No comments in over a month - what am I doing wrong?
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, here.

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I was still sobbing a little as I got ready for bed. Heather had put me in my place forcefully and mercilessly. I was a wimp. A cuckolded sissy wimp. How could I enjoy - no, luxuriate in - such a painful shaming experience?

I didn’t know how, only that I did. In fact, as I got ready for bed, the only real regret I had was that Heather wouldn’t see and be able to comment on my girly nightdress. I pulled it out of the drawer in what was now my room. It was the softest, swishiest babydoll nightdress I had been able to find. Pink satin with a lace bodice and darts around the edge, it had white lace bows all over the straps and hem. I had recenly got a pair of pink opaque pantyhose to wear with it and I pulled them on as I prepared for bed. The soft babydoll fell gently over my head and my chest as I draped it over me. I’d washed it with a perfumed conditioner and it smelled and felt divine.

The urge to masturbate was almost overpowering. Almost. I couldn’t even think of disobeying Heather now, not after having been put over her knee just so she could enjoy seeing me cry.

I wondered if I could ask her to put me in a chastity device. It would certainly make it easier not to masturbate.

Oh god! I missed Heather already. My little bed was so lonely and empty. How much worse would it be when I knew she was sharing what used to be our bed with another man? But oh god, the thought of sucking spunk from her crotch was unspeakably arousing. And in any case, it wasn’t like I had a choice in how my life turned out now anyway.

Heather had made everything very clear. She loved me, but she didn’t desire me sexually - she never had. I was to obey her in everything. She would help me by breaking my spirit, destroying my pride. This would help me to accept my subservient role. She would fuck any man she wanted, and my role was to serve her and please her in any way I could.

What was there to regret? Spelled out like that, my past life seemed like a sham, a waste of time.

How many times during our past life had I longed wear her panties, for her to hint that she was attracted to other men? I had spelled out my fantasies in stories and imagined what they would be like, played out in real life. Now, here it was, reality. I’d seen Heather dress in lingerie to please another man. Seen her on her back, her pussy rammed full of another man’s cock. Heard her moans and whimpers of satisfaction, lust. Heard her spell out how she’d never been satisfied by me. Seen her look of contempt at my sissy fetishes.

My cock was hard but not uncomfortable inside the pink opaques. The delicious feel of the pink satin babydoll enveloped me. I fell asleep, savouring it’s soft embrace.

I woke early and got ready quickly. I had heeded Heather’s comments the previous day and put aside plain cotton panties, flat shoes and a sensible white blouse and knee-length black skirt. Black pantyhose completed the outfit, and, while I’d have liked to wear something a little sexier, the pantyhose and skirt were enough.

I got breakfast ready, and while I was wondering whether to wake Heather she stalked into the kitchen in her robe.

She sat to eat without a word, and when I moved to pour her coffee she waved me away. Heather had never been a morning person, and I took the hint and left her alone. I went upstairs and busied myself tidying her room. I drew her a bath and laid out fresh towels. When I heard her returning upstairs I retreated into my own room until she was safely in the bath and then hurried back downstairs to clean away her breakfast things.

I was nearly finished when the phone rang. It was unlikely to be for me. I heard it ring again. Heather was in the bath. I skittered over to the phone and picked it up.

"Hello?"

It was a man, a voice I didn’t recognise.

"Oh, hi. I was looking for Heather. Is she there?"

My heart was pounding. This could be anybody, but my mind immediately imagined that this must be some lover of Heathers, impossible though that would be.

"I’m sorry, she can’t come to the phone now, could I take a message?" I said, trying to keep my voice even.

"Sure." Said the confident voice. "Tell her Brad called, and I got her message, and that I’ll see her tonight. Got that? Cary is it?"

"Yeah. Yes it is. I got it." I replied, ice suddenly flooding my veins.

"I thought so." Said Brad. "We’ve never met, but I knew Heather when she was in college."

There was a long pause. I had to fill it.

"Oh, right." I said.

"Yeah." Said Brad evenly, letting more silence fill the space around our words.

"Right, so I’ll pass on the message." I said, trying to sound calm and unconcerend.

"I know you will." He said, and immediately hung up the phone, leaving me suddenly listening to the dial tone.

I stood there for a moment, my brain stunned into stillness. I could hear Heather moving around upstairs. I wondered if I should help her, or leave her be and go back to the kitchen. Brad must be a former boyfriend, I thought. Maybe Heather had emailed him last night. Maybe she’d told him she was cuckolding me. Where were they going to meet I wondered.

"Cary! Get up here now!"

Heather was shouting from the top of the stairs. With a start I realised she’d called me several times, while I had stood dazed by the telphone.

I hurried upstairs, my skirt flapping on my thighs.

"I was waiting!" She said when I reached the bedroom. She was in a robe, still wet. I could tell she was trying not to let her anger show.

"I’m sorry." I stuttered. "I was, eh, miles away."

"Not good enough." She hissed. "Was the call for me?"

"Yes." I said.

"What you should do, is to see if wanted to take it myself, and then either bring me the phone or take a message. You don’t get to decide who I speak to, do you? Are you in charge here? Are you?"

"No." I squeeked.

"But you think you can decide who gets to speak to me, it seems."

"No. No. I’m sorry."

"No. And then. Instead of coming up here with the message, and to help me get dressed, you just stand there like a moron leaving me calling you!"

"I’m sorry!"

"I’ll make you sorry." She hissed. "Go and get my hairbrush."

Trembling, I went and fetched the flat silver-backed hairbrush from the dresser and nervously handed it to her.

"On the bed." She ordered, curtly. "And pull up your skirt."

I bent over the bed, acutely aware of my ass hanging over the edge. I reached behind and flipped up my skirt to receive my punishment.

"Count them." She ordered, and before I had time to think I heard the swish and then felt the pain explode across my left buttock.

It was so painful it drove all thought out of my head, and before I could unclench my teeth I heard the awful sound again and a second terrible swat hit my other cheek.

"Count!" ordered Heather as she whapped me again. It was so much worse than her hand.

