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Subject: Repost TG: Anniv-her-sary Present by Suzi Johnson (1/1)
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Hi.
The slow changes in a marriage.
As usual I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If
you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then
welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null.
If you are an author and wish to remain anonymouns or just try to
avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your
stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands for
story postings and for nothing else.
Enjoy the story.
Ciao
Nostrumo
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Anniv-her-sary Present
by Suzi Johnson
I lay helpless on the bed. My hands are tied to the bedposts with my wife's
nylon stockings, and a pair of her panties are stuffed in my mouth. But
this is not one of the gentle B& D games that married people sometimes play
- no, it goes much further than that. You see, I am wearing an
old-fashioned black Victorian corset, tightly laced up the back, which molds
my body into an hourglass shaped feminine figure with a 22 inch waist. My
hormone-enhanced breasts swell upward, filling and overflowing the cups of
the corset. My testicles have been pushed back up inside me, and my cock is
flattened and pulled back by a laced up leather pouch that attaches to two
eyelets at the back of the corset, the laces bisecting my ass. Other than
the hair on my head, thin eyebrows and a heart-shaped patch of pubic hair,
electrolysis has been used to remove every other hair on my body. My face
is fully madeup with cosmetics, and long false eyelashes are glued firmly in
place on my eyelids. I glance upward at my hands and see the ruby red nail
polish that coats my inch long fingernails. My sleek legs are covered by
seamed black sheer nylons, and on my feet are six inch high heels of black
patent leather, secured by tiny padlocks that fasten to straps that encircle
my ankles. The soles of my shoes and the spike heels are flat against the
bed, thrusting my stockinged calves straight upward at a painful and
unnatural angle. Under my hips is a large cushion which lifts and exposes
my ass. Filling my psuedo-pussy is a triple-rippled butt plug that sends a
continual burning sensation through me as it stretches me beyond belief. My
long brunette hair has been artfully arranged around my head and over my
breasts by my wife. When she was satisfied with how her subservient husband
looked, she had walked out of the room, promising only to return eventually.
I am in pain from the tight-lacing, the butt plug that fills me, and from
the tortured position of my body, but not at all unhappy. As I lay here, my
mind recounts the events that led up to this day.
It had begun innocently enough one winter day exactly five years before: I
had just finished my morning shower as my wife and I were getting ready for
work. I walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my waist, and
was searching for a pair of undershorts. "Hey, hon," I said, "there's no
underwear in here - did you do the wash?" "Dammit, I got so involved with
the work I brought home last night, I forgot to put the last load into the
dryer," Joanne apologized, "I'm sorry, that must have been your underwear."
"That's OK, I'll just go without them today," I said. But when I pulled on
my suit pants, I knew that wasn't going to work. The heavy wool winter suit
immediately began to chafe my cock, and I knew that it would be rubbed raw
before the day was over. "This won't work," I told her, explaining the
problem. "I have to be on time today because of an important client
meeting, so I can't wait for them to dry. I don't even have a dirty pair I
can put on." "The only thing I can think of," Joanne said, "is for you to
wear a pair of my panties - at least you won't be in pain all day." "C'mon,"
I said, "you've got to be kidding - I can't wear a pair of panties to work."
"Well, if you can come up with another solution, feel free, but no one will
ever know." There wasn't much time to debate the issue if we were going to
make our train, so I finally agreed. She took out a pair of pink nylon tap
panties and tossed them to me. "Hurry up, we're going to be late," she
said. I quickly pulled the panties on, and saw that they were the feminine
equivalent of boxer shorts, unlike the bikinis or briefs that she usually
wore. They were tight at the waist, of course, but the rest of the panty
was designed to be loose around the body. On me, the silky material fit
snugly around the hips, but there was some room at the legs. I finished
getting dressed, and we hurried to the station.
