On his weekend of silky gender bending, she delivers a new thrill.
Male/female - married -- bondage - femdom -- crossdressing -- sissy - gagged - tied - submissive -- teasing -- wife -- husband
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A month later as we cleared the breakfast dishes, my Linda asked me:
"Have you been a good gurl, or a bad gurl?"
Yes, I could hear the "u" in the word. She had made passing mentions of some play this weekend. I had no idea she was thinking about a morning workout.
I was sent to the shower. As I emerged, I found a silken packet folded neatly on the counter. I shook out a full paneled girdle, in a delicate rose-pink hue. I scrubbed myself dry with the towel, then worked the girdle up my hips, finally settling it into place. My balls were squished painfully with nowhere to go. It was much tighter than any boxer brief I had ever worn.
Linda laughed as I entered the bedroom, and I blushed, covering my groin with both hands. "No, silly, that's fine. It's just your Saturday morning beard. It doesn't match your girlish figure. But I don't care, I love it. You'll be a rough looking sissy today."
After I turned and modeled for her, she seated me at her vanity table, amidst an array of colored bags. "It occurred to me that I like the dress-up games, but why am I doing all of the work?" she said, settling back against our headboard. "You can dress your sissy self! Start with the grey bag in front of you."
I unpacked a new bra, rose pink to match my girdle. Under her approving gaze, I pulled the garment around me, fastening the delicate hooks. I slid the band 180 degrees around me and fit my arms through the straps. My foam inserts followed; I settled them into place, achieving my familiar fully endowed figure.
Thigh high stockings were next, in a blueish hue with a slight textured pattern. I tugged them up as high as I could.
The white bag included a rust-colored pullover sweater. I struggled into it; it hugged my bust like a second skin. I felt like a 60s pin-up, a sweater girl. My phallus was beginning to swell and signal its frustration.
She had also scored a new navy skirt for me. It had a wider profile, shin length, and generally more flow than my black one. I pictured taking longer steps than the mincing ones forced by the tighter hem of the black skirt. It fit beautifully, and I rocked my hips, seeing the sway in our mirror.
At the mirror, I attached a pair of screw post dangling earrings. Though I asked, I was denied a lipstick, as soon I would be rendered speechless. Linda promised that soon we would start eye make-up lessons. I wondered if that was taking my kink too far, but that was a discussion for another day.
At her direction, I unfurled and folded a silken scarf, settled it over my short hair and knotted it. The headscarf seemed glamorous to me and softened my masculine appearance. (We had ordered a wig from an on-line company, but sent it back as neither of us liked the quality. Our search would continue.)
The contents of another bag were more sinister. I excitedly buckled on wide leather wrist and ankle cuffs. Linda got off the bed and with a double headed spring bolt, she cuffed my hands in front, allowing me some play and freedom.
I followed my sweet wife to the living room. Here she swung open the door of the coat closet. "Missy, I want this closet cleaned out. You may carry all of these coats and place them on the guest bed. And be quick about it."
With my hands cuffed as they were, it occasioned several trips. Linda carped at me to slow my stride, to remember my lessons in walking as a woman. If I was struggling in my stocking feet, how would I graduate to walking in heels?
I bent for the assorted boxes and junk on the closet floor and earned an appreciative murmur from my queen. The girdle, it seemed, did things for my backside that I hadn't appreciated.
Next, I was ordered to vacuum the house. I spent extra time cleaning that closet floor, living room, and hallway. It seemed awkward with my hands cuffed as they were, but I made it work. As I pulled the vacuum to and fro, I pictured a 1950s style housewife in skirt and pearls. I loved that sweet feminine image; the thought that I was following in that line excited me.
The vacuuming chore completed, it was time that I was gagged. She had 3 small panties laid out, and a roll of micro foam tape. (I would be sorry I hadn't shaved close that morning). For each panty I could cram into my horny mouth, I would earn a reward. I carefully positioned one, then two in my maw. I slowly stuffed in the third sexy undergarment. I sealed my own mouth with a strip of tape, smoothing it carefully. The microfoam was like a second skin, we could both see the outline of my lips.
Linda grabbed the double bolt and led me by the wrists back to the living room closet. She had affixed thongs and rings to the clothes bar. "In one of my favorite horror movies, the girl is tied in a closet like this while the attacker comes closer. I promise I won't attack you, but I want you bound up in there."
Obediently, I backed in. She unfastened the bolt, only to reattach each wrist to the rings on the clothes bar. My arms were secured at about shoulder width.
Another spring bolt held my ankle cuffs. Several winds of rope cinched my knees, she made a complicated knot in the back. I grew excited as I always did when being secured, made all the more stimulating seeing my bust fill out the tight sweater. I shifted where I stood, feeling my thick dick on the satiny girdle.
Regarding me with a grin, Linda said, "Now I have a little surprise. We're having company."
I was stunned. Our play games were strictly personal.
"Antonia is coming over for coffee. She thinks you are out for the morning. We're going to exchange some books, and have coffee sitting right over there. Now it's up to you: if you want to rattle your little chains, we can let her in on your twisted news. Or you just stand behind the door, sexy in your bondage, and listen quietly to the girls like a sorority pledge. "
I shook my head and protested as much as my stuffed mouth would allow. Linda huffed and left the room; I twisted feebly trying to reach the hooked cuffs.
"I hoped you wouldn't be a bitch about this, but in these clothes, I suppose a bitch is what you've become. Stop squirming." She wrapped a long scarf neatly around my throat; with the loose ends, she tied them to the clothes rod, trapping my neck against the rod. "There, now don't fuss. Let's see how this works."
My wife slowly shut the door, literally in my face. She stopped the motion mere centimeters from closing. Through the crack I could see her movement, and she settled on an easy chair facing me across the room. She sprang up and returned, asking if I could see her and if the angles were right? I nodded. As I didn't have much say in the matter, I was growing enthusiastic about her plan.
Linda left me alone to prepare for her guest. I zoned out as I frequently did, mentally lost in bondage dreams. My wrists and neck made fast to the bar, I could move my hips and feel the hem of the skirt sway with me. The bra and sweater hugged my form, creating a soft shelf. My neck and face were hot with lusty excitement. My cock oozed fluid into my panty girdle.
Did I hear a noise? Did a car pull up? I vocalized as best I could to call Linda to me. She returned to the room and peeked out at the street. "Yes, that's her."
She came to me, and said, "One more thing."
She swiftly yanked down my lovely skirt, leaving it pooled at my ankles. From the waist down, I stood in girlish girdle and nylons.
