bossymsbecky
profiles-in-perversity:

Honestly you are so selfish, how can you put you need for oxygen above my need for satisfaction

From reactions to certain texts I write, I know that there are people who find me too selfish. To be sure: a caption like the above would never even enter my mind. Health before all!

profiles-in-perversity:

Honestly you are so selfish, how can you put you need for oxygen above my need for satisfaction

From reactions to certain texts I write, I know that there are people who find me too selfish. To be sure: a caption like the above would never even enter my mind. Health before all!

Read your blog some with coffee this morning. I'm actually impressed with it actually being a blog and not some repost. (present company guilty). Loved the kudos from you & others as to the quality of my question yesterday. Almost felt like I'd impressed the Dommes out there, as a good sub should. In hopes as to not fail with a poor question today, here's my offering. Do you think of 'possessions' as being subs, slaves or for the lack of a better word 'tools'? Myself? I'm a sub.

If I get your question right: I do see my bf as my property. I’m a lawyer by profession and some will argue that this cannot be so, but I consider him my legal property. He is my life partner, my sex toy, my maid and many, many things more. He is my everything (who makes the bluebirds sing). But I am his owner and he belongs to me. 

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Have you thought about marrying your boyfriend?

I have… not sure what the point of it would be exactly… maybe when the time to have kids has come (although even thenI do not consider it a must)…

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thanks so much on the helpful instructions on cfnm ... will try it out ... would share how it works.

Always glad when people find my blog fun - if they find it helpful, so much the better!

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As your picture shows, clean-shaven male genitals can look natural and even appealing when enshrouded in silk, lace and ribbons. But the real purpose of dressing a man up like this is to apply stimulation and constraint in equal measure. With his cock pressed to attention in a snug-fitting silk coccoon, every movement of his body generates a frisson of sexual excitement. And yet his member is kept frustratingly out of reach until she decides it's time to play.
Anonymous

If you say so…not so sure about the constraint though. A panty girdle is ebtter in that respect than pantes or French knickers.

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profiles-in-perversity:

Installing this bathroom intern is the best comp our company could ever come up with

The Happy Face
x

profiles-in-perversity:

Installing this bathroom intern is the best comp our company could ever come up with

The Happy Face

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Pinafored, then feminized

Received the below story from an anonymous follower, who said he had not written it himself, but that it might interest me. I thought it was a bit long and there are several elements that I do not approve of, but… I’m sure some of my followers will enjoy it. And it set me thinking about feminization and sissification. More about that to follow! (If the actual author reads this and wishes to be credited, please let me know.)

I hadn’t even untied the strings of my apron, was actually in the act of rinsing my hands under the kitchen tap when Pamela - I mean ‘Princess’ - came wandering in. She looked around the area, as if inspecting it. Obviously didn’t see anything exciting, so smiled gently at me. Held out a bunch of yellow silken material.