We almost missed the train, and were the last two to board. There was only
one seat left and Joanne sat down, and I stood next to her, holding onto her
seat back. We didn't try to talk above the noise of the train, so I just
stood there, swaying from the motion. And I noticed something strange - the
smooth feel of the panties sliding against my cock as my body moved back and
forth was sending weird sensations through me, the sweet friction causing me
to get an erection. Had I been wearing a regular pair of panties, which
would have been form-fitting, the slight movement of my body wouldn't have
done anything, I don't think. But the tap panties' loose fit was causing
this strange reaction. When the train pulled in, and we were on the
platform, Joanne teased me, as we prepared to head off in different
directions, "Well, have a good day - I know I will, since for sure you won't
be able to cheat on me today." "Hey, that's not fair," I responded, "you
know I'm absolutely faithful to you!" "Yes, I know that, but I have to
admit, I will probably think about you wearing my panties all day long. It
is pretty funny, you'll have to admit." "You're a riot, Alice, a regular
riot," I answered in my best Jackie Gleason imitation. "I'll see you
later," I said, kissing her goodbye.
I went down to the subway, and when the train pulled in, I stood up, even
though there were a few seats available. That was unusual, but the strange
sensations from the panties was really affecting me, and I wanted to
continue the feeling. By the time I got into the office, what had just been
a regular hardon had changed into a throbbing, pulsating being with a mind
of its own! I went into the bathroom, closed the stall door, and pulled
down my suit pants. My cock was held in place for almost its whole length
by the panties, with just the tip being rubbed by the smooth, loose nylon.
I stood there, rubbing the bottom of the panties against my cock until I was
on the verge of coming, then I pulled up the leg a little and caught the
spurting mass of jism in my hand. Unbelievable, I thought, that this could
have happened. I had to hurry into the meeting, and gave it no further
thought. But as I sat there, the slightest movement caused the same
reaction, and when the meeting was over, I hurried into the bathroom again.
The same thing happened once more during the afternoon, and as I rode the
late train home, I found myself standing, although there were plenty of
seats. I couldn't get enough of this wonderful feeling!
The walk home was sweet agony as my stride caused a continual rubbing of
panty on cock, and when I opened the door, Joanne was standing there,
laughing, holding a pair of my jockey shorts up in the air. "I was giggling
to myself all day, thinking about my hubby in his sweet little pink panties.
But you were so busy, you probably never even though about it." Before I
could say a word, she swooped down, opened my coat, and pulled down my
pants, saying as she did it, "Here, I'll change you back right .." She
stopped talking, as she stared in amazement at my very obvious hardon inside
my, her, panties. "I ... I ...they just keep rubbing against me," I
managed to stammer, "and ..." Joanne knelt down in front of me, and raising
the leg of the panty just a bit, licked on the tip of my cock. She looked
up mischievously, and said in a teasing voice,"does my hubby wike his pwetty
pink panties, do they feel good on his wittle weenie?" Without waiting for
an answer her mouth encircled me and she proceeded to suck me to a gasping
climax. When she stood up, she took my hand and led me upstairs. Kissing
me deeply, she took off all my clothes, except for the panties, and
practically through me down on the bed. Just lifting the panty leg enough
to free my cock, she straddled me, not even stopping to take off her
clothes, except for her panties, and impaled herself on me. My cock, having
had all the activity of the day was slow to respond, but as she began to
pump up and down on me, the panties began to rub on the cheeks of my ass.
When I tried to put my hands on her breasts, she grabbed both my wrists and
raised them over my head, pinning me down with the weight of her body. I
had never seen her turned on like this - it almost seemed as if she were a
totally different person.
Her body shuddered in climax, but she continued her motions, and in quick
succession, she came twice more. She lay on top of me, trying to catch her
breath, and I rested there in my panties. When we finally spoke, she had no
explanation of why seeing me hard in panties had that effect on her, no more
than I could explain why, aside from the sweet friction, which to be honest,
had become secondary to just the erotic thoughts the idea gave me, wearing
them affected me either. Having reached no conclusion, just more questions,
we got up for dinner. I felt odd still wearing the panties, though, so
under my robe I put on a pair of my own underwear.
