In shifts with my own comfortableness I've been transporting myself down all seven floors and hanging, washing and separating white from color and what temperature each item can handle (I've even folded his socks).
Like a sweet, loyal, submissive housewife to a rich baron in the late 19th century.
And who says men can't be anyone's bitch outside a prison?