“Missy?” She said, “There’s a few buttons need tightening up on this blouse. Think you could take care of it?”
She is a beautiful woman. About sizes with me, maybe a little taller. Has a beautiful complexion, cornflower blue eyes, lustrous blonde hair falling to her shoulders, a willowy figure, a good carriage, sulky pouty lips and a sexy expression at all times – what more could any man want in a wife?
I looked at her, a combination of exasperation and adoration coursing through my mind.
“Pamela? What are you doing? We just got back from our honeymoon this morning. I’ve done the unpacking. I’ve done the wash. I made the dinner. I did the clean up. Now you’re asking me to sew – is that it? Sew buttons on your blouse? I’m your husband! Not your servant!”
A sort of puzzlement crossed her eyes. “But you’re supposed to take care of me. Isn’t that what you promised? Isn’t that what you told my mum?”
“Of course that’s what I promised.” I remonstrated. ”But I took on the obligations of a husband! You took on the obligations of a wife!”
“But mum said ..”
“I don’t care what your mother said.” I said recklessly. ”We have to establish a relationship – and that reminds me. I think you should start calling me ‘Mike’.”
Her puzzlement was replaced by a sort of surprised amusement. ”But everybody calls you Missy. Why should I call you Mike? That’s silly!”
I gritted my teeth. ”My name is Michael Mitson. Always has been. Just because the people in your mother’s office started calling me something based on my last name doesn’t mean that you have to..”
“But your name isn’t Michael Mitson any more, is it? Didn’t you change your name to mine when we got married?” She retorted with a little giggle. ”Isn’t your legal name now ‘Mr. Pamela Laird?”
She gave a little shrug of her shoulders and added. “Or would you rather be called Pamela?”
“This is silly!” I argued. ”You may have a point. But you are Pamela. I’m Mike. We’re married. I’m the husband, you’re the wife!”
“Ok.” She replied carelessly. ”You’re the husband. I’m the wife. If that’s all you need to make you happy. Now will you tighten up the sewing on these buttons? This is one of my favorite blouses..”
“Sewing is a wife’s job! Cooking is a wife’s job! Looking after a husband is a wife’s job! Don’t you understand?” I interrupted, letting my aggravation show.
Another curious expression crossed her face. ”You expect me to do my own sewing? And all that other kind of stuff?”
“Yes.” I said impatiently. ”Just like all the other wives in the world.”
She still seemed confused by all of this, as if it was something she’d never considered – or even heard of before.
“And you called me ‘Pamela’” she added, as if remembering this suddenly.
“Isn’t that your name?” I asked with a little sarcasm.
“My mum calls me ‘Princess’” she said.
“That’s ridiculous!” I replied. ”You can’t have a husband going around calling you by the pet name your mother uses.”
“Oh!” Was all she said, walking out of the kitchen, her blouse still in her hand.
I actually felt a little sorry for the poor dear, but thought that an introduction to the real aspects of married life was badly needed.
She didn’t talk much to me that evening, and we didn’t have sex again in bed. As we had been married for over two weeks by that time and hadn’t consummated our marriage yet, it didn’t come as much of a surprise. With all the traveling and clean-up I’d worked at that day, I was pretty tired though, so fell asleep before I’d time to think about it too much.
The following morning I left her sleeping as I got ready for work. I’d intended to leave her breakfast for her to make herself but relented – after all, I had been quite firm the night before – so made the coffee just the way she liked it, poured her juice, prepared her cereal, and left her newspaper propped beside her place mat just the way she’d told me she liked it. I actually thought of asking her for some money to get my hair cut – it was actually getting far too long, even for my pony tail – but decided against it. She could get quite grumpy if awakened too early.
The girls at the office were all pleased to see me back, making sly remarks about how tired I looked around the eyes. Alice, the office girl, brought me my mug of coffee just the way I like it. I did say a little about how lovely Kauai had been but phones started ringing so we were all busily engaged when Dorothy came in.
My mother in law is a commanding presence. Tall, burnished copper hair, piercing blue eyes, immaculately made up and coiffed at any given time, a deep contralto voice to complement her usual office attire of tailored, yet feminine, suits and blouses. A woman of great confidence – and one that terrifies the living shit out of me. I hid this fear, or so I thought, quite well.
“Hi Missy!” She called out as she came into the office. ”Survived, did you?”
“Barely. Dorothy, barely.” I joked back in the same tone.
She smiled a tight little smile, then went into her private office.
At that particular time, I held a sort of position in the office. It had never really been defined, but it had some power as the girls – Mary, Jan, Liz, and Gretchchen who were the senior girls all deferred to my opinion in things great and small. These girls were all extremely competent and confident. Alice, the office girl, was younger. She was extremely feminine and the other girls teased her about this on an ongoing basis. Not meanly of course – more like older sisters giving the baby of the family a hard time.
Before I’d married Pamela - Princess - I’d worked there about six months. At first the relationship with the girls had been extremely formal. Everyone, except Dorothy of course, called me ‘Mr. Mitson’. Where it had started, I’d no idea, but gradually, this had been changed to ‘Mitson’, then ‘Mitsy’ then, somehow or other, I’d discovered that they all were calling me ‘Missy’. I’d wanted to comment on this a number of times, but never could seem to pick the right moment.
What made this feminine connotation of my name stand out was the fact that, in contrast, their names were all so short – and authoritative somehow. The only exception was Dorothy – which was the name that everyone used when speaking to, or of, her – and Alice, of course.
To tell the truth, I was shy of women. When Princess started coming around the office, I was amazed to discover first of all that she thought me ‘cute’. Then, somehow, we seemed to have established an ‘understanding’. I was confused, but what young man wants to admit that he’s no idea why an attractive, rich, young woman is interested in him? We dated a few times, but it was more her taking me out than the other way around.
An interview with Dorothy established a prenuptial agreement – and somehow or other made it a fact that I took on Pamela’s name as my own. (I don’t know what cock and bull reason Dorothy came up with – but I gave in on that – as I gave in on other matters). The wedding was quiet and private. After the ceremony we flew to Kauai and spent two weeks lolling on the beach in front of Dorothy’s house there – at least Pamela – I mean Princess – lolled about while I prepared meals and drinks. Now we were home, and I was rather pleased at the amount of backbone I’d started to show.
Some time later, I was quite surprised to hear Liz say. “Well! Here’s the bride herself! Hi Princess! You’re looking nice and tanned.”