After dinner we watched some television, but I don't think Joanne paid any
more attention to it than I did. The memory of how the panties had felt on
me kept intruding, as much as I tried to ignore them, dismissing them as
silly. I was a man, after all, and men didn't wear panties, I rationalized,
but my subconscious kept prodding: but didn't they feel wonderful? When we
went up to bed, Joanne slipped into a nightgown, and another strange thought
popped into my head: would that feel like panties covering my entire body.
We said goodnight, but I lay awake for a long time, confused and troubled,
before I finally fell into an unsettled sleep.
Routine took over the next morning, but when I came back to the bedroom
after my shower, Joanne was giggling, holding a pair of my shorts in one
hand, with her other hand behind her back. "Here you go, dear, unless," she
said, bringing her other hand into view, "you'd rather wear these?" In other
her hand was a pair of tap panties, but this time black ones. "Don't be a
comedian," I said, taking the jockey shorts from her, but I found myself
giving more than a quick glance at the silky panties.
I was really off my feed at work all day, and a couple of people commented
that I seemed to be someplace else. What the problem was, of course, was
the thoughts that persisted in my head of yesterday's panties and the black
one from this morning. I didn't say anything to Joanne that night about the
day, but our conversation did seem a little strained. I felt a little horny
that night when we went to bed, and I tried to get Joanne interested, but,
very unusually, she said, "I'm kind of ... tired tonight, dear, maybe
tomorrow.
The next day and evening passed, and when we again were in bed, and I tried
to get something going, Joanne suddenly sat up and said, "We have to talk."
She confessed that she had been thinking about my panty-wearing day, strange
thoughts, and remembering how excited she had gotten when she saw me in my
panties. I also confessed, interrupting her, about how the memory of those
panty-clad hours kept recurring to me. "W ... would you mind wearing
panties again to make love to me?" she asked hesitantly. The turn-down of
last night, plus the constant intusion of the memories had made me horny,
very horny. "Hell, Joanne, I don't care," I answered, "I just want to make
love to you!" She grinned at me, and jumped out of bed, returning in a
second with the black tap pants. "Black panties tonight, because you've
been bad," she said, and I pulled them up noticing that my cock responded
immediately with a huge hardon. She felt it and stroked me all over my
pantied ass and groin. She again jumped into the female superior position,
and pinned me to the bed. Again, she was like a wild woman, bringing me to
a giant climax, while I felt her spasm twice, then a third and fourth time.
She rolled off me, and as we lay there next to each other, she said, "that
was wonderful, better than ever!" And I could only agree with her, cuddling
close to her, until we both fell into a deep untroubled sleep.
I awoke the next morning when the alarm rang with another erection, and when
she looked down at me, she immediately saw it. "Did you enjoy sleeping in
the panties, dear? It sure looks like you did!" She swooped down to start
licking on me, then shifted around into a "69" position. I slid my head
under her nightgown, and pulling her panties to one side, began to suck and
lick her sweet pussy. She rolled herself over, so that she was on top of
me, pushing herself against my face, while she teased my panty covered cock.
Her thighs tightened around my head as she orgasmed, then she sucked the
entire length of my cock down into her throat, as she rubbed her face from
side to side against the black nylon, until she had swallowed every drop of
my essence.
