To say I was in two minds about Heather returning home would be a jaw-dropping understatement.
At times, I felt such a sense of dread, shame, and almost painful humiliation that I would find myself rooted to the spot, unable to move, shaking in horror at some re-lived memory of the preceding days.
At others, I would almost float about the house, high on love, and sweet feelings and rapturous wonder. In fact, perhaps I felt like this all the time, even when the shameful memories intruded.
For so long I had had these shameful fantasies. For so long I had been indulging in thoughts about being cuckolded, about being dominated, even humiliated by women. And not just women in the abstract, but, my wife.
At first it had been less personal, but lately, for the last few years, I’d begun actually fantasising about Heather dominating me, about Heather giving me orders, about Heather fucking other men. In my favorite fantasy, I was going down on her, her soft thighs pressed softly against my ears, her fingers pressed gently against the back of my head, as she pulled me ever so slightly into her, and her voice, loving, gentle. "That’s it Cary, go softly, my pussy’s so sore from fucking Steve. That’s it, suck the come from your lovely wife’s pussy."
And then, the horror - she’d found out. Everything. She was so angry, so hurt and angry. And why woulnd’t she be? She had every right. And now, oh God, the fantasy had intruded. No, not intruded - taken over - the reality. She had fucked another man, let me watch, shown me what the reality of being a wimpy cuckold husband really was. It had nearly blown my mind. The pain, the hurt of seeing Heather, my Heather, held down and taken, mounted, fucked by another man. Hearing her make the sounds that I had never heard her make before. Seeing the look on her face as his cock drove her to orgasm after orgasm, seeing his come dribbling from her pussy, listening to her words as she told me, that she’d loved it, that there was more of this to come, that this would be my life from now on, that I would never make love to her again.
At least, at least there were consolations. Wonderful consolations. She had told me I could wear women’s clothes. Wonderful, soft, feminine women’s clothes. Of course, since she’d been away, I’d hardly been out of women’s clothes. I was wearing a skirt and blouse right now as I cleaned and made sure the house was perfect for her return.
I loved wearing women’s clothes. The feeling of slky panties was the best. Just wearing a pair made me feel that nothing could spoil the good mood that began as soon as I pulled them on. Going completely dressed was the very best. Soft pantyhose on my legs, the wonderful warm feeling on my thighs. A soft chemise under a tight silk blouse. And so feminine, a skirt and heels.
I had resolved to meet her wearing a full set. There could be no hiding anything now, so what was the point? This was my life now.
As the hour approached I became more and more nervous. Several times I ran back to the PC to check her last email.
"Cary,
I’ll be home by 3:00 on Sunday. Don’t meet me at the airport, I’ll make my own way there. I want the house to be spotless. I will be inspecting it. Have something ready for our dinner at 7:00. In fact, plan all the meals for the next week. You’ll be doing all the cooking from now on.
Apart from that, don’t worry. From when I get home, we’re not going to have any recriminations. I will not be throwing your past behaviour and dishonesty in your face. I don’t want to be that sort of person. What is done is done.
Just in case you might have some lingering doubts about what I said to you while I was away - forget them. I meant every word. I wasn’t acting or saying things for effect. You will be doing everything I say from now on, and I am going to do exactly what I please. Get used to it.
I love you, and I always will. Looking forward to seeing you,
Heather."
Was this the beginning of something wonderful in our lives, all my fantasies come true? Or would I find that the reality of what I’d always dreamed of was a terrible, tortured existence of pain and humiliation that I had brought upon myself?
What was the worst that could happen? What could be bad, so bad that I couldn’t take it, that hadn’t already happened? I bit my lip and strained to imagine. Nothing, nothing except one great black thought. What if Heather stopped loving me? That was the only thing. Noting else mattered, or maybe it did, but in a good way. Only if she stopped loving me. And yet, and yet, there it was in black and white on the screen. "I love you,
and I always will." I had to believe it. I had no other choice.
And I heard her key in the door, and my blood ran cold.
I skittered to the hall in my heels, all of a sudden acutely aware of how I was dressed, the tightness of my skirt, the silkiness of my blouse.
The door opened. Her suitcase came first and then Heather, dressed in her business suit, all professional and glamorous.
Her face, as she saw me - surprise, shock, delight, maybe amusement, then a warm smile.