Princess was pleased with the attention and preened in front of all the girls for a little while as they complimented her on her appearance and clothes – and her tan of course. She smiled distantly at me but, as I was on the phone at the time, just walked by me into Dorothy’s office with a tiny wave. She was carrying a shopping bag. I was still on the same phone call when Dorothy came out of her office.“Missy! My office please! On the double!” She said loudly.
I gulped. She was mad about something. God! Was she ever. Quickly I terminated my conversation and scurried into her office, all of the girls averting their eyes as I did so.
“Shut the door Missy.” She said kindly enough, “then come over and sit here.”
I shut the door, confused. She sat in her normal big chair but instead of it being behind her desk, it was pulled out onto the carpeted area. Princess sat in the couch on the other side of the office. I was confused because there weren’t any other chairs close to Dorothy. I smiled hesitantly.
“Where Dorothy? Where do you want me to sit?”
“Here!”
“But there isn’t a chair..”
“On my lap silly! On my lap! Get your tush over here. We’re going to have a little family discussion, and I want to keep it friendly. Ok?”
I certainly didn’t want an unfriendly discussion with this woman, so walked to her and, gingerly, lowered myself onto her lap. She put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me back.
“Very good Missy! Now lean back into my shoulder. Cuddle in. There, that’s it! Comfy?”
“Yes Dorothy.” I whispered.
She stiffened underneath me. “There! That’s one thing we need to take care of immediately. We’re all family now, the three of us, right?”
“Yes Dorothy. You’re right..”
“So enough of this ‘Dorothy’ business. I want you to call me ‘Mummy’.”
“Eh?” I said. ”Mummy? But that sounds… Well, kinda childish. And everybody calls you Dorothy – even Pa – I mean Princess.”
“But I want you to call me Mummy. Isn’t that enough for you? Do you want to displease me?” She was whispering in my ear now, but there was a threat there, with little or no attempt to hide it.
“Oh no!” I said quickly.
“Oh no what?” She demanded.
“No Mummy.” I surrendered.
She relaxed and directed her next comment to Princess. ”See? Wasn’t I right? I just knew that Missy here would be nice and agreeable. Didn’t I tell you?”
“Yeah Dorothy, but what about…” Princess said.
“Hush Princess.” Dorothy said gently. ”Now, I’m going to tell you – and all the girls in the office to tell me if Missy ever calls me anything but Mummy again.” She turned her mouth into my ear again and whispered. “It’d be, well, just like you didn’t want to admit that you’re part of my family. Wouldn’t it? And you’d want to be reminded if you forgot, wouldn’t you Missy?”
Red faced with humiliation, I replied. “Yes Mummy.”
“There! That’s settled.” She said, allowing me to raise myself to a little more erect position. ”Now what’s this about you refusing to do a little sewing job for Princess? And all this nonsense about you being the husband, and her being the wife? What’s got into you? If I remember rightly you sat in my home and assured me that you would do everything in your power to take care of my little Princess.”
“But I can’t sew Mummy. I don’t know how!” I protested.
“Well! Is that all it was? Why didn’t you say so? I mean, you can learn, can’t you? And you want to learn, eh?”
“But Mummy?” I asked despairingly. ”It’s normally – well – usually the woman who does things like that in a marriage.”
“Like what?”
“Well? Like sewing and cooking and cleaning and…”
“That’s ridiculous and it’s the most sexist thing I’ve ever heard!” She snapped. ”You mean to tell me that you expect my Princess to cook and clean – and all that other stuff – for you?”
“Well, no Mummy. It’s just…”
”Missy! You’re really aggravating me. Are you going to sit here and refuse to meet your agreement. If you are…?”
“Oh no Mummy! Oh no!” I dithered. ”Nothing like that. Oh no! Nothing like that at all.”
“So you’ll take care of Princess, just like you promised?”
“Yes Mummy.”
She relaxed. ”Princess? Go and ask Alice to come in her, would you and, while you’re at it? Ask Liz to move all of Missy’s stuff down to that vacant desk beside Alice’s – he’s going to be working alongside her for a while.”
As usual, Princess pouted a little as usual at being asked to do anything but stood up and shrugged. ”Isn’t Missy going to need this?” She asked, touching the shopping bag she’d brought in with her.
“Oh yes. I’d forgotten that.” Mummy said. ”Give it over here.”
Princess handed it over on her way out of the office. A few seconds later, Alice peeked her head around the office door.
“You want me Dorothy?” She piped, smiling. Then a puzzled expression crossed her eyes as she saw me sitting on Mummy’s lap.
“I want you to teach Missy here how to sew properly.” Mummy said. ”For practice? Teach her – I mean him – how to sew buttons on blouses first. Like this one.” And she reached into the bag and pulled out the yellow blouse from the night before, then handed it to Alice, who immediately inspected it.
Alice smiled. ”Oh that’s easy. I’d be glad to do it. There isn’t much work here at all.”
“That’s very nice of you dear.” Mummy said, “but Missy wants to learn how to do it right, wants to please Princess don’t you Missy? And don’t you need lots of practice, eh?”
“Yes Mummy.” I whispered.
“So what I want…” She continued talking to Alice. ”Missy is moving down to beside your desk. Today I want you to cut all of the buttons off the blouse and have Missy sew them on again until you’re completely satisfied that they’re sewn back on properly. You know? Nice and neat and delicate. Have him do them a number of times if necessary. Then, for the next month or so after that I want you two to spend all your time together. By the end of that time, Alice, I want Missy to be an accomplished little housewife. Isn’t that what you want too, Missy?”
I thought I’d reached the end of my humiliation later when, after I’d agreed to everything and was sneaking out the door, Mummy cracked the whip some more.
“And guess what Alice? Missy was too shy to mention it to you, but wants to say ‘thanks’ in a very special way, don’t you Missy?”
I looked at her, dazed, no idea what she was talking about.
“Want me to tell her?”
I pretended a smile and nodded.
“Missy’ll do the coffees for you – and if you want, he’ll run little errands for you when you don’t have the time. Isn’t that nice?”
“How about the other girls…” Dorothy smiled. Alice understood: ”You mean he’ll run errands for the other girls? Oh, he couldn’t! I mean he’d be so embarrassed..”
Alice was the one embarrassed at first but I guess the sight of me sitting making dainty little repairs to a feminine garment gradually reduced her respect for me. I was making, serving, and cleaning up the coffee cups by
that afternoon – that is, when I wasn’t working on my sewing. Mummy took all of my other assignments away and spread them amongst the other girls. Actually gave Alice quite a lot. ”As he’ll be doing a lot of your work now, Alice,” she’d explained, ”you’ll have more free time.”
Princess dropped by to inspect my work before she left. Smiled approvingly at my efforts. ”Isn’t Missy so nice, girls?” She called out. ”It isn’t many husbands do this kind of thing for their wives, is it?”
And the girls came by to examine my progress and agree that I had to be the sweetest husband in the world – and didn’t I have the sweetest little hands for sewing?