Our little lovemaking session had thrown off our schedule, or at least
that's how I rationalized skipping my shower that morning. And, of course,
since I hadn't showered, there really wasn't any need to change what I was
wearing, was there? I didn't say anything but I could feel Joanne's eyes on
me as I put my suit on over the black panties. We sat next to each other on
the train, each of us thinking our private thoughts. I was wondering what
her reaction was going to be to my wearing panties again, and if she was
going to say anything. She didn't until we were pulling in, when she leaned
over, gave me a kiss, whispered, "Have a wonderful day, dear," and putting
her hand on my crotch, stroked, then squeezed my cock. I knew that she had
accepted my panty-wearing when she did that, and I was glad that she did,
because I knew that I would continue doing it. I managed to restrain myself
that day, anticipating another evening of lovemaking. When I walked through
the door, Joanne was standing there smiling and holding a gift-wrapped
package. I kissed her `hello' and she returned it passionately, then handed
me the package. "I was thinking about you today, and I realized that with
both of us wearing my panties, I'd run short, so I went out and got you a
present," she said. I ripped off the paper and opened the box. Inside were
a dozen pair of panties. "Besides," she continued, "you really need a
larger size." I stood there, and began to take out each pair of my new
panties and look at them. She had gotten me panties in what seemed like
every color of the rainbow! And in all different styles, as well. "This is
the best present you ever bought me," I gushed, revealing without any doubt
my innermost feelings. "Enjoy them, dear," she said, reaching down and
stroking my erect cock, "because I know I will."
There was no question after that - I wore panties every day, and I found
that I loved every color and style! Bikinis, briefs, taps, nylon, lace,
satin, black, red, white, every single pair of panties felt just fantastic.
And our lovemaking kept up both its frequency and intensity as a result, as
Joanne continued to be as aroused as ever by the thought and sight of her
husband in panties.
It was a bitter cold early February day about a month later - the weather
report on the radio had predicted possible sub-zero temperatures all day. I
had just pulled on a pair of extra-lacy red bikini panties when I said,
"Damn, I hate the cold, I'll be freezing my butt off all day. I have
appointments all over the city, and I'll be outside for hours." Joanne
responded, without even thinking, "Yes, its going to be terrible out, too
bad you don't wear pantyhose like I do, because they really keep you warm."
All of a sudden, we looked at each other, and realized what she had just
said. Without another word, she pulled a second pair of pantyhose out of
her drawer and handed them to me. I silently took them, and watching how
she put them on, I mimicked her actions, rolling up each leg, inserting my
foot, then unrolling them up over my legs. We stood up and raised the panty
portion over our panties, and I thought I was going to faint as the feeling
I had only experienced from the panties, spread all over the lower half of
my body. The smooth sensation of nylon on flesh caressed me all over, and I
knew that I would be warm all day, and from more than just the covering of
the pantyhose! My suit pants were a little loose when I put them on, and I
knew that the deliciously tight pantyhose had shaped and molded my lower
body. The gentle friction I had only felt against my asss and cock was now
expanded enormously as pant legs rubbed against the gossamer that covered my
entire leg. It was wonderful. That night, Joanne had another present for
me, and when I opened it up, I saw that she had bought me my own supply of
pantyhose.
I wore both panties and hose every day to work, and it got to be so very
natural. Then, one bitter cold night at the end of the month, I
off-handedly remarked when we had gotten into bed, "God, these sheets are
freezing!" Joanne looked at me and smiling, she got out of bed, walked over
to her dresser and got out a pink nightgown for me. I eagerly put it on,
and for the first time the sensations I had felt on my lower body extended
all over me. She ran her hands over my entire body and we made love in a
twisting, swirling tangle of flesh and feminine fabrics.
Joanne bought me my own nightgowns the next day. The escalation of my
strange habit continued, and before long, I was wearing camisoles, padded
bras, and other wonderful things around the house every evening and all day
on the weekends. I even began to wear camisoles out under my clothes, in
addition to my panties and pantyhose on Saturdays and Sundays. I wore a
jacket for as long as I could that spring, and only when it truly turned to
summer, did I have to cut back to wearing only those dainties that would be
covered by my pants. Joanne made up for it though, by buying me a couple of
sexy shorts and tops that I could wear around the house. Before we knew it,
a year had passed, a glorious year of satin and lace. One thing that had
definitely changed during that time was our lovemaking. We only made love,
of course, with me dressed in feminine clothing, and Joanne was clearly the
aggressive partner, and called all the shots. As I felt more of my gentler
female side come out when I was dressed, she seemed to compensate by
assuming more and more of the dominant role. But I didn't mind a bit, and
we were as happy as any two people could be.