"Hi honey. Did you miss me?"
I just smiled, emotions coursing through me, and tears pricked my eyes.
"Aren’t you going to help me with my bag?" She admonished.
I sprang towards it, grateful for something to stop me from welling up.
"You can bring it straight to the laundry." She said. "You can start on washing everything later. Right now, I want to freshen myself up and then I’ll inspect the house."
I picked up the case, and with a smile, Heather went upstairs.
I hurried to the laundry with the case. As usual, she’d packed the dirty clothes into a plastic bag. I removed that and poured the contents into the hamper. As I did so, I caught sight of the crumpled lingerie she’d worn withSteve. The reality of it hit me for six, but there was no time. I hurried upstairs with the case.
I brought it into the bedroom. Heather was seated on the bed, just pulling on a dark cashmere jumper, her suit and underthings discarded on the cover. She looked up at me.
"Right, Cary, a few rules. First, you should knock when you want to come into my bedroom. Go out and come back in again."
I stopped, stupid for a moment.
"Go on." She said, not harshly, but firmly. ‘Her room?’ I thought? Not ‘Our room’? I turned and went out again. Paused, caugth my breath, smoothed out my skirt, knocked.
"Come in." Called out Heather.
Was she serious? I wasn’t to see her undressed, not even risk seeing her without her clothes on?
I stepped in. She was smiling, but not like this was a joke.
"Right, you can unpack my case, while I talk." She said.
"First off, yes, your outfit is nice, but it simply won’t do for work around the house. I know, you’d probably like to wear a kinky french maid outfit, but that’s not practical either. You’ll hjave to buy new clothes for yourself.You need some plain, pleated skirts, and plain white blouses. And flats, not those things. You’re not going out for the evening, you’re working. Take them off and put on some flat shoes now. No jewelry or makeup either.
You may wear a hairband, and you must look neat and clean, but unless there’s some special occasion, you won’t be getting all glammed up. Otherwise, well, it won’t be special , when there is an occasion, will it?"
She smiled again. I was placing her hair things on the dresser. I nodded to show I understoond.
"Next, yes, this is my room from now on. You are going to move into the spare room. It just wouldn’t work any other way when I have a man over."
I glanced at her, met her eyes. She was staring right at me. Like steel. Her gaze was so firm.
Without breaking her gaze, she stood, walked over to me.
"Does that hurt?" She asked. "Hearing me talk about how I’ll be sleeping with other men?"
She was very close. My women’s clothes, which I loved so much, seemed to sap away any power I had to resist, protest. Inside I was being sliced up, but I couldn’t even express it.
"Yes." I squeeked. "It hurts." I was so nervous, trembly, upset, but Heather seemed so sure, so firm.
"Good." She said. "It should hurt. Otherwise, how do I know you love me?"
"I do love you." I managed to say, my voice a barely audible gasp.
"Yes." She said. "I know. And I love you. But you’ll never share my bed as a mana again."
Her words cut deep. So deep.
"But don’t worry. You’ll get to share. The spare room is next door. You’ll get to listen, to imagine. To remember what you gave up." Her eyes searched mine, her lips parted, she seemed almost hungry. My eyes began to sting, I tried to swallow it away, but a lump was rising, my eyes were filling.
"Oh yesss." said Heather slowly. "That’s it, cry."
She was so cruel. She was enjoying this. She wanted it.
"Heather please." I whispered.
"No, no no." She said. "This is good. Cry. Be weak. Accept it. This is how you’ll get through this. Accept it. Accept the hurt, the pain, the humiliation. Cry. Blubber like a little girl. Know in your heart that it’s true. Be weak and feminine and accepting, even of the pain. Enjoy it, even though it hurts. Be soft and pathetic and yielding. Not like the big strong studs that will be fucking your wife. Mmmmm. Let it go. Cry for me."
And my shoulders shook and I let it go and the tears fell down my cheeks as the sobs bubbled out.
Heather gazed at me in triumph.
"Mmmmm. So girly. Crying because his wife fucks other men. But it’s okay. Being girly is wonderful. It makes you feel so, so good. Surrendering, being weak. Giving in. You know you love it. And there’s so much more. Getting spanked. Being dominated, Mmmm. And the very, very best. Getting fucked."