"Nggh. Three!" I gasped.

"No. That’s one. You weren’t counting." She said and whacked me again.

"Nghaaah. One" I quickly gasped, having the presence of mind not to make the same mistake twice. How high would she go? The pain was terrible.

The smacking noise of the brush was ghastly, but the swish it made was worse, heralding the terrible pain to come.

By the time I gasped out "Six" I knew I would not be able to sit down that day.

"How many more do you need?" She asked, pausing for a moment.

My brain whirled. How many? None! But I knew that wouldn’t do.

"F-four?" I stammered, hardly able to believe I was asking more more.

Without pause she hit me again.

"Seven!" I shrieked, suddenly realising that this sounded like I was asking for even more.

"Eight, Nine, Ten." I counted.

"And one more for good measure." Gasped Heather and gave me a final, hardest smack with the hairbrush on my upper thigh that made me jump on the bed.

As I struggled to rise, Heather sat and let her robe fall open to reveal her nakedness beneath.

"Look away." She ordered. "Look only at my feet.

I stood, my head bowed.

"Now, the message." She said.

"It was Brad. He got your message. He said he’d see you later tonight."

"Right. Anything else?"

"No. That was it, except he said that knew you in college."

"Yeah. Do you know who Brad is?"

"No." I said, my voice gone very quiet. My ass felt like it was on fire, the pain spreading down my legs, into my thighs.

"He’s Brad DiTorrino. Heard of him?"

"I eh, maybe, is he a football player?"

"Well done. You’re not much into sports, are you Cary, but even you have heard of him.

Yes, he’s a star player. We dated in college. In a way, I gave him up for you. How’s that for a thought? You want to know what I told him in my message?"

The word wouldn’t come out. She would know I was lying. I couldn’t say it.

"Yes."

I could almost hear her smile. My eyes were fixed on her feet, flexing and stroking the bedroom carpet.

"Of course you do. I told him Cary, that I’d found out my husband has fantasies about me being with another man, and would he like to meet up with me?"

"Oh Jesus."

"Yes. Does that excite you Cary? Do you want to watch another man fuck your wife? Again?"

I was so twisted and desperate again. When I’d got her first email suggesting this I’d gone through the same agonies. Now, so immediate, with Heather asking me directly, it was so intense, so powerful.

Briefly, I tried to imagine what would happen if I said no. I couldn’t. Like a moth to a flame, I was drawn to what hurt me.

"Yes."

"Of course you do. You’re a cum-sucking faggot sissyy loser. But just in case you suddenly get ideas that you might want to protest or disobey me in any way, just remember, Brad is a fucking beast. He has received 6 penalties for violent behaviour on and off the pitch. Get out of line and he’ll smack you around, and I’ll let him. You bear that in mind, right cuckold?"

"Yes Heather."

"I’m planning for Brad to be my regular boyfriend. He’s a fucking stud, and that’s just what I need. He’ll think it’s cool to fuck a married woman, and he’ll think it’s hilarious that you won’t do anything about it, not that you can anyway. So do what we say when he’s here right?"

"Yes Heather."

"Pull down your tights and panties and go stand in the corner. I want to see your ass while I dress."

And so I stood in the corner, facing the wall, my skirt pulled up and my ass on show while Heather dressed in the smart, glamorous dress suit I’d laid out for her.

When she was done, she let me get back to my duties. Soon, she was ready to go to work.

"Honey, come here." She called from the hallway.

Quickly, but apprehensively I skittered to her.

"Now, I know you’re hurting, but I don’t want you getting morose and depressed here." She said kindly.

She opened her jacket, revealing her tight lambswool top. Underneath, the outline of her satin and lace bra was just visible against the flesh of her generous breasts.

She put her arms around me, pulled my face between the soft mounds.

"Mommy loves you baby." She said softly. "She only wants you to be happy. You understand?"

"Yes." I whsipered, more to her breast than to her.

"But Mommy needs cock." She whispered fiercely.

"I know." I said.

"If you’re a good boy, Mommy will let you watch Brad fuck her tonight"

"Thank you. I love you Heather."

"I know. I love you too Cary." She said and she she held me close to her for a long moment, and then she was gone, out the door to work, leaving only her sweet scent behind her.

I breathed out, realising how tense and worked-up Heather’s presence made me. I took stock. My wife was planning a date with another man. She was going out to work while I was left to look after the house and serve her and her boyfriend. But, she still loved me, and I was free to wear what I liked. Or, at least what Heather deemed was appropriate. Ruefully, I admitted to myself, that, of all the rules she had imposed, that was the one that chafed the most. Yes, my pantyhose and panties and skirt felt lovely, but really, I wanted to wear sexier clothes.

Still, my outfit made me very happy. And, I was forced to admit, the thought of Heather getting herself royally satisfied by her boyfriend was very exciting, and also made me happy in an odd kind of way. I thought again, was I happy? If I could have done, would I go back to the way our lives had been before? No. I wouldn’t have. Like Heather had said, I was a cuckold sissy, and I liked it. More, I loved it. I wouldn’t have my life any other way.

But she’d said more, of course. She’d said I was a sissy faggot. Was I? No. I pushed that thought away. I didn’t really want that. Not really.

I had a lot to do. The breakfast things needed to be cleared away, the beds made, there was washing to be done. I would get on with all of these, and then have some lunch. I smoothed out my skirt, and got to it, the feel of my pantyhose keeping me comforted and secure while I worked.

By lunchtime I had done all that I could. I made myself a little sandwich and ate it alone at the kitchen table. I had a problem. I needed to go out to get groceries and do some more errands. Of course, I could change into men’s clothes and go out, but I really didn’t want to do that. I cleared my plate away and went upstairs to Heather’s bedroom. I sat at her vanity and looked at myself. I knew I could do it. I had made myself up many times before, but eyebrows were the problem. I’d never had the guts to pluck or shave them before, it was instantly noticeable. I picked up the tweezers, and began to pluck.