Alice was a competent, though firm, teacher. By the end of that day, she was complimenting me on the tiny stitching I had become capable of. ”You’ve done well Missy.” She told me. ”Now tonight? Ask Princess if she has any repairs she wants done to her lingerie. If she does, bring them in tomorrow and we’ll work on that. Of course, if she wants anything else done, you’d better bring that in too.”
The announcement about me calling Dorothy ‘Mummy’ was made later that day. I also discovered that my workday would from then on be only six hours Monday through Thursdays – to allow me enough time to get home and cook dinner. I was also given Fridays off to provide me enough time to ‘help’ Princess with the housework. This occasioned some jealousy from the other girls at first – but they knew damn well who was actually going to be doing the housework at my place so it was soon forgotten.
At home that evening, Princess was really nice to me as I was tidying away the dinner dishes I’d just washed.
“I’m really sorry Missy. I didn’t want to bring Dorothy into our first quarrel – but I hope you see that I just had to. You were being so unreasonable – and see? It didn’t take too long for you to learn how to do a nice job of fixing my blouse, now did it?”
I blushed though whether at the compliment, or the reminder of the spineless way I’d behaved, I couldn’t tell. Thought it might now be a good time to ask, with her being in an apologetic frame of mind.
“Dear? Could you possibly give me money for tomorrow?”
“But I always give you lunch money.” She replied.
“I meant a little extra.” I wheedled, smiling sweetly.
She frowned a little. “What for?”
“I really need a haircut. It’s getting awfully long.” I said.
“Let’s see.” She said. ”Take the band off, and let your hair down.”
I took the rubber band off and could feel my hair fan out at the back.
“Mmmmm.” She said, feeling my hair. ”You really have pretty hair. Nice body. But I don’t think I want you cutting it just yet. Can’t really understand why you’d want to. So maybe later. Ok?”
I knew better than argue. ”Oh sure dear. That’s fine.” I said picking up the rubber band.
“But hold on a minute.” She said. ”Here, let me try something to help show your hair off. C’mere.”
She led me across the room to a coffee table. A piece of scarlet lacy material lay there. Then she twisted my hair into a sort of loose braid, then inserted it through the scarlet band. It was elasticized, so held my hair in place. Horrified, I knew that I was wearing a girl’s lace hair band.
“There!” She smiled happily. “Just knew it needed something. Now doesn’t that look much better?”
I sighed inwardly, frightened to show any sign of disagreement. I looked in the mirror, put my hand up delicately to the back of my head. Pretended to consider her point.
“Oh yes dear. It makes it much tidier.” I said agreeably.
“I meant prettier! Don’t you think you look much prettier?” She asked.
I reddened. ”Well. Now that you mention it, I guess you’re right. Much prettier.”
“Well?” She asked.
“What?”
“Aren’t you going to thank me for making you prettier?”
“Thank you Princess.” I said as gratefully as I could.
“De nada.” She smiled regally, with a tiny wave of her hand.
I started to untie my apron strings, but then the shock hit me. I’d forgotten to ask her if she need any sewing repairs to any of her other clothes. What would she – or Mummy – say if they found out I’d ignored Alice’s order? I spoke quickly.
“Oh, almost forgot Princess. Do you need any more sewing repairs to anything?”
She thought for a second or two.
“Yes. I’m pretty sure I do. There’s at least one of my slips, and a couple of my nightdresses have what looks like the start of seams splitting. Why? Do you want to work on them just now?”
“Oh no dear.” I said. ”Alice just though she could show me how to do different kinds of sewing tomorrow. I was going to take them to work.”
“Very good! What a nice idea. Isn’t it nice of Alice to take the time to show you all this neat stuff? Here, I’ll go and get them.”
“Oh, there’s no hurry.” I said. ”You can give them to me in the morning.”
“Well, I was going to ask you to rinse out my undies anyway,” she said ”this way, you can do the ones needing repair as well.”
“Rinse out your undies?” I faltered.
“If you don’t mind? And give them a touch up with an iron as well? I like my undies nice and fresh feeling. And I sure wouldn’t want you to take something into work that wasn’t freshly laundered either. Wouldn’t want any of the girls thinking that you weren’t taking proper care of me, would I?”
I found out I rather enjoyed rinsing her delicate undies out, they felt so soft, silky, and luxurious. I put them on a cool dry cycle in the dryer not wanting to damage them and, following Princesses advice, took them out while they were still a little damp so that they’d iron nicely.
She let me set up the ironing board so that I could watch television with her, and iron at the same time. I was really nervous as I’d never ironed anything before, let alone such delicate satiny underthings, but I used a cool iron and took a lot of care, so was quite pleased when I’d done everything without mishap. I actually felt quite proud at the small piles of vibrantly colored and pastel panties, slips, and nighties stacked in front of me by the time I’d finished. I’d even given her garter belts (Princess abhors panty hose) a touch with the iron as well, so she was thrilled at my thoughtfulness as well – “Marta never did them for me” she said. ”I’ll let you know if I can tell the difference tomorrow.” She added.
At this point, I should probably let you in on a few things that I’ve forgotten to mention. Before our wedding, Princess had lived with her mother in a penthouse suite in the building we currently stayed in – two floors above our current residence, an apartment much bigger than our actual needs – given to us by Mummy as a wedding present. From the moment she was born, Princess was treated like royalty. I’ve no idea what happened to her father, he just seems to have disappeared, and it is not too smart to even raise the subject of fathers around Princess or her mother.
On the subject of money, I’d made myself completely dependent on my wife. Mummy had indicated that she felt Princess was in need of experience in controlling the finances of running a home. Accordingly, my wages were automatically deposited in Princesses checking account. (I’d been under the impression that it was going to be a joint account, but obviously must have misunderstood). Princess wasn’t keen on handing me any money. I had to account for every dime I spent – and give her the change from my daily allowance. Lunchtime was always humiliating – I had to sit (usually) with three women and calculate to the penny what my share of the bill – and tip, was.
Marta was her mother’s maid. Had been for years, and was totally devoted to the family – me excluded. She was of some mid-European origin, and had a touch of a Slavic pronunciation in her speech, but I could never quite place it. A hive of energy. Always neat and efficient in a series of maid’s uniforms and aprons. Quite soon after our return Princess started comparing everything I was doing to how Marta would have done it – and usually to my detriment.
I found, to my sorrow, the very next day that I had better not be too far behind Marta’s level of excellence.