It was January 10th, exactly one year to the day from when I had worn my
first pair of panties, though I really hadn't thought about it. When I
walked in the door, Joanne was standing there holding a large box. "Do you
know what today is, sweetheart?" she asked. I confessed that I didn't, and
as she handed me the package, she said, "Its our anniv-her-sary. You've
been wearing panties for a whole year, and I bought you a special outfit to
celebrate. Why don't you go upstairs and change, and I'll be up in a few
minutes with some champagne." I gave her a big thank-you kiss, and hurried
upstairs to open my present. When I did, I sat back, stunned. Inside the
box were the most wonderful thing I had even seen, a white laceup
torsolette, and a bunch of boxes that promised even more. I stripped off my
clothes, and began to get dressed: I slipped the satin and spandex
torsolette over my arms, and began lacing it up from the bottom. It was
very tight, pulling in my waist and shaping me into an hourglass silhouette.
I opened the next package and put on the white seamed stockings I found
inside, attaching the stocking tops to the six hanging garters of the
torsolette. The next package contained a frilly pair of white satin
sissy-panties with row after row of white lace. They felt so wonderful as I
raised them up my legs, caressing the sheer nylon that covered my legs.
Inside the next box were a pair of fleah-colored breast forms which I gently
arranged inside the cups of the torsolette. I took one brief glance at
myself in the mirror, loving the feminine figure that looked back out at me,
then tore myself away to open the rest of the packages. The next box
contained a pair of high-heeled white patent leather pumps, at least 3
inches high, and I immediately slipped my stockinged feet into them. I
teetered a little at the unaccustomed height, as I saw the tremendous
difference they made to the shape of my legs.
There were only two boxes remaining, and I opened one to find a white silk
sheath gown. When I held it up, it reminded me of a wedding gown, with long
sleeves, cuffed with a band of lace, and I slipped it over my head, sliding
my arms into the sleeves, and allowing its silken length to slide down over
my body. It fit perfectly over my newly shaped body, tight around my
breasts and down to the waist, then flaring slightly to fit my hips in a
whirl of silken material. It ended at floor length in back, rising slightly
in front to expose my ankles and high heels. The form-fitting dress
restrained the length of my stride as I went to get the last box. Inside
was a shoulder length brunette wig, and as I was putting it on, Joanne came
into the room with the champagne and two glasses. She poured, and handing
me a glass, adjusted the wig on my head. She made a toast, "To the virgin
bride," and we sipped the wine. I had never felt so wonderful, and she said
that she adored how I looked, kissing me strongly on the lips.
She took me by the hand and led me to her dressing table. I sat there, and,
for the first time, she applied cosmetics to my face, foundation, powder,
false eyelashes, eye shadow, lipstick and blush. She then put false nails,
already polished deep red, on my fingertips. She handed me my champagne,
and I was amazed at how feminine my hand looked, with the long nails
encircling the glass. We sipped the champagne, clicking the glasses against
each other, and then she stepped away from in front of the mirror, allowing
me to see myself. I stared at the beautiful woman that I had been
transformed into. "Does my lovely virgin like what she sees?" she asked,
but I was incapable of speech, and could only nod, `yes'. "I've prepared us
a nice dinner, dear," Joanne said, "let's go downstairs." I followed her
lead, adjusting to the strange feelings of the heels and the sheath gown, as
well as the restraining grip of the underthings. During the meal, Joanne
kept complimenting me on how beautiful I looked, and continued to keep our
glasses filled with champagne. When we had finished the first bottle,
another magically appeared, as though from thin air, and I felt myself
getting more than a little high. "I'd better slow down a bit," I said, "or
I'll be totally wasted." "Don't worry, sweetheart," she answered, "I'll take
care of you." There was music playing in the background, and she asked me to
dance with her. I automatically raised my left hand, but she whispered, "I
think I'll lead," and she nestled me close against her. I swayed along,
following her lead, high from the wine, and trying to maneuver in the
highheeled shoes. We danced through several songs, until she softly asked,
"Shall we go upstairs now?" I squeezed her a little tighter, and kissed her
in answer.