She’d advanced on me so close. Her eyes - hungry, cruel, predatory.
"You want that, don’t you sissy?" She hissed. "You fantasise about it, don’t you?"
"No. No."
"Oh it’s sooo good. A big, thick cock pressing at your soft, puckered hole. Slippery and twitching. Hot."
Her hands were lifting the hem of my skirt.
"And it presses, nudging, presses against you. At your entrance. And you know. Oh, you know. How so very fucking good it would feel inside, but you can’t. No. Too big."
I felt her fingers creep upwards towards my panties.
"But he’s so strong, and he’s on top and your legs are far apart, and inside, oh, inside the aching."
Her face was nearly touching mine, her breath hot on my cheeks and her fingers traced the outline of my satin panties through my pantyhose.
"And then, oh god, he presses his hard, hot strong cock against your pussy hole and it moves in, pushing in against your tightness and you can’t hold it out and you stretch and his arms are around you and you want it and you spread your legs for him even wider and oh fuck, it slides in more and your pussy stretches out so wide and oh fuck he’s inside you and you hook your legs up and around him to pull him in to you and you want
him to fuck you and you beg and he presses harder and it hurts but it’s so fucking good and you cry out and it’s in so deep and uh."
Her eyes fluttered.
"He’s fucking you." She whispered.
I was electrified, her words had brought me somewhere else entirely.
"When you watched him fucking me - that’s what you thought about isn’t it?"
She caressed my behind through the pantyhose and panties and leaned in so close, her lips brushing my ear.
"What does it feel like? What is it like? You want to be fucked."
I could only gasp her name "Heather."
She smiled. "Me too." Her lips found my ear again. "I love being fucked by big strong men with big hard cocks. And you love watching me be fucked don’t you?"
"Yes." I whispered back, the shameful admission making my wet cheeks burn.
"What do you love most? Seeing his cock go in? The sounds I make? What?"
"T-The look... The look, on your face."
"Oh yeah? The hungry, horny look? The look of pleasure? Knowing that you can’t give me that? The way I don’t care about your feelings? Only about how good he’s making me feel? Wanting to please him. To be a good fuck."
"Yes."
"Interesting. Mmm Hmmm." She agreed. She took a step back, appraising me. "And you love dressing up in sissy clothes, don’t you?"
"Yes." I said, my voice a strangled squeal.
"Tell me, are you looking forward to being my live-in sissy cuckold husband?"
"Yes Heather."
"Goooood. Because let me tell you Cary, I am looking forward to being fucked good and hard, over and over and letting you know all about it. "
She paused and looked back at me, appraising me, seeking my reaction.
"Tell me Cary, what are you thinking now?" She asked.
I gasped. Caught my breath.
"H - Heather, I huh, I d-don’t know. I eh, I ..."
"Just tell me, what’s going through your head right now."
"Really? I, it’s stupid. I mean, I think I’m thinking that I want you to, eh, inspect the house, like you said."
She laughed.
"Fuck. Really? Really? Well, I suppose I did say I would. But yeah, okay. Tell me, what are you hoping, that I’ll find somehing wrong and punish you, or that I’ll be pleased with the good job you did? Hmm?"
"I want you to be pleasd with meeee." I squeeked, my voice still not able to return to normal.
"Go on then, show me what you’ve done." She replied, with a smile.
I brought her down to the kitchen and showed her the groceries I’d got, the meal planner I’d prepared and how I’d cleaned and wiped out all the cupboards, washed the floors and all the other chores I’d done while she was away. Through it all Heather seemed vauguely disinterested, even bored.
When I brought her to the laundry and began showing her how I’d washed everything in the hampers she took more of an interest.
"Show me what you were wearing while you were doing the housework." She said.
I showed her the blouses and skirts I’d worn, the pantyhose and panties I’d borrowed.
"Hmmm." She frowned. "You’re going to have to get a whole new wardrobe. For a start my stuff won’t fit you and I don’t want you wearing it, but also, this is all far too fancy. You’re picking out all my best work clothes, but this is suited to a career woman, someone with a proper job. You need plainer, more fuctional things. White blouses short black skirts, plain white cotton panties, that kind of thing. Stuff more suited to your role at home.
She saw the look on my face. She smiled and put on a mocking pout
"Oh dear, does the ittle sissy want to wear lots of lovely silky ladies panties? Does ooo?"