An hour later, I appraised myself coolly. I wished I had a wig. Maybe I could get one? No. I just needed a hairband. Heather had one somewhere, she hadn’t worn it in years. I searched until I found it. Yes, it helped soften my face and take attention off my male hair length. My eyebrows were shaped, my face made-up my lids shaded. I’d swapped my blouse for a rollneck lambswool sweater and added clip-on earings. I could pass. What’s more I felt terrific. I was aware that none of this had been sanctioned by Heather, but I wasn’t thinking about that right now. In a way, I sort-of reasoned, she had conttol over my male life. As a woman, I had some independence. I was awae that that argument wouldn’t stand up to any scrutiny, but for the moment, it was good enough to give me the confidence to get downstairs, snatch up the car keys and walk out the front door.

I grinned to myself, delightedly as I turned into the street, not much caring if a neighbour saw me. Driving as a woman felt wonderful. I found myself laughing at nothing as I sat in traffic. I arrived at the supermarket in a daze. I smoothed my skirts as I stepped out the car. It felt great. I strolled into the shop, trying not to grin all over my face. I picked up my groceries and made my way to the checkout. The shop wasn’t busy but there were a few people at the tills. Was i getting second glances? Not that I could tell. The assistant was young, pretty, bored. She rang up my groceries without a thought and told me the amount with a yawn. To her, I was just another middle-adged housewife, picking up her shopping. I was so pleased with myself I took a detour to Pennys and picked up some pantyhose. I got some panties too, and then noticed the shoe section. I got a basket.

Only the bulk of my shopping made me stop. and head for the tills, I couldn’t carry any more without dropping things. I had blouses, some skirts and a couple of plain dresses that I hadn’t even tried on as well as the panties, hose and shoes.

"Wow. You’re buying a lot of clothes." said the cashier, rather pointlessly. I didn’t care.

"Yes. Yes I am." I agreed, and I grinned at her. She just smiled back, oblivious.

I raced home, trying to keep my emotions in check. I was experiencing a wonderful rush, quite unlike anything I’d ever felt before. Everything before had been playing. This was real. Just like I’d only played with the idea of sumission and cuckoldry before, but when Steve’s cock had sunk into my wife’s pussy, it was finally real. Now, I knew, before I’d just been playing dress up, now I was really dressing as a woman. And I wanted it, always.

Back home, I stowed my purchases in my room and checked my appearance. Yes, I hadn’t been just kidding myself, I could pass, but it could be so much better.

Now though, I needed to get on with things. I put away the groceries and began preparing the meal. Heather hadn’t said, but I guessed she wasn’t intending for me to eat with her and Brad.

I felt a twinge at that. I felt so happy with myself after my afternoon shopping that I wanted to share it with Heather. The thought that she was intending to spend her evening with this other man made me sad, jealous. Still, I knew she had needs. ‘Mommy needs cock.’ She’d said, even as she’d held me to her bosom that morning. And somehow, the thought of her getting cock, having a romantic evening with an exciting man, having the thrill of being fucked by an handsome, virile boyfriend made me happy and excited too. I hoped she would enjoy it, that it would go well. So, I prepared the meal as well as I could. I laid a romantic table for them, chilled some wine. Put some suitable CDs by the stereo and went upstairs to turn back the sheets on her bed.

After I was done, as an afterthought, I pulled some petals from the stand of flowers I’d laid on the hall table and scattered them on the sheets. Doing that felt so bittersweet, I almost choked up. She was my wife, but this was all I could do for her. The romance, the physical intimacy, the sex would be with another man. Not me. He would be the one to kiss her, to undress her. He was the one she would smile at. Brad would make her eyes sparkle, then close in passion. It was his cock that would press against the folds of her pussy, would part her lips, shove inside her, make her gasp in yielding, feminine pleasure. Then she would spread her legs around him, press her heels into his back, pull him into herself, gasp his name and hug him close to her. Brad would fuck my wife. I imagined them together, him - silent, powerful - her, perspiring, needy, whimpering, her perfect rear bouncing rhythmically off and into the mattress again and again, as he fucked her, her knuckles knocking on the headboard, as her arms waved helplessly above head, his fingers kneading her nipple, squeezing hard, painful, cruel, her squeel of delight, encouragement. Then, the bitten, muttered, pleading profanities as his orgasm built, her obesiant, submissive encouragement to him to finally release into her, as gratfeul thanks for the base, sexual pleasure he had given her. The offering of her face, her breasts, her belly as fitting sites for his seed. His triumpant climax, his use of my wife as his whore, his slut, her grateful happy acceptance of his cock, spasming, jetting his thick spunk onto her pretty, smiling, appreciative face, coating her forehead, her eylids, her chin, her throat, her breasts. Her eyes locked on his as she laps and coaxes the fluid onto her lips, and gently squeezes the last oozing drops onto her mouth.

Would she think of me then? Call me to her? To see? To witness? To prove again her unfaitfulness? To show me again how I was nothing to her? To demonstrate to her lover this pitiful pet who once was her husband. Would I amuse them? A post coital entertainment. The pathetic cuckold, grateful only for a chance to clean the spunk from his wife’s face.

"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?

Yeah, well, I know you hate it too, but you keep forgetting. Do you think there's anything we can do to improve your memory?

What? No, that's a stupid idea. I was thinking, you know, that some reinforcement is what you need.

Yeah, reinforcement. Where you remember something bad happened when you forget to do something. That helps you to remember, understand?

Oh, I don't know. Something painful. Like, maybe a spanking.

You're laughing, but it isn't funny. I'm serious.

I'm thinking that you might benefit from a spanking. Yes. You know the way when we have an argument, and I win, and then you're all sulky, and then I have to tell you not to be such a baby? Yeah, well after those times, you're much better behaved. Yes you are.

Well, I think that a spanking will be even better. It'll help with your attitude. Yeah. I do mean that, I mean you'll be happier. And better behaved.

You know the way you feel when I let you suck on my tits? Yes. Yes that's right, well, it can be like that. Yeah, because sucking on a nipple is like what a baby does. And going over my lap will be like that too.