I’d thought I’d been very good. At the office, I ran some errands for Liz and Gretch. Alice helped me deliver the coffees, though I did have to do the clean up myself. She’d also shown me how to effect the tiny repairs necessary for Princess’s lingerie. I’d had to rip some of my attempts out a number of times, but Alice told the other girls that I showed a really good aptitude as a seamstress. She even had me take in a sample of my work that she was really impressed with and show it to Mummy.
Mummy got the strangest expression on her face as she looked at it. It happened to be a full length slip. Light blue satin, with lace trim in a sort of beige shade.
As she turned it over and over in her hands, I had the feeling that she wasn’t inspecting my work at all. She really couldn’t have been, as she was staring at me rather intently with only her hands running over the material again and again while she made little appreciative noises deep in her throat.
“You’re starting to please me Missy. Do you know that?” She purred.
I blushed. More and more, I was reddening at what was being said to me. In many respects I knew it was embarrassment at being talked at, as if I was some sort of little girl. In others, it was as if I was feeling complimented for things that I’d never been noticed for before.
She smiled, as if she knew my innermost feelings.
“You blush so nicely. All pink and girlish, but there’s nothing wrong with that. I mean, it’s got to be fun working with these pretty things of Princesses, right?” She asked.
“Yes. Well, no. I mean, yes I guess.” I stammered.
“Ever thought of trying something pretty like this on? I’d bet Princess wouldn’t mind.” She was holding the slip up towards me. ”Bet it’d fit. Maybe a little big for you, but you’d look really cute in something satiny like this – don’t you think?”
I took a deep breath, trying to find my composure. Somehow, I knew that if something didn’t happen quickly, my mother in law was going to have me wearing the slip she was holding in her hands. Luckily, Gretchen came bursting into the office with an emergency. I managed to sneak out in the resulting confusion and, other when I delivered her coffee, didn’t see Mummy for the rest of the afternoon.
Living close to the office, I didn’t need to drive. It was a glorious afternoon, so I took my time getting home. It dawned on me that the only freedom I was being allowed was between the apartment and the office. At all other times of the day or night, I was under the control of my wife, my mother in law – or lets face it, Alice and the other office girls. I dawdled, there was no question about it. I probably took about ten minutes more than I normally take. Then I discovered that even my travel to and from my work was not to be mine either.
“Where have you been!” Princess snapped at me the minute I got home.
“Walking home.” I explained. ”It was such a lovely day…”
“You didn’t ask my permission!” She barked.
“Oh c’mon Princess!” I started. ”Since when do I have to.. Ooooow!”
My remarks were cut short with Princess grabbing one of my ears and pulling me along into the kitchen.
“Just be quiet and listen!” She snarled. ”I’m extremely unhappy with you today. I was going to punish you the minute you came home. Do you think I feel any kinder to you when I have to wait another ten minutes? Do you?”
I could only yowl, she was twisting my ear so hard as she pushed me through the door opening.
“Get in there where you belong! Start getting dinner ready. And I better not hear another word out of you until after dinner! And? Go put a nice frilly apron on Missy – and your hair band. Be a nice little sissy Missy for Princess!”
I found a hostess type apron. Quite small, made of a sort of lace material, and scarlet in color to match my hair band. Then I started preparing dinner. I was scared to let Princess see me in case the apron wasn’t what she wanted, but when I went to set the table I had to pass by her. She nodded her head approvingly, then spoke in a far nicer tone.
“Yes. That’s better. Go and get me a drink. Gin and tonic – there’s a girl.”
Mummy had referred to me as a ‘her’ earlier, but then corrected herself. My wife was now referring to me directly as a girl. I felt a surge of shame within me, but said nothing. Even managed a little smile as I went and did her bidding. When I brought her drink back I then proceeded to demonstrate why I was being treated the way I was. She smiled nicely at me as she took the drink from the tray. I think she was just as astounded as I was when I bobbed a little curtsey. I’ll never know what possessed me, it was over and done before I had a chance to even think about it.
She put her drink on the end table beside her and clapped her hands quietly. ”How nice!” She beamed. ”That was really nice. Thank you dear.” Then she picked her drink up and took a sip, then looked at me again, nodding.
“Very good. You can go now Missy.”
And damned if I didn’t do it again! Scarlet with a mixture of rage, humiliation, and anger at my own spinelessness, I turned and left the room, the sound of Princess’s giggles following me.
She had me take the apron off before I sat down to dinner, though I did have to keep the hair ribbon on. I had made a nice Caesar salad and she was very complimentary about it. As I rose to start clearing the table, she said quietly. ”No Missy. Sit for a minute.”
I lowered myself back into my chair. Fearful of what was coming. She gave me a stern look.
“You know why I was mad at you of course?”
I allowed myself an inward sigh of gratitude at her use of the past tense.
“No Princess. Honestly, I don’t.” I breathed sorrowfully.
“Oh come on! You must know of the careless job you did when you ironed my undies. One of my slips and various panties were just very poorly done.”
My mouth dropped open. ”But Princess! It was my very first time. I’m sorry if I did something wrong. But I don’t know what it was. I really tried to be careful.”
“Careful indeed! It was a careless, sloppy job of ironing – that’s what it was, and I’m not used to wearing my lingerie, feeling as if it were some kind of dishrag!”
“Oh dear! I’m so sorry!” I gasped, getting worried again.
“I was going to put you over my knee and give you a damn good spanking.” She said confidently. ”But you’ve been so nice this evening – and I’ve come up with an idea that might not be so hurtful for you. After the dishes are done, come and see me.”
I saw my chance to get in some more brownie points. ”I was going to rinse out the stuff you wore today Princess.”
It worked fairly well. A little smile crossed her face.
“Well I won’t delay you too long. I’d tell you more, but I don’t want to overload your little brain. So run along now.”
Gratefully, I rose from the table and hurried into the kitchen. My obedience had won me some respite from whatever it was she had planned to punish me with. If I kept it up, maybe she would forget it altogether.
This, however, was wishful thinking on my part. When I reported back to her, she instructed me to go into the shower. Gave me some spray on stuff and a ladies safety razor, and explained just how smooth I was to be when I reported to her again.
Completely denuded of all body hair, and powdered with her favorite talc, I reported to her about an hour later. She had indicated that she would give me a thorough inspection, so I just threw a robe on, then met with her in our bedroom.
She grinned as she inspected under my arms and around my privates. Sniffed with appreciation as she caught the delicate scent I was now imbued with. Luckily, I hadn’t cut myself anywhere which pleased her no end.
“Ok Missy. You’ve done a good job. Now, out of that robe!” She held up a handful of ladies undies.