Tears stung my eyes again at her words.
"Don’t be silly Cary, sexy panties and clothes are for women who want to attract men. Men to fuck them, you understand?"
She spoke as if I was a particularly slow child.
"And you don’t want that, do you?"
I just looked shamefaced.
"Do you?" She insisted.
I shook my head.
"Are you sure?" She asked again. "Because if you’re not, I’m sure we can do something about that? You know?"
"Okay. Right, you seem to have done a reasonable job, but it’s really only just adequate. I want you to finish all the laundry and ironing. I’ll eat around seven. In the meantime, I have some calls to make and I need to do some work on the computer." She smiled. "Okay sweetie? I am pleased with you." She added.
She left me to my chores. I immersed myself in the cycle of sorting, washing, drying and folding. I put the dinner on, and kept an eye on it while I worked. I could hear Heather in the front room on the phone. Every now and again, I’d hear her laugh, and wonder who she was talking to, but I didn’t dare eavesdrop.
I set up the ironing board in the kitchen and set to it. There was a lot to get through.
I thought about Heather, and the astonishing change she had gone through. Before, I’d perhaps doubted if she really meant any of what she’d said. I’d thought maybe, she was just playing an act to punish me somehow, or that she was doing it ironically. Now. I realised she had to be sincere, that she really did want this, enjoy it even.
And did I? I considered it as best I could, but I couldn’t imagine anything being better than the feeling that wearing women’s clothes gave me. I longed for the feel of them even as I stood there in my pantyhose and patent shoes, ironing Heather’s panties. The thought of Heather sleeping with other men was so painful, and yet so delicious. Watching her with Steve had been mind-blowing. Seeing her spread her legs for him had
simultaneously broken my heart and flooded me with love. If I was honest, the only part that had been a problem was watching it on a poor quality webcam. So, despite everything, yes, if Heather was happy then I was more than happy.
I heard her high heels coming into the room.
"What are you so happy about?" She asked, walking over to the ironing board.
I smiled at her. "I’m just happy." I said.
"Really?" She asked. "Really? Happy doing the ironing? Happy being a cuckolded sissy wimp?" She asked, challenging me.
I looked her in the eye for the first time since she’d come home.
"Yes." I said quietly.
She smiled a broad, loving smile. "Oh Cary, I’m so glad. I really want you to love your new life as a cheated-on husband. I mean, I know you’ll still feel the pain, and I want you to, but I want you to want it too. Do you? Do you still?"
"Yes Heather."
"Really Cary? Spell it out for me, and I’ll let you masturbate in front of me."
"I, I want you to cheat on me."
She smiled. "More." She said.
"I, I want you to sleep with other men."
"More." She said, and she took my hand and lead me around the ironing board to the settee and sat in front of me. She waved imperiosuly and I knelt in front of her.
"Take it out." She said. "You can masturbate yourself while you tell me."
I got onto my knees in front of my wife and tugged my little cock from it’s panty and stared as she hitched up her skirt a little.
"I, I love you Heather." I stumbled. "I, I don’t deserve you. And, and I know I’m not good enough to make love to you. I, I just need to be near you and see you. I want you to be pleased with me because I am caring and considerate for you. And it’s such an honour just to be able to see you and see your lovely legs."
I glanced up at her face. She was smirking, watching me wank in front of her.
"And, and I want to listen when you, when you cheat on me, and I want to, I want to know, that, that you’re being satisfied and that you’re happy."
"More." She opeded her legs a little wider.
"And I want, I want to be allowed to come into your room, after, and, and..."
"More."
"And to be allowed, be allowed to put my head, between your legs and ...."
"More." A little wider.
"And to put my head between your legs and suck, suck the come from, from your pussy."
"Good. Good. And I’ll let my legs close on your head and you’ll suck and suck like the good little sissy cumslut you are Cary. Stare at my legs Cary. Stare at my crotch. This is what your life is now."
Really, just the sight of her upper thighs in her pantyhose wa mindblowing. How could I have ever have thought I could fuck her?
"I want you to know Cary. Know that your wife fucks other men. That I love being put on my back and fucked and used. That I get slam fucked every night and my pussy is filled with other men’s jism. I want you to feel it. I want you to be there. I want you to hold me in your arms while another man fucks me, and then see the look of disgust in his eyes as you beg me to open my legs so you can suck his spunk from my cunt."