Yeah, sure, you can suck on them after I spank you. That'd be nice. I think I'd like that too. And if you want you can call me 'Mommy'. Sure baby.

Yeah, come on over here and put yourself on Mommy's lap.

"You think he'll like it?

Who? Jim of course.

Yes, I'm going to see him tonight. Why do you think I'm getting all dressed up? I bought this skirt and top today for goodness sake.

Well what did you expect? You told me you fantasied about me dating other guys ... Oh, okay, sure, about fucking other guys ... Yeah, well I have to date first, stupid. I don't want him to think I'm some sort of slut.

Oh for fuck's sake, don't pout. He's just a boyfriend. I like him, he makes me feel good. I love it when he puts his hands on my ass when we dance. Yeah, the other night. Yes, he was there, with all my work friends, he does work with me you know. Yeah, everyone saw, of course they did. What did they think? Well, duh, they would have guessed I'm cheating on you with him. At least most of them would, Annie wouldn't have had to guess, she saw me sucking him off in the cloakroom.

Yeah, of course, I mean I'd led him on all night, I couldn't send him home with blue balls, could I, not if I wanted to see him again. Oh stop sulking, yeah, I never give you blow jobs. You know I don't like it.

Honestly, I don't know what you're complaining about. Having blue balls is all part of being a sissy wimp cuckold.

What? Aren't you? Wasn't that you telling me how your fantasies about watching me fuck another guy? Isn't this you sitting here watching your wife get dressed to go out with her boyfriend? Well isn't it? Aren't you getting a hard-on just talking about it? Yes you are.

Now, tell me, you think he'll like it?

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

I think you are. When I felt you stiffen up in the movie theatre, I thought 'Hello? What's this.'

You know when I mean. Of course you do. You forget that I know you so well. I know you like legs. Of course I do. We've been married five years and you adore mine, always have. I sense your reaction when you see some other woman's legs that you really like. I feel it. I know. And it's okay, nobody expects their partner to wear blinkers. If I see a guy I think is sexy, I'm sure I give off signals too.

But that was more than just that wasn't it. That scene? When she got so vampish? And then she threatened to take him over her knee? You reacted right then. You got so quiet. Sure you reached for some popcorn, but that was covering, right? And when she pulled him over her lap? Fuck, you were so quiet, so tense, so stiff, you might as well have screamed 'That fucking turns me on!' right there in the theater. Did you know I knew? Were you sure? Are you sure now? You keep glancing over.

Back then, I was so surprised, so intent on your reaction, I hardly noticed my own. But I kept thinking about it. And then I wondered, why? Does the idea turn me on too? It does. I'm thinking about putting you over my lap right now. Can you tell? Are you nervous? Let's find out.

This is a continuation of the hotel story which starts here.

Due to incompetence, or maybe drink, I have managed to lose the .pdf version, or else I'd repost it again.

Anyway, please let me know what you think. This is 'harder' than almost anything I have ever done.

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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.

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I don't want to spoil this for anyone, but I feel the need to point out that in my mind Heather really does love Cary. yes, she's enjoying this, but a large part of what she does and says is because she knows he enjoys it so much.

Since posting my link to Strict Wife Magazine, I've had a few letters from readers. Here's the first.

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Dear Strict Wife,

My husband has dropped several hints about wanting a wife-led-marriage. While I haven’t engaged with him about this - I’ve carefully avoided his hints - I am a little interested.

There seem to be several pros and cons, and I’d be interested in your feedback.

Pro. I like the idea of putting him in his place. He does annoy me occasionally, and it would be great to be able to just shut him up when he gets argumentative. On the other hand, does that really work for other women? I can imagine him just wanting to get a kinky thrill out of being dominated by his wife, and not actually doing what he’s told when there’s no sexual context.

Pro. I’ve always liked being dominant in bed. In fact, that’s the way it usually is between us, and I know that he likes that too. In fact, that’s the way he’d like it to be all the time. But, occasionally I like to just get fucked myself. I think if we were to adopt this kind of lifestyle 24/7 then I might miss that - not that it works very well right now in any case.

Pro. I’m not certain about this, but I think he would like to cross dress. Actually, I suspect he already does. I kind of like that idea, if it were an occasional thing, but I’d hate the idea of anyone else finding out about it. I wouldn’t like my parents or our neighbours to know. I worry that if I let him, that eventually he’d want to go out in public in a dress. That sounds horrible. Also, I think he might just look totally ridiculous or slightly creepy, and after seeing him dressed, I wouldn’t want him to ever do it again.

Pro. I do love him, and if this is something he wants, and I found I could live with it, then I’d do it. But I have a concern that if we try it, he might back out of it, and our relationship would be damaged by the experience. I have read a bit about this, and that seems pretty common. I don’t want him to try this, then back out of it, and have feelings of shame or guilt or not being able to ‘look me in the eye’ afterwards.

That may all sound pretty wimpy to you balls-of-steel women who do this on a 24/7 basis. Don’t get me wrong. I am a strong woman. I don’t doubt that I can do this, my concerns are more about whether I really want to or not.

Looking forward to, what I hope will be constructive feedback.

Jennifer (full name withheld at correspondants request)

Dear Jenny, This is a great letter, and you sound like a great wife. Not wimpy at all!

Your concerns are very typical, and the fact that you raise them makes the chances of you creating a successful wife-led-marriage all the better. The kind of problems that you envision do happen, but they happen because couples embark on changing their marriage with their eyes closed to the problems. Being aware of these ‘cons’ means you’re much less likely to experience them.

