I grew up in a strongly patriarchal household. My mother stayed home, cooked, cleaned, and deferred to her iron-willed husband in every way. So I naturally assumed this was the way of the world and expected my life to follow the same course.
That said, I must admit that even if I didn't consciously recognize it ten years ago when I met my wife, Sherri's confident, imperious manner was erotically compelling, even then.
Nevertheless, I took charge in the bedroom, as I had in the boardroom at the bank, where I pulled down a good salary and passed up no opportunity to lord it over my underpaid and overworked staff.
But as the years went by I found it more and more difficult to suppress unwelcome but spontaneous thoughts and scenarios that strongly contradicted my alpha male self-image. For example, one day after work, I arrived home to find Sherri confidently shimmying around the house in a tight leather skirt, sheer black stockings, and expensive, black stiletto boots. This was in stark contrast to her usual stylish but demure manner of dress. The sight of her uncharacteristically flaunting her sexuality induced an uninvited but vivid fantasy of me naked, down on all fours, worshipping and licking her gorgeous boots as she viciously reddened my ass with a riding crop.
After experiencing these unnerving submissive fantasies, I'd overcompensate, aggressively having my way with Sherri, always me on top, pinning her to the bed as I flailed away.
Over the next year and a half, my submissive reveries became more frequent and more irrepressible. Finally, one day when Sherri was visiting her family in California, I gave in. I lay down on the bed, took my cock in hand, and exploded while dreaming of Sherri forcing me to my knees to lick her pussy while her lover's cock plunged into her from behind.
The dam finally burst unexpectedly. We were watching a movie together, snuggled on the sofa. There was a graphic scene featuring a leather-clad dominatrix brandishing and cracking a bull whip. Sherri felt my cock go instantly stiff and sensed my breath quicken and my heart pounding. She looked over at me, slightly astonished, and said "this is really turning you on, isn't it?" I tried to deny it, but my throbbing cock said otherwise. She knew I was lying and said "I've been wondering about you lately, and now I know. You're not exactly the kind of man you pretend to be, are you?" I muttered and stammered and denied but she was on to me.
Things went on pretty normally after that for a few weeks. But, looking back, I wonder how I missed the obvious warning signs. She was spending endless hours engrossed on her computer, apparently corresponding with unknown people. But I was especially busy at the bank in those days and didn't give it a second though. Sherri bought clothes and household goods online routinely, so the steady stream of parcels arriving at our door didn't arouse any undue curiosity.
Exactly a month later I was driving home from work, feeling horny and trying not to envision Sherri as a bullwhip-wielding domina, like the woman in the movie. I resolved to assertively take her in the ass as soon as I walked in the door, to exorcise my submissive demons.
But as I entered our home it was unusually quiet. Sherri's car was in the driveway but she was nowhere to be seen. I wandered through the house, searching the living room, kitchen, and bedrooms but finding no sign of her. Finally, I called out to her through the unexpectedly locked basement door. She answered, saying "I'm down here honey. I want you to join me but I have a request. It's an unusual request, but I think you'll learn to like it. Go to the dining table. You'll find an envelope there. Open it, read the letter inside, and do exactly as it says."
My head said to kick down the door and be a man, but my stiff cock and my pounding heart sent me scurrying to read the letter.
"Dear Jerry: we've both known for a long time that you're not what you pretend to be. And neither am I. I've noticed the bulge in your pants when I'm wearing my boots or tight leather pants and heels. So I've finally decided to do something about it. You don't have the strength or confidence to own up to your true nature so I'm going to finally take charge and set our relationship on the course God and nature intended.
"I want you to go into the bedroom immediately and strip off all your clothes. Then open the middle dresser drawer and lay out the items you find there. Put them on. Look at yourself in the mirror and say out loud three times 'I'm Sherri's little sissy faggot. I live to serve her.'