"I want you to be my little boy, always frustrated and fascinated by Mommy and her hunky friends. In love with her, but never allowed to share with her.
Never allowed to be with her like a man, like all the men she takes to her bed. I want you to know. Know all the intimate details of my lovers. How they make me feel, the size of their cocks. What they’re like in bed. Are they tender? Are they rough? What do they like me to wear for them when they fuck me? Do they like me to go down on my knees in front of them to suck their cocks? Do they prefer fucking my cunt or my asshole? Do they
spank my ass? Do they make me pant with lust, or feel all gooey and girly inside? That’s what does it for me. I love telling you all this, showing you, seeing the pain in your eyes as you realise again and again that you’ve lost me, that your loving chaste wife is gone for ever, replaced only with pain and shame and humiliation.
So that’s it little Cary. Go on, Fiddle furiously with your useless little dicky while you stare at your wife’s crotch. Go on. Tell me Cary, do you love me? "
"Oh yes Heather."
"Do you love me in spite of how I’m treating you, or because of it?"
"I love youany way Heather. But yes, because of it."
"Good. Now stop wanking. Hands off right now. That’s it. I don’t want you coming. I want you desperate and horny all evening."
Heather rose from the couch and smoothed out her dress. My heart was pounding and I could hardly believe that she intended to leave me like this. She must have seen the look on my face, because she broke out laughing.
"Oh fuck, look at you!" She laughed. She flicked my cock with her patent high heel shoe.
"You look so dissapointed. Did you think you were going ot get to come? No! No way. I decide when and if you get to have any release. And I know you’ll be even more attentive and pethetically submissive when you’re horny and denied. I want you completley in your place while you do your housework . Go on, pull up your panties and tidy yourself up. That’s it. You’re not smirking to yourself now are you?"
I stood awkwardly and tucked my raging cock back in my silky panties and pulled up my pantyhose Heather was already walking away. She turned and barked at me.
"Come on. Get on with your work!"
I skittered over to the ironing board and resumed my duties. Inside my heart thumped and my poor aching balls and cock compained painfully at being so ill used. I felt a lump in my throat and tried to fight it down., but a tear trickled down my cheek. Heather walked past again, returning to the front room. She didn’t even notice.
I continued my chores for the rest of the evening. i finished ironing and folding, ans then I washed up he dinner dishes and made up some salad for Heather to bring to work the next day. I made it with the home-made lightly garlic flavoure croutons that she liked.
I went upstairs and moved most of my stuff out of what used to be our bedroom and made up the single bed in the spare room. All the time, I felt strange, strange but wonderful. Heather had crushed me, whipped me, and inside, I felt sadness, but also such peace and love an contentment. So, while I felt sadness, I wasn’t sad, or at least it was so bittersweet that the sweetness cancelled the bitter.
I brought the clean laundry upstairs. Cleaning out my clothes had freed up some drawers, so reorganised Heather’s things to give them a little more room as I putt them away. As I carefully folded Heather’s lingerie, I thought about how she was right, beautiful lingerie was for proper women to dress themselves in to please and attract men, men who would fuck them properly. I didn’t deserve fancy panties, I would make do with plain
white cotton, and plain skirts and blouses. I’d still be dressed as a woman, and that’s what really mattered after all.
I took some more of my things and moved them to the spare room, what was now my room. I was just tidying those away when I heard a voice behind me.
"What are you doing?"
Heather had come in to the room. She must have changed out of her heels, as I hadn’t heard her on the stairs.
"Just tidying away my things." I said. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"Yes." She smiled. "You can help me get ready for bed."
I followed her into the bedroom. She was so sure of herself, so confident and in charge. Her career had always been successful. I wondered if this change would make her even more dynamic and forceful at her office.
"Undress me." She told me, her tone warm, but not inviting. I unzipped her skirt and helped her out it and then the rest of her clothes, either folding the items or putting them aside for the laundry as necessary. When she was down to her underwear she went into the bathroom and I took the opportunity to neatly hang away her suit and take out the nightdress I’d picked out for her.
She returned and smiled at my choice. She removed her own bra and panties and handed them to me for the laundry. I lifted the nightdress and helped her into it.