Lets take your concerns one at a time. Firstly, does putting him ‘in his place’ as you put it really work? Yes it does, if you do it correctly. And your concern is correct, if your wife-led-marriage is just a means for a kinky thrill for your husband then it won’t work, either for you or him. In a true wife-led marriage, female-dominant sex is a by-product of the relationship, not the reason for the relationship. He must obey you because you make him obey you, not as a trade-off for wife-dominant sex. This is easier than you think. He wants you to be dominant because he is submissive, and this is part of his nature, not just a sexual kink. If he has got to the stage of dropping hints then he is already quite a long way down that road. Where you should start is not with sex, but purely by being more dominant in your everyday relationship. You may not think it, but this is actually what your husband desires. There does not need to be a sexual element to your behaviour, nor should there be. However, this is not simply being bossy or bitchy. Being dominant is exactly that - be dominant. Tell him what to do, in the expectation that he will comply unquestioningly. Don’t whine or argue or reason - just tell. You don’t have to be imperious or vampish or bullying, your manner should be neutral, detached, normal. The effect you want is not in your manner, or even what you tell him to do, it is in the fact that you tell him at all, expecting obedience.

Your questioning whether this can ‘work’ is understandable. Why would he want this kind of relationship? But you already know the answer - he is weak, he is sumbissive, he is a follower, not a leader. This is what he wants because this is in his nature. Sexual desire may be a factor in this, as it is with most impulses in males, but it is not the only factor. However, if you link the two in his mind, then that is what he will respond to. Under no circumstances should you reward him with sex of any kind when he complies with your orders. His reward is your appoval of his obedience. Conversely, if he does not obey, his punishment is your anger with him.

Now, cross dressing. If you think he is wearing your lingerie surreptitiously, then you are almost certainly correct. If you refer to Dr. Connor’s article in this issue, you will find lots of helpful advice regarding a cross-dressing husband. Your concerns are natural, but easily overcome. If you do not wish him to dress publicly, simply forbid him to do so. By the time he gets that far, he won’t even be able to imagine disobeying. Also, he will almost certainly look riodiculous when dressed as a woman completely, but this is not necessary. You can indulge his fetish as a reward, or for your own amusement, or, even more importantly to reinforce his submission to you, simply by allowing him to wear lingerie under his clothes. This is just as effective, and only you and he need know.

Now, your concerns regarding your own sexual needs are very common, and you are correct, turning your husband into a sissy will certainly affect your image of him as a sexually dominant partner, even occasionally. Most women in such circumstances find that they can easily have their satisfied outside the home. How you go about doing that is your own affair, if you’ll excuse the pun. You will almost certainly find that your husband already fantasises about such liaisons. It is by far the most common feature of a sissy husbands desires. Some women of course, find such a course morally questionable. If that is your case, then yes, you do find yourself in a quandry. However, I would offer the following observations. If you already feel this way about your husband, then is he really satisfying your needs, even occassionally as things stand? Also, if as I assure you, your husband would be happy to acquiesce in such an arrangement, then where is the moral question?

As to your final question, I believe you already know the answer. What if he wishes to back out of such an change in your relationship? The question contains a tautology. If you choose to pursue this course, of taking the exclusively dominant role in your marriage. then it is your decision. If he agrees, then he simply cannot back out of it. He has surrendered control to you. If you do wish to do this, then do it. From that point on, your decisions will be the only one that counts.

Yours, XXXX XXXX

Here's another article from 'Strict Wife'. There's a link to a draft version of this fake magazine over on the right. It's not finished and it's a bit of a mess, but a few readers asked to see it, so here it is, in all it's work-in-progress glory. I may finish it, someday. Comments much appreciated. This is fairly obviously inspired by Saragirl's fake magazine covers, which I very much reccomend.

As always, a warning. I know next to nothing about wife led marriage. This is all complete fantasy. Do not, under any circumstances take what I'm writing as having any worth beyond entertainment. So enjoy (but don't take seriously).

The four steps to a sissy hubby.

Here at Strict Wife, we’re aware that many of our readers do not yet have a full-time wife-led marriage. Some of you have only dominated your husbands sexually, but have yet to bring your humiliation and panty-play fully into the day-to-day of your relationship. Others are the acknowledged or, in many cases, unacknowledged dominant partner in your marriage, but still have a conventional sexual lifestyle. There are as many different kinds of female-led relationships as there are people.

However, the most experinced dominant wives all know that the best way to live a full and satisfying life is to have your husband serve you in every way, in every aspect of your lives. When your husband feels he can resist or even defy you in some aspect of your marriage, this will inevitably lead to stress, tension and unhappiness. Not for you, but for him. A sissy husband needs to have his spirit completely broken by his loving partner, so that he can be free to embrace his inner sissy nature. Only then can he be truly happy, only then will he be

free.

So whether, your marriage is completely wife-led, or you are just starting out on the path to feminization of your husband, we’re sure you’ll find something in our guide that will be of use to you.

Step 1. Girly, girly clothes.

It is almost certain that your husband wants to wear your clothes. It is by far the most common male behaviour in the whole panoply of socio-sexual mores.

In fact, it is so common that it can almost be regarded as completley mainstream behaviour. Also, while it is often a sexual fetish, it is a mistake to think of this as an entirely sexual desire. Since the female gender is often regarded as the more submissive, his desire to wear female clothing is linked to his desire to express his sissy, submissive nature.

All submissive men want to wear panties, and most will have done so many, many times. For many, it’s the first and most important step to owning up to their sissy selves. For many though, this is not easy, especially not in front of their wives. Of all the ways that you can encourage and reinforce their femininity, this is the easiset and the most important. More than anything else you can do for him, letting him wear women’s clothes is the most wonderful, liberating, fulfilling experience you can give him. All sissy men talk about the time they first wore panties with their wife as the most exciting, the loveliest time ever. For him it will be almost a religous experience, and you, as the liberator of his sissy reality will be his godess.

Of all the things you do with him, this should be the most loving, and the most thrilling.

Do not make the mistake of app

roaching this lightly. For you, pulling on panties is an everday occourence. For him, it is a one-way leap into a world of sissy submission. The build-up and setting to the first time should be approached with a degree of planning and car

e.

How you do this is up to you, and dictated by circumstance - does he already secretly wear your panties? Is he already accepting of you as the dominant partner in your relati

onship? How masculine is he physically?

But, while your circumstances should dictate how you apprach this event, you are always looking for the same effect.

Rule 1. He should have to ask your permission.