image

I paused, recognizing a set sheer and lacy black panties I’d ironed the night before. There were a teddy, a garter belt and nylons in her hand as well. I licked my lips nervously.

“Ha ha Princess. You’re joking, aren’t you?”
“Stop your babbling. Step into these panties.” She commanded, holding them out in front of me, opened.
“Please?” I said, but stepped into the flimsy garment. She pulled them up into position.
“Please what?” She giggled, giving my backside a sharp slap. ”Let me get this garter belt on you. Stand still now!”
It didn’t take long for her to fasten it around me, then pull the suspender straps down through the panty legs. ”Now, step into the teddy.” She said. ”There! That’s a good girl!”
Seconds later, I was in the teddy. Quickly, she pulled the straps up and had me slide my arms through the shoulder straps, then she snapped a little belt thing that fastened under my crotch. I was now enclosed in the satiny underwear, with suspender straps hanging uselessly down my thighs. In some sort of defensive move, I hugged myself.
“Oh stand up straight for goodness sake!” She snapped, punctuating her comment with a resounding spank on my satin covered buttock. It stung, and I squealed, but straightened up to her satisfaction.
“I wasn’t going to have you wear a bra,” she said going to a drawer and pulling one that matched what I was wearing, “but the teddy just hangs on you and you need something to fill it out. Luckily, this bra has a little padding, so we probably won’t need anything else. Here, stop being so bloody useless! Give me a hand!”
And, with some pulling and stretching, I was wearing a bra as well. A few minutes later, I had been shown how to put nylons on properly, keeping the seams straight, and how to adjust the suspender straps for proper fit.
Then she said, ”I don’t think my shoes will fit you, but there’s a pair in the spare bedroom I was going to give to the goodwill. They’re a little big for me, but they might just fit you. Away and get them. We’ll see how they are when you get back. But here, before you do, you can put your apron and hair braid on. They’re not a perfect match, but they’re not bad.”
Minutes later, I was searching through the goodwill bag in the spare bedroom. Walking there had been an experience. The shame at being dressed and treated like a girl – by my wife for goodness sake! – was still there, but there was an underlying breathy excitement as well. The feeling of the dainty straps at my shoulders, back, and thighs. The little tugs and compressions of satins and lace touching other layers of exotic materials next to my skin was incredible. And not to be denied, a sort of wondrous excitement at being under the complete control of my increasingly dominant wife. What was she going to do to me next?
I found the shoes but didn’t try them on. Carried them back with me to the bedroom. As I got to the door, I heard her say , “Oh that’s a good idea! Bring them along as well then, would you dear?” And she hung up the phone.
I didn’t know who she was talking to, more concerned about the shoes in my hand. They actually fitted me quite well, but they were a little high in the heel. ”It’s not that I care about that,” she said. “But they really do clash with the rest of your outfit. Never mind. I’ve got something else that might work. Before we put them away for the night, let’s see how well you can walk in them.”
She had me walk up and down the room a number of times. Even I could sense my growing capability the sixth or seventh time. Then the door bell rang.
“That’ll be Marta.” Princess said. ”Away and get the door for her Missy, there’s a girl.”
I blanched. ”But…But..”
“Missy!”
She gave me a sharp slap on my behind. Quickly, I scurried downstairs, then opened up the front door for Marta.
She stood there, eyes narrowed, inspecting me. ”If you worked for me, young lady, you’d learn to dress properly, not running around like a floozy in your underwear. I don’t know how Princess puts up with it. You’d better never let Dorothy see you that way! Here! Take these to your mistress!” She was holding out two pairs of shoes.
“I’m not a lady.” I said sharply, “and I won’t have you..”
She reached in through the doorway and took a firm grip of my earlobe.
“Damn right you’re not a lady!” She snarled. ”You’re a damned pansy-sissy. That’s what you are! Here!” And she let my ear go as she pushed the shoes towards me.
“Aren’t you coming in, Marta?” I said, docile now, taking the shoes from her. ”Maybe Princess wants to talk to you?”
“No. I know she’s busy. If the shoes don’t fit, bring them back to me. Right away!”
“Thank you Marta.” I said meekly to her back as she turned and walked down the hall.
On the way back upstairs, terror started to mount in me. Suppose the shoes didn’t fit? If I told Princess what Marta had said, would she send me up two flights of stairs to return the shoes? Somehow, I was sure she would – and the thought of going out in public in my new undies was more than I could bear.
But I needn’t have worried. Marta’s shoes fit me perfectly, and the heels were reasonable in height. I couldn’t figure it out. Marta had sent two pairs. The pretty red ones that matched my undies with the heels was the pair I was wearing. The others were a pair of low heeled brogues – almost like a pair I owned myself.
Princess had changed into a pair of lounging pajamas and a matching robe while she’d had me practicing walking in my new shoes. She sat at the chair in front of her dressing table.
“Over here Missy. You can take the pins out of my hair, and give it a good brush. Here, use this brush.”
And, my hair in a lacy tie, my body encased in a scarlet satin teddy, my legs encased in smoky nylon, and wearing high heels, I stood like any lady’s maid and brushed my wife’s long blonde hair. Every so often, her hand would snake out behind her, and she’d caress my legs or tease the ruffled edge of my teddy or panties.
After about ten minutes, she finally spoke. “You know why I’ve made you wear these pretties, Missy?” She purred.
“Because I didn’t iron them properly?” I asked hesitantly.
“Well that’s the basic reason of course, but it’s mainly to let you feel just how uncomfortable it is to be wearing improperly ironed undies. Now do you understand?”
I licked my lips nervously. ”Not really Princess.”
“Well you can tell the difference between them and properly ironed ones
- surely?”
Before I could respond, she giggled. ”Oh, how stupid of me! You’ve never really worn properly ironed undies, have you? So how could you possibly tell? I can be so dopey at times!”
She giggled a little to herself for a moment then stood up. ”There, that’s enough. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll do your hair. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
It didn’t actually, but I wasn’t going to be so stupid as say something like that. In all honesty though, once she’d removed my hair band and had been brushing my hair for a few minutes, I did find it very relaxing. So much so that I got sleepier and sleepier.
In a real daze, I sleepily realized that she had stopped brushing my hair. I’d been feeling the soft touch of her fingers at my throat, behind my ears and, for some reason, at my wrists. Her touch was unusually cool, and a delightful fragrance seemed to be enveloping us. I found myself leaning more into her body, then her hands were tilting my face up towards her, and she was now touching my lips, gliding her finger smoothly across them, giving feather light little touches.