"I’ll wear panties to bed tonight dear." She said.
I nodded and opened the drawer, selected a pair, held them up for her approval. She smiled and nodded. It was all so natural, as if we had been doing this all our lives.
I sank to my knees and Heather stepped into the panties. I gazed up at her as I tugged them up her legs and into place.
"Did you cry some more?" She asked. She must have noticed the redness around my eyes.
"Yes." I admitted, embarrassed.
She smiled kindly. "Over me. That’s nice. " She said, as if I had done something special for her.
"I’m sorry I missed that." She said. "I’d like to see you cry some more. Would you?"
I shook my head, confused and surprised. She wanted to see me cry?
"You can’t or you won’t?" She asked. She shook her head. "It doesn’t matter. You will. For me. Come here." She lifted me up as she sat on the end of the bed. She pulled me to her and kissed me.
"You want me, don’t you Cary?" She asked.
"Yes." I gasped, my head spinning from the kiss.
"But you know I don’t want you, don’t you?"
I cast my eyes down, but she lifted my chin so I had to look into her beautiful green-brown eyes.
"No. I don’t want you. I don’t want your icky little-boy pee-pee near me. Look. Look at my beautiful body. It was made for a real man to fuck. You know that don’t you?"
A single tear stung at the inside of my eyes, the hard lump returned to my throat.
"Yes." She whispered, pleased. "You’ll cry to yourself, all alone in your little bed tonight.
She pulled my head to her bosom, let my tears wet the soft, satin fabric that encased her breasts.
"Good boy." She cooed softly. I was in heaven between her breasts, and then I felt her hand move to the back of my head, force my head down, down towards her crotch.
"Sniff. Breathe." She whispered, pressing my face to herself. I nuzzled, mewling a little myself, lost in the delicious perfume from her nightgown and panties.
"That’s it." She whispered. "Sniff your wife’s pussy. It’s as close as you’ll get to it, my sissy cuckold husband, becuase, I. Don’t. Want. You."
I felt her other hand fasten around my wrist, pull me across her.
"I want big strong men to fuck me. Long, thick cocks to fuck my pussy. Tall handsome men to kiss me, make me feel weak and girlish, put their hands inside my panties, make me pant with lust."
She had draped me over her lap. The heel of her hand pressed against my temple, turning my head, making me look back over my shoulder at her beaming face.
"You don’t get to FUCK me." She hissed, her eyes on mine and her free hand smacked hard on my ass on the word, "FUCK."
I noticed her breasts bounced a little with the force of the blow. The pain of the spank hardly registered. It was her words that lashed me.
"Your wife fucks other MEN."
Uh.
"I suck their giant COCKS."
Eaah.
"You only get to WATCH."
Aaaah!
"Your wife thinks you’re a WIMP."
Aaaaaah.
"She doesn’t want your COCK."
AAAH!
"You’re only fit to sniff her CROTCH!"
AAAAAH"
"I spread my legs for MEN!"
AHHHH!
"They fuck my aching CUNT!"
AHHHHHH!
"They fuck me in the ASS!"
AHHHHHHH!
"And come all on my FACE!" Ah!
"And on my TITS" Ah!
"And in my CUNT!"
Ah! AH! AH!
Her hand was really smacking me now, hard and as fast as she could manage. I was blubberng, sobbing, crying. Tears poured from my eyes as she spanked and spanked and spanked.
At last she slowed and stopped, her ches heaving. She pushed me off her lap.
"Show me." She ordered.
I could hardly stand, but with trembling hands I tugged down my pantyhose and panties, lifted my skirt and half turned so she could see my ass,
She spread her legs and leaned back on the bed smiling.
"Mmmmm. Lovely." She said, appreciatively. "Now say thank-you."
"T-thank you Heather."
I sobbed, my voice cracking with the last of my sobs.
"Good boy." She replied, her smile wicked and cruel. "Now kiss my feet and fuck off to your own room and no wanking yourself Cary. Understand?"
I nodded and got down on my knees to kiss her proferred feet.
"Good night honey." She called kindly as I crept away, her gentle voice only serving to turn the knife one more delicious twist.
"Bill, you know the way you keep forgetting to take out the trash, and then we have a week of stinky garbage in the yard?