She became quite animated when we got into the bedroom, running her hands
all over my silken body, then she reached down and began to remove my gown.
I was sorry to feel it leave my body, but I wanted to make love to her so
badly. "I have one more surprise for you, dear one; come lay down in bed.
When I did, still fully clothed in the frilly white underthings and heels,
she said, "I want this to be a real surprise," and she blindfolded me with a
silk scarf. I lay there, allowing the feelings caused by the clothes I was
wearing to sweep over and through my body. I knew that I was very, very
high from all that I had drunk, and I felt very vulnerable, as I felt Joanne
getting into bed. She gently parted my legs, positioning herself between
them, and she leaned over and removed my blindfold. Her breasts touched
mine, and I whispered, "I thought you had another surprise for me." "I do,
my sweet innocent, I do," and she raised her body up. I looked down, and
saw - a cock protruding from her! I looked again and saw that she was
wearing a harness around her waist into which a a double-sided, realistic
looking false penis had been put. I saw that she had inserted one side into
her pussy, and that the other was pointed directly at me. "N ...no, I ..."
I began, and putting one fingertip over my red lips, she said, "don't worry,
I'll be gentle." In spite of the wine, I was scared as she slipped my frilly
sissy-panties down my legs, raising my thighs until my highheeled feet were
flat on the bed. She slid a pillow under me, raising my hips, and I began
to tremble at the thought of her invading my virgin ass. She played with my
tiny rosebud with one lubricated finger, running it around and around, then
gently inserting it into me. The penetration was resisted at first, but I
tried to relax myself as much as possible, and she managed to insert the
full length inside me. She moved it in and out, relaxing me, and I felt
myself expanding, then beginning to enjoy her ministrations. Then I felt a
second finger join the first, and in a little while a third. She gently
expanded me until we both felt that I was ready. I felt totally submissive
to her, and I felt her fingers being withdrawn, and the tip of the fake
penis against me. She slowly inserted the tip, allowing me to become
accustomed to the feeling, then gradually began to press more of it into me.
It felt like a burning, tearing pole, splitting me in two, and tears of pain
gathered in my eyes. Then I suddenly felt myself relax fully, and the
entire lubricated length was inside me. I felt so much like a woman at that
moment, and I realized that this was the culmination of the everything that
had begun on that first fateful day when I put on the pink panties.
Joanne slid herself in and out of me, and began to stroke my cock at the
same time, saying "I've wanted to fuck you so much for months - I've dreamed
of you like this! I wanted to play with your little clitty while I fucked
your sissy boy-cunt." And I felt myself getting hotter and hotter from her
words and touch, and my hips began to move in rhythm with her thrusts, as I
welcomed her into my virgin hole. She gave a great gasp, and a final
massive plunge into me, as her hand stroked me to a simultaneous climax. In
a moment I felt her starting to withdraw from me, but I grapsed her hips and
pulled her back deep inside me. "No, please, I ... please, more," I
begged, not wanting to feel the emptiness without her inside me. She kissed
me, and with a sweet rocking motion, gave me the pleasuring I wanted so
much. Her motions quickened, as her excitement built again, and I moved in
synch with her, no longer excited myself, but just wanting to experience the
womanly feeling of submission to her partner's insistent penetration. From
that night on, I often dressed fully, and learned with Joanne's expert
teaching not only how to apply makeup, but all the things I needed to look
and act more feminine.