Then, I discovered that my mouth was sort of sticking together, and there was a ‘perfume’ taste on my tongue. I opened my eyes just in time to see Princesses face coming down onto mine, her eyes gleaming in a way I’d never seen before. Her hands were now behind my head, and she lifted me up until our lips met. We hadn’t kissed all that much, but this was far different than anything I’d ever felt before.
There was still an element of ‘stickiness’ between us, and the her scent seemed stronger somehow. Then, one of her hands left the back of my neck and started down my body, caressing me under the satin clothing. The next thing, I was up from the chair, and being led to the bed. On the way there, I had the realization what was going on. It was my perfume I was smelling. It was my lipstick that I was tasting, and I was being led to the bed like any young bride.
And we consummated our marriage there. I did have the male instrument, but I’m pretty sure it was used by her in the manner she wanted. I was simply there as a sort of living vibrator – with feminine trappings. I can’t say I minded though – it was glorious. We both came about the same time, then lay panting on top of the bed. I fell asleep almost immediately.
I awoke to find her lips on mine, her arm possessively around me. I snaked my arms around her neck and lifted my lips to kiss her. She climbed on top of me. Straddled me, looking down and grinning a soft seductive smile. Traced her fingertips down the underside of my arms.
“You’re nice and soft.. Know that? I should have you put on a pretty nighty last night. You’re so like a girl. Do you like being all soft and silky and sweet smelling? All submissive? I’ll have to get you a new name - Melissa? Priscilla? Margaret? Any of these you like?”
I couldn’t help it. Giggled, and the sound that I made was decidedly girlish, even to my ears. ”Oh c’mon Princess.” I then protested weakly. ”That’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair? What on earth are you talking about?” She said, but she was grinning.
“Well. It was you that made me wear these clothes. It was you that put the perfume on me…”
“Oh shush Priscilla!” She said a little impatiently. ”I’m only doing what you want me to do. Here’s an offer for you. I’ve decided that I’m going to put you over my knee and spank you on your panties. If you can stop me, I’ll never call you by a girl’s name again. I won’t force you to put on girl’s clothes, or makeup, or perfume. But I’m going to spank you. Do you know why?”
I shook my head, too frightened to speak.
“Because I’m stronger than you for one. Because I want to for two. Because you want me to as well. So fight me. Let’s see if you can stop me. Ok Priscilla?”
I felt a surge of pride rise in me. So she thought all these things, huh? I’d show her! I got to my feet and started to struggle as soon as she got off me.
Without the appearance of the slightest bit of effort, she closed with me. I saw our reflection in the mirrors around the room – and it closely resembled two girls wrestling, little squeals and gasps coming from each, but not for long. She had been right, she was much stronger than I was, and I found myself being forced back onto the bed. Soon after, she was sitting down again, with me on my back lying over her knees. Arms and legs weakly flailing I struggled, to absolutely no avail – she even took the time to caress me through the material of my undies and even adjusted one of the shoulder straps of my teddy while I writhed in complete futility underneath her. Then she kissed me firmly. ”Spanky time dear.” She whispered, and turned me over so that I was facing down.
Wriggling and writhing in my satin underclothes, I found myself gradually accepting her domination. Squealing and whimpering, I felt her body tense as she lifted her hand.
The spanking was a total surprise, consisting of a series of little ‘love taps’ on my posterior. Trembling in total humiliation and subjugation, I finally lay there, and tearfully admitted that the name Priscilla was to be her name for me while we were alone, and that I’d always answer to it – like the good little girl I was.
Finally, she let me up.
“Ok Priscilla. Need to get you fresh undies and pick out a dress for you to wear to the office. You’ll need to hurry and shower though. You’ve wasted a lot of my time with this nonsense of yours. Dorothy might get real mad if you’re late and she thinks it’s because you’ve been tarting yourself up.”
“Undies? A dress? Tarting myself up? Princess! What are you saying! You can’t mean it!” I stammered vehemently.
“Course I can, you silly little goose.” She argued. ”It’s about time you dressed properly for your job.”
“D-d-d-d-dressed?”
“Yes. You’re the office girl now, or hadn’t that struck you – least that’s how it looks to me. Doing what Alice tells you. Running little errands for the other girls. To my way of thinking, you may as well dress the part – and anyway, I want you to start dressing like a girl.”
“But they’ll think it’s me that wants to be dressing that way.”
“Well, they’re bloody stupid if they do. You’re my little girl from here on – and I want to be sure that everyone knows it! And anyway? If I want you to start dressing like a girl, aren’t you going to want that too? Just to please me?”
I knew it was hopeless. She was already laying out a new set of satin undies on top of the bed for me.
“Please Princess! Just one more day. Please?”
She paused, and I pressed some more. ”Honest. I’ll be good. Just one more day. I’ll put a dress on tomorrow. Please?”
She relented a little. “Well. Tell you what, let’s compromise. You’ll wear your undies to work, but you can put your regular clothes on over them..”
“Oh thank you Princess. Thank you.” I bubbled.
“I’m not finished yet!” She said sternly. “At lunchtime I want you to take Alice with you to Melissa’s boutique. There’s a sweater there that I think might look nice on you – a really pretty angora, yellow. I want you to go and try it on. Make sure that the sleeves come halfway down your forearm. If they don’t? Get the green one instead. Melissa will know what one I’m talking about. If they do? Buy it, then keep it on for the rest of the afternoon.
I gulped. ”Wear it back to the office? But Princess..”
“Or you can put on a dress now. Let me see ..”
I capitulated immediately. ”But I’ll need money Princess.”
“To buy the sweater? No. I’ve got a charge there. As a matter of fact, there’s a real pretty shorty nightgown and robe set in yellow. Buy that for yourself while you’re at it. You can wear them tomorrow night.”
I knew that my bra straps were easy to see under my shirt, but everybody in the office pretended not to see them, except Liz. She actually came and snapped my bra strap, then gazed a challenge at me until I dropped my eyes. I wasn’t too comfortable with the fact that my nylons showed between the gap at the bottom of my pants and the brown loafers of Marta’s that Princess made me wear – but no one made any comment with regard to that. There was one stroke of luck. I had been frightened of what Mummy would say, but she didn’t show up that morning.