Control is vital. Wearing women’s clothes is a privege, a gift, from you. He has no right to do so without yoiur express permission. This reinforces his dependance on you, and also allows you to control this vital aspect of his life. At first, this is easy, but it is vital. Never allow him to do so without asking or obtaining permission in advance. Always make clear that what he is doing is shamefull, humiliating, sissy. While you may allow it to some degree or other you are the one who decides when and what and even whether he is allowed to dress.

Rule 2. Your clothes are sacrosanct.

He may already have worn your panties or other lingerie, maybe even full outfits. This is wrong. They are your clothes, not his. He did a bad thing by doing that. This may be confusing, since you may allow him to wear your clothes in future. This must be a reward, a punishment, a special occasion. The point is, it’s not the same as him wearing his own women’s clothes - wither provided for him, or that he buys himself. They are si

sssy’s clothes - why? Because they are his, and he is a sissy. You are a real woman, and your clothes are real women’s clothes. The distinction is important, not the rules around wearing them. You are a real woman - he is not. He is a silly sissy boy playing dress up.

Rule 3. All women’s clothes are special, and deserving of respect.

This may seem a little odd, but it is very important. Men both long for and fear women’s clothes. So you may surprised to find that, once he owns his own, while he longs to wear them, he treats them badly. Often this is associated with post-orgasm regret. He may feel ashamed after orgasm, and when clothes have been a part of his sexual, especially masturbatory release, he will feel shame, himilation regret, often leading to him hiding or destroying the clothes that were used. This is not to be allowed. since it allows him to, albeit pathetically, reject and disown his sissy nature. Also, by disrespecting the clothing, he is disrespecting woman

hood, disrespecting you. This is a lesson that may need to be repeated, and backed up with

punishment and discipline.

Rule 4. When he dresses, he must dress properly.

Even if dressing means just wearing panties under his trousers, it should be something he does with reverence, with care. You should insist that when he wears women’s clothes that there is some aspect of it that he is uncomfotable with. This might mean shaving his body hair, ensuring his nails are in perfect condition, that he only ever wears fresh clothes with his underwear, something which he finds irksome or uncomfortable or just plain irritating.

The point is to insist it is done right, as a woman would, as you would, because women’s clothes belong to women. He is not a woman, and he is being allowed to do this on sufferance. Like wiping your feet when you go into someone else’s house, it is only proper to obey the rules, however seemingly arbitary and unfair.

I hope you see the point of these guidelines. Following these from the very start will turn his fetish for girly clothes into a perfect tool for you to control his behaviour. It provides you with a means of control, reward and punishment all rolled into one satin packag

e. He will love you for your gracious permission to dress as a girl, and the more you allow it, the more he will de

pend on you for this vital part of his life.

Step 2. Hands that do dishes.

Housework. Women’s work. Same thing, right? Well, obviously not. This is much harder than getting him to wear exciting panties, and it is one area that many promising wife-led relationships let flounder.

He must do all the menial work in the house. Why? Because it has to get done, and you cannot do it - you are in charge. How can you put your sissy hubby in his place if you’re wearing the marigolds?

How is it done? Well, it’s simple. He must want to do it. And he will want to do it because you tell him to.

Reward and punishment rule all human behaviour, and for sissies this is very simple. Reward - his wife’s approval and praise. Punishment - her stern anger.

Housework is work, not play, and no-one wants to do it of itself. The idiot, post-feminists say that housework can be rewarding, and in a way they are right. But the work itself is not rewarding. They feel rewarded by doing the work to the best of their ability for their man. In fact, they always say, ‘for their family’, but they just can’t admit that it’s really for their dominant partner.

For your husband the reasons will be the same. He must not just do the housework, he must do it well. Only doing it as well as he can can he earn your approval. And your approval is wonderful to him. Sissies love and fear women. Sissy husbands especially love and fear their wives, so you already have a head start.

Start with a simple task, ideally one that he already does, but that you sometimes do too. Critisise how well he does it. Get angry. Insist he does it better. When he does, no matter how churlishly, instantly reward him. Be loving, tender. Tell him how pleased you are with him for doing it better. Don’t offer sex, that’s going tooo far too quickly, but hint at it. Remember, what you’re rerwarding here is not doing the dishes properly or whatver the task is, but the behaviour of doing what you told him - obedience.

Training for obedience is vital. You’re not training him to be a housewife, but to be an obedient husband. He doesn’t need to know that of course. A simple program of reward and punishment is all that is required to break him if any resistance and to make him crave your approval.

It needs to be restated, that punishment is an angry wife. Not a petulant wife or a crying wife, but an angry one. Never lose our temper. Never lose control, just be angry, and for as long as it takes. And the reward, at first it should come quickly, then as soon as he learns to obey, more slowly. Each new task that your insist that he does should follow the same pattern.

Criticise, insist he do better, reward when he does so. Then slowly witdraw the reward until it is habitual for him to objey you. Each new task will become easier, and this cycle quicker.

Reward should never involve an actual treat - only your loving approval. A treat of any kind becaomes payment for doing the task, and he is not being paid - that is not in the nature of your relationship. He does it because you will it. For no other reason.

At first, there may be a temptation to get involved in arguments over fairness or division of labour. Don’t go there. Just insist he does what you tell him. Don’t argue or debate, just tell.

Remember, he will thank you for breaking his will in this way. Hew wants to obey you, but societal conditioning has told him not to. You must break this down and replace it with only obedience to yourself. As time goes by he can become more aware of this. When he has finally given in after some resistance, he will be weakened. Exploit this. be loving and tender.

“Isn’t it better when you just do what I say, hmm?”

“I love it when you obey me.”

“Don’t you want me to be proud of you?”

“You are such a good boy.”

It may help to think of him as a little boy, or a pet when you do this. You don’t use argument or debate with a child or a puppy. You simply tell them what you want them to do or not do and insist that they obey you.