As more time passed, Joanne's newly found assertiveness stood her in good
stead, as she carried over her role of strength to work. She had been
promoted shortly before our anniv-her-sary, and when her boss, a
vice-president resigned, she was promoted again, into his job. The salary
and bonus that went with it were beyond anything we could have imagined a
year before, and I felt so proud of her. The only downside was that she was
working longer and harder than ever before, and was much bossier and
demanding, but I found myself slipping more and more into the spousal role.
I always had dinner prepared for her when she came home, and was doing most
of the housework. I didn't mind at all, as I went about my chores, always
fully dressed as a woman.
My own career progress, unfortunately, was not nearly so successful. My
work had slipped, but worse than that, the company I worked for was in
serious financial trouble. One day, my boss called me in, and told me that
I was being let go, as part of a company-wide layoff. I sat there stunned
for a minute, my business-like exterior suit covering my panties and
pantyhose. "There's nothing at all I can do?" I asked. "A transfer,
anything?" He apologized, saying that he was sorry, and that I would get six
months severance pay, but telling me that the decision was final. I walked
out of his office in a daze, not believing that this could have happened. I
cleaned out my desk, got my final check from personnel, and went home. I
managed to hold it in until I got there, but as soon as I walked in, I burst
into tears. I stripped off all my clothes, even my panties, and cried for
hours, lying naked in our bed.. When Joanne got home, I heard her calling
me, but I just lay there until she came upstairs and found me. I sobbed out
what had happened, and she held me in her arms and comforted me. "Don't
worry, sweetheart, I love you and I'll always take care of you." When I told
her that I felt guilty, that maybe my crossdressing had changed me and
caused me to be fired, she told me that, of course it had changed me, but
that wasn't the reason. "I love when you dress," she said, "you know that."
I put on a nightgown and robe and we went downstairs. We had something to
eat, and I began to feel a little better. "Maybe you should take a little
time off, hon," she finally said, "before you try to find a new job. We
really don't need the money, and its been so stressful for you." I sort of
agreed, but expressed my reservations. "Really, I'd like you to relax for a
while, then you can find something you like."
The little while stretched out, though, and I found myself dressing as a
woman all the time. I was passable, really more than passable, and I was
able to go outside without fear of being discovered. I began to shave my
body and before long I was fully living the role of housewife. The months
and weeks stretched into years, and there is no question of my ever trying
to be a man again. Joanne became more and more dominant as time went on,
and, in truth, we now have a Mistress-slave relationship. I have discovered
that I am a truly submissive person, and want nothing more than to be able
to serve her in any way she commands. I have not cut my hair, and it is now
long enough to cover my breasts. One tradition we have kept up is our
annual anniv-her-sary celebration; each year I am subjected to whatever
present she provides me with. On our second anniv-her-sary, my ears were
pieced, and all the hair was removed from my body by electrolysis. On the
third, I was sent to a hospital for breast implants and hormone treatments.
My Mistress loves to play with my new titties, making my nipples harden and
extend, and for our fourth year, they were pierced and nipple rings were
inserted. I love my Mistress, and I do anything and everything for her.
I hear Mistress coming up the stairs, and I know that I am about to receive
my fifth anniv-her-sary gift. My body tingles with anticipation, and I know
that this will be the best present ever. She enters the room, wearing her
finest black leather dominatrix outfit, a smile on her face. "Are you ready
for your gift, slave Suzi?" "Oh, yes, Mistress, I am!" I cry out in the
high-girlish voice that I know she likes. I look at the object that she is
holding in her hands, and I am puzzled for a moment as to what it is. She
bends down to plug it into the electric outlet, and holds it in front of me.
The object begins to heat up and the tip glows red. She undoes the leather
pouch that is holding my cock. The letter "J" can be clearly seen as the
iron heats up, and as she takes hold of my exposed cock, says, "Suzi, I am
going to mark you forever as my slave." As the branding iron is placed on
the top of the head of my cock, and I smell my tender flesh burning, the
pain shoots through me like lightning. But my thoughts are not of pain, or
of my branded flesh, but rather of what next year's wonderful gift could
possibly be to top this!
1
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