When I asked Alice to come to Melissa’s boutique to help me buy a sweater, she was really pleased. It wasn’t too far from the office, so we just walked. It being lunchtime, there were quite a few women in the store, who gave me curious glances – that got even more penetrating when I had to try on the yellow angora sweater.
I don’t really know what I was expected to do. Princess had made it abundantly clear that I was to wear one of the sweaters back to the office, come what may. Stupidly, I tried to avoid looking as if I were buying it for me.
Melissa herself met us. A small dynamic woman, she had all the poise and self confidence of a successful entrepreneur, which she was.
“Ah!” She said, seeing Alice and I enter her shop. “You must be Missy? Princess’ husband?” She said this coming forward to shake my hand. I smiled back at her and introduced Alice. The two women smiled at each other.
“There’s a yellow sweater here that Princess is very keen on.” I said to Melissa. “Thought I’d pick it up…”
“Yellow sweater? Princess? She doesn’t… Oh! You mean the one for you?”
I reddened. Quickly she put a consoling arm on mine.
“Oh Missy! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to embarrass you. You just surprised me is all.” She said softly. ”I know the sweater you mean and the changing room is empty just now. I assume you want to try it on?”
What could I do? Meekly, I followed her through into another area, Alice tagging along, pointing out some of the lovely clothes on display. Melissa produced the sweater from nowhere. It was yellow. No doubt about it – a bright lemony shade, soft and feminine looking.
“It’s the sleeves that Princess is worried about..” I started.
“I know.” Melissa said. ”But I don’t know what she’s going on about. I’ve told her that they’re a modified dolman, and this size will have the sleeve length just where she wants it – halfway down the forearm. Just wait till you try it on – it’ll be dreamy on you. You’ll love it!”
She ushered us through into the fitting room which, as she’d said, was empty. Then she left Alice and me together. ”You might need a hand with these back fastening buttons. They’re pretty tight until you’ve worn it a couple of times.” She said as she left. ”Maybe your friend can help? While you’re doing that, I’ll get that nighty and robe set that Princess wants for you.”
I stood there, blushing. I knew that Alice was perfectly aware of my undies, but the taking off of my jacket and shirt just seemed impossible. She helped though. ”C’mon Missy. Better get it on. I don’t think you want to be changing and have some other lady come in, do you?”
I shook my head, and divested myself of my jacket and shirt. She held the sweater open for me as I dived into it as quickly as I could.
I have to admit that the angora felt wonderful over the satin material of my undies – it even felt good where it rubbed against the bare areas of my skin that it did come in contact with, though it was a little on the itchy side. The sleeves came down to the middle of my forearms, just as Princess had requested. This made me somewhat happier – at least I didn’t have to try on another sweater. Alice took some time with the small fasteners at the back. ”They’ve really made these loops for these buttons real tight. You’ll maybe have to have Princess help you get undressed tonight.” She giggled. ”But it feels so nice, you maybe won’t want to take it off, eh?”
The sweater was actually quite plain, apart from the fluffy look of the material. Fitted quite loosely and seemed to round my shape out considerably. Came down to about the hip level.
It was extremely feminine – and this wasn’t diminished when Melissa returned and ‘suggested’ that she fill in my bra cups with a little tissue. This completed, I was showing small, but unmistakably, feminine mounds.
I was sensually aroused by the feel of the sweater – and I was starting to realize that there was an underlying enjoyment of the intense humiliation I was undergoing in being effeminized. But more was to come.
“Think I’d better get back to the office.” I said , my mouth dry with excitement. ”Where’s my jacket?”
“Your jacket?” Melissa asked sharply. ”You’re not intending to wear that grungy jacket over your new sweater? Surely not?”
“I can’t go back to the office looking like this!” I said defensively.
“Well! We agree about that!” Melissa countered. ”Quick! Get these pants, garter belt and stockings off. I’ll get you a nice pair of pants that’ll go with that sweater just lovely – or would you rather wear a skirt? If you would, you can keep the garter belt and stockings on…”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, shaken. ”I’m not going to take my pants off..”
“You’re not walking out of here looking like that!” Melissa said in no uncertain tones.
“You want me to walk out of here in women’s pants?” I asked incredulously.
Melissa looked amazed. ”Missy? You’ve got satin teddies, panties, a bra, nylons, women’s shoes and, if my nose doesn’t deceive me, you’ve had perfume on within the last twenty four hours. These pants you have on are men’s pants. They do not go with the rest of your clothes. Not only that? They do not match your new sweater! You walk out of here like that over my dead body! Get these pants off!”
“But Melissa…” I began weakly, but was interrupted by Alice’s hand on my arm.
“Missy? She’s right. Why don’t you at least try the pants she’ll show you. If you don’t think they’re right… Well…”
“But Princess didn’t tell me to..”
“Trust me Missy!” Melissa broke in. ”She probably didn’t think about it. She’s one of my best customers. If I let you leave that way, she’d be really mad at me. I’d stake my life on it.”
“She doesn’t like pantyhose at all.” I said, trying to retain at least some measure of authority.
“Boy! Do I know that!” Melissa said. ”But as you can’t wear any kind of suspender belt under the pants I have in mind, I’ve got some nice thigh-highs you’ll like. Trust me, she won’t hassle you.”
I didn’t like the feeling of the thigh-highs but the pants were cream colored, smooth, soft, jersey type material that clung to my hips, then seemed to fall away quite gracefully. There was a suggestion of my undies showing, but not enough to worry about. I looked at the decidedly feminine man/woman who looked back at me from the mirror.
“That really is much nicer, Missy.” Alice whispered in my ear. ”She’s not just trying to sell you something.”
“Oh. Ok.” I capitulated. Then realized that the pants had no pockets. Stood helplessly patting myself on the rear-end.
“But my wallet Melissa? How am I going to carry..”
She held out a little clutch handbag towards me. ”Here Missy. A little present for being so good. I took the liberty of putting your wallet in there – and some complimentary cosmetics.” She looked at her watch as I took the small handbag from her hand.
“Sorry deary. Gotta run. You look really nice. Here’s your new nighty.” She handed me a paper carry-bag with the name of her store all over it. ”Hope you’ll come back. Princess is a good customer. Hope you won’t hold me making you..”
“Melissa?” Alice interrupted. ”I’m sorry. But would you have a hair tie?”
“Of course.” Melissa answered. ”But you don’t … Oh! I see!”
With that, she rummaged around in a drawer, then handed a yellow one over to Alice. She looked at her watch again. ”Sorry girls. Gotta run. Bye!”
I took a deep breath. Managed a shaky grin. ”