You are not attempting to rebalance shared work between equals (even if that has been the relationship up to now). You are teaching a recalcitrant child how to behave properly. Their opinion is not important. Also, don’t make the mistake of treating your husband as an employee, or using language appropriate to a workplace situation. An employee has rights and is paid for the work. That is not the case with a sissy husband. A maid from the last century is a more appropriate model, but be careful. He’ll like the sexual kinky thrill from that kind of role, and that may stray dangerously into rewarding him with a sexual thrill for simply doing his work. Remember, the point here is not to punish him for the work, or to reward him for doing the work. The point is to punish if he does not obey and please you, and to reward him when he does what he is told. The difference is subtle, but very important.

3. Sexual Discipline.

It is impossible to disentangle sex from all or even any of the aspects of a wife-led-marriage. A simple trawl through any of the sissy blogs dedicated to the subject reveals that for the sissy, sexual pleasure is tightly associated with submission to their wives. For you this is different. Leading your husband into sissy submission is not about sex, but about liberation from a sexually and personally unsatisfying marriage. Sexual liberation is the goal for the dominant wife, not part of the process. However, his sexual urges and needs will be central to how he understands your changed relationship. For those of you who have not brought this aspect of wife-led marriage into your relationship, this may seem distasteful. Don’t worry. Sexual discipline is exactly that - discipline. It is not about satisfying his sexual appetites but about channeling them in ways that will compliment your relationship and bring harmony and satisfaction for both of you. For those who already allow some form of female domination into your sexual relationship then it is worthwhile to review the parameters that you should be imposing on him. In other words, his sexual discipline.

Sex is about what goes on inside the brain, not the bedroom. A sissy can have a totally fulfilling, even sublime sexual experience without you ever needing to fulfill his sexual desires. But how? For all sissies, their relationship with their dominant partner is the most important aspect of their sexual lives. How you treat him is central to how he sees himself. A sissy in a mainstream, male-led sexual relationship is never entirely happy. What might be regarded as a very good sexual relationship for a non-sissy will always be unsatisfying for the sissy. In fact, the more regular and fulfilling a ‘normal’ sexual relationship is, the more unhappy the sissy will be, since it does not address how he sees himself. It will feel false, and wrong. He will be playing a role - that of a dominant male - which he knows is at odds with what he really is.

And here is the crux of the matter. Moving to a wife-led sexual relationship will almost certainly entirely snuff out whatever normal sexual relationship he has with his wife. That is where difficulties lie. If normal, ‘vanilla’ sex is his only sexual outlet, he will be unwilling to let it go, even if it is only partly fulfilling his sexual needs.

Your mission is to replace that sexual relationship with one that better matches his needs, and allows you to be the dominant partner.

Now, a digression. Because the sissies’ nature is poorly understood in the mainstream, female led relationships have become confused and conflated with some of the more flamboyant aspects of sexual fetishism. This is wrong. It is not necessary for you to go out and buy a black basque or vinyl leggings in order to instil sexual discipline in your husband. In fact, this is the last thing you should do. Resorting to fetish stereotypes of the dominant female is not changing the sissy, it is changing you, and the point of sexual discipline is that is about the sissy, not his partner.

What you need to do is to change your relationship, how he sees himself, and how you see him. You are not changing - he is.

What he really needs to do is to accept his sissy nature. Accept that he is a sissy. That he can never satisfy his wife, that he is the submissive partner in all aspects of your relationship, and that you do not see him as an ‘alpha’ male.

Now, as always with Strict Wife, we proceed from the understanding that you wish to stay with your husband. That you love him and wish him to be happy with you. If that is not the case, then you should perhaps end your subscription and phone a divorce lawyer.

Also, the purpose of a wife-led relationship is not to whip your husband into shape and turn him into an alpha male. That would be a contradiction. If he were capable of that, he would do it himself. If you need to condition him into being an alpha male, then he is not one, and never will be. So, the first step towards sexual discipline is for him to accept his sissy nature. If he is already wearing panties and doing all the housework, this is much easier to achieve, but that is not essential. This step - sexual discipline - can be the first step to a wife-led-marriage, and it often is.

Your approach, as always, is two fold - reward and punishment. Firstly, he must accept that he prefers sex with his wife as the dominant partner. This is easy to achieve. You need simply iniate sex agressively, and bring about your own orgasm without allowing him to assume a dominant role sexually. There are myriad ways to achieve this. A simple woman-on-top position is obvious. Perhaps pin his arms to the bed to reinforce the position. Have him wear women’s clothing during sex is another. Have him perform orally only. The options are endless.

The point is to verbally and physically reinforce his sexual submission to you. State yourself that you prefer this. That it is ‘better this way’, and have him agree. Note that you are not asking him if he likes sex this weay, you are asking him to agree with you that your sexual satisfaction is more important than his. If he has found sexual relief during this encounter this is not a problem. The point is, that it is irrelevant. You prefer it, therefore it is better.

This, is the reward. The more you show him that you prefer sex with him with you as the dominant partner, the happier he will be. Deep inside, the sissy knows that you do not see him as a dominant sexual partner. he knows he does not satisfy you. That any sexual satisfaction you receive with him is less than fulfilling. He is eager to find a way that will allow him to please you that conforms to his sissy self-view. This is the very core of sexual discipline - serving his wife, seeing her needs as superior to his own.

It must be reinforced. Here, sexual abstinence is an invaluable tool in forcing the conditioning home. Orgasm denial is not an end in itself. Tantric sex and other eastern sexual practices often include orgasm denial, but the point here is not to store sexual energy for a greater release later. That is not your purpose. For you, orgasm denial is a means to an end, to reinforce that your sexual needs come before his. The longer denial goes on, the more helpless and desparate your husband will be for any sexual feeling.

Seeing your orgasm, being involved in it, is itself a sexual reward for him. He will be thrilled to be so rewarded, especially when you reiterate that you prefer this to ‘normal’ sex with him.