"Then go into the garage and open the box with you name on it. Take out the items one at a time and imagine what I have in mind for you as you examine them. Then, bring them downstairs. The door will be unlocked. You'll find another letter on the workbench with further instructions.
I did just as she said, discovering silk stockings, garter belt, and a French maid's outfit in the dresser drawer. I felt a bizarre mixture of arousal and humiliation as I put them on, examining the mockery of manliness that looked back at me from the bedroom mirror as I muttered the vows she specified.
Then in the garage I found a vicious looking black leather bullwhip. There were various shackles and handcuffs, and a bar with ankle cuffs, presumably to spread a victim's legs apart, rendering him vulnerable and helpless. There was a frightening black rubber strap-on dildo, gags, restraints, and a few items which especially worried me because I could only guess at their intended purpose. Clearly she'd had a very productive month mining the pollutive depths of the Internet.
My heart was pounding and I was visibly trembling as I carried the implements down to the basement. It required three trips. Sherri was nowhere to be seen, presumably hidden behind the locked bathroom door. Then I found the second letter.
"Now that you've come this far I know that you will do as you're told, and that you will fully submit to me, your new Mistress. But I also know that there's going to be a core of resistance deep inside your soul; a false sense of manly pride that will prevent you from fully accepting my role as overlord and Mistress, and your rightful place as my slave and plaything.
"So I'm going to do things to you; things that will hurt you physically and emotionally. But like a wild horse, I must break you, and free you from your stubborn, false manliness. You'll thank me when it's all over, but it will be an agonizing journey for you at times. Not only will I be merciless, I'll savor your misery, knowing that I'm helping you, that you need the suffering to discover your true purpose in life.
I did as she said, robotically bending to her will. Then the bathroom door opened. Sherri strode out confidently in towering thigh-high boots. A latex catsuit accentuated her full breasts and exquisite curves, her hair pulled up in a severe style that revealed her lovely, sensuous neck and lent her an air of erotic matronly authority .
She clicked up to me confidently on her stiletto heels, took my chin in her hands, and kissed me full on the lips, laughing softly and maliciously. Then she stepped to a nearby table and made an erotic show of pulling on a pair of long, black rubber opera gloves. I was rock hard but also deeply afraid of what was likely to follow.
Then she turned and said in an icy, firm tone "Get on your hands and knees and crawl to your Mistress!" I hesitated, instinctively resisting her newly unleashed authority and power. I immediately regretted my hesitation as she stepped forward suddenly, and viciously kicked me full bore in the testicles. I dropped to all fours, as she had demanded, uncontrollably gasping for air, struggling not to vomit.
Quick as a cat, she somehow strapped something tight around my scrotum, locked it in place, and then cuffed me by my wrists to the immovable legs of a heavy workbench that was screwed unmovably into the basement floor. Then she sat on a chair nearby, crossed her legs erotically, smiling sweetly, savoring my helplessness and humiliation.
She sat like that for a full five minutes, saying nothing, allowing the impact of my helplessness to fully sink in. Then, she took a cane from the things I'd been instructed to bring to the basement and walked slowly over to me. Without warning she began to beat me on my thighs and ass, laughing at my pathetic, squirming efforts to avoid the vicious blows.
Then she stopped, her breasts heaving from the effort and the sexual excitement of her power over me. After I recovered my wits, she walked to the table and produced something that looked like a small TV remote. "Do you know what I've locked around your little nutsack, darling?" I stammered something stupid and she cut me off with a shake of her head and a wave of her hand.
"It's an electroshock device; very useful in aversion therapy. We use it to forcefully root out unwanted or harmful behaviors. When I feel I'm not getting your full cooperation, I'll use it to get your attention. Do you understand?" I nodded mutely.
With that, she stood up and walked over to me. The rich aroma of leather and latex, along with the sight of her ample breasts straining to escape from her skin-tight catsuit flooded my senses. I was overcome with panic and tried desperately to get loose from the table, the cuffs rattling frantically against the immovable iron legs.