Now, punishment. His own sexual release must be a reminder of his own sissy nature. he must only ever have sexual relief as the submissive partner, and only when he accepts it fully. While this may be difficult to understand, it is key to his understanding of himself. Any sexual relief he may have had in the past while acting as a dominant male is ultimately unsatisfying. He know this is not what he is. He will almost certainly have had masturbatory fantasies where his is the sumbissive sexual partner, perhaps even imagining himself as a woman, or as a submissive gay man. The fantasies themselves are not important, and you do not need to recreate these, indeed you should not.

Only the submissive role is important, and his acceptance of it, acknowledged, with you, his loving wife. Again the means of achieving this are endless. Panty play is obvious, as is achieving sexual relief from his own or your hand only. Spanking, and anal play with dildos are also common, though a little more advanced. The point is to reinforce verbally and physically that he is a sissy, that he prefers sexual release in this way.

He must state this himself, and acquiece in it, both during, but especially after the sexual encounter.

Have him repeat after you.

“Who’se a good sissy?”

“Does sissy need to come so, so bad?”

“Does sissy love getting fucked?”

Naturally, remorse and shame will tend to make him want to deny his words after his release. You can easily overcome this by being soft and soothing, loving and tender.

“Aren’t you a happy sissy? You love stroking yourself for me, don’t you?”

Insist on an answer from him. Do not let him back off after release. You don’t have to become angry or force him, but make sure that he agrees, however reluctantly or quietly. Reinforcement and conditioning are your aims, and from small admissions comes a full acceptance. Remember, it is his nature that he needs to acknowledge, not that he simply enjoyed the release.

This is important. Don’t let him externalise his feelings. This is not simply something he enjoys. He enjoys it because of what he is. Certainly, this is not something you are doing to him or for him. You may be demonstrating something about him, but that is as far as your involvement goes - ‘You are a sissy. Why? Well, because you enjoy sex as a sissy. Look. See? You are a sissy, aren’t you?’ It’s simple.

Now, the point of sexual discipline, once your husband has accepted that he is a sexually submissive sissy, is to exert control over his sexual life. Discipline is important, necessary. The point is that, while accepting his nature, he needs to recognise that his needs are subservient to yours and must be kept in check. He may be allowed relief, but only on your terms and with your permission. Your needs, as the dominant partner are paramount. His are, at best, a distraction, at worst, a slightly distasteful irrelevance. A loving wife may allow him relief in whatever sissy way she finds least disagreeable, but this is a gift from you to him, not a right, not a normal part of a husband-wife relationship.

Discipline may be exercised in various ways, and while you are ultimately in control, it will be up to the sissy himself to exercise that discipline. He may need to ask permission to masturbate or to have you give him relief with your hand. He may need to go for specific periods of time before being allowed relief, or perform certain special tasks. (Note that these should not be his normal, housewifely duties, but rather special tasks, or performing particularly well several times at his normal duties). If you choose to allow him to orgasm while performing orally on you, or by you fucking him with a strapon, then he should need to please you, entice you into such play by being particularly attentive, feminine, considerate or whatever pleases you. At all times, it should be clear to him that this is a special gift that he is being allowed to enjoy, that this is something that you are tolerating rather than encouraging and that is necessary because he is a simpering sissy boy, not a real man. It is not, and never will be normal sexual relations between a man and his wife. That door is closed forever, which brings us the the last step.

4. A new acceptance of his sexual role within the marriage.

Note. It is assumed in this article that you are heterosexual, that is simply so we don’t end up stumbling, over prepositions like the worst , politically correct, over-apologetic liberals. Of course, if you are attracted to women rather than men, or both, feel free to mentally substitute ‘her’ for ‘him’ or ‘she’ for ‘he’ as necessary.

Now, for many wives with sissy husbands, having completed the three steps above, they find themselves perfectly happy with their lives and their relationships. They find themselves free to concentrate on their careers, their children, their hobbies or other pursuits - whatever they find fulfills them. However, for many, having a sissy husband who cannot fulfill their sexual needs leaves something of a hole in their lives, a sexual need which must be assuaged.

For some dominant wives, of course, cuckolding their husband was the very first step they took, often unwittingly, towards sexually dominating their husband. A fling, a series of affairs, some casual one-night-stands to satisfy the lack of what was so sadly absent at home.

Without the open acknowedgement of this perfectly natural state of affairs that acceptance of a husband’s sissy nature gives, this can lead to severe problems within a marriage. A closeted sissy will be terribly hurt by his wife’s unfaithfulness, despite it being caused ultimately by his failings as a man. However, in a marriage in which the sissy is ‘out’ and his nature is acknowledged and accepted, the need for his wife to find sexual satisfaction elsewhere is both obvious and inevitable. Nevertheless, it is an area that must be approached with intelligence and understanding.

And it must be approached. If you have been cuckolding your husband, suspect he is a sissy, but have taken things no further, then you should first address steps 1-3 above before introducing this aspect of your desired lifestyle. Having done so, you can then begin to regularise your own sexual life and eliminate any jealousy or resentment your husband may be feeling - or, at least minimise it, it’s never going to entirely go away.

Note the title of this section. This is not about cuckolding as a means of humiliating your husband - although that will happen. This is about your freedom to sleep with whoever you like outside your marriage. Many sissy husbands will get a vicarious thrill from knowing that their wife is sexually active outside their relationship. However, your sexual life has nothing to do with them, unless you wish them to participate as a fluffer or the like - either as a reward or punishment - it’s up to you. The point is that this is not something that you are doing to them or for them, it is something you want to do. The sissy’s wants or needs are completely irrelevant.

For some sissies being cuckolded will involve heartbreak, at least for a while. However, as we’ve established, if it is not your intention to leave your marriage, soon they will see that this need not be the end of their relationship with their wife, but rather the beginning of a new, wonderful stage in their married lives. This is what is meant by a new understanding of his sexual role. That is, that he has none, except as a submissive means of giving sexual satisfaction to his wife. He may be involved in your orgasm, orally or by some other means but this is essentially a masturbatory act. You do not see him as a ‘proper’ sexual partner in the same way as you do the men in your life whom you do choose as a sexual partner. While he may have some form of sexual life, this is as a sissy, indulged by his wife and allowed some relief or thrilling sexual humiliation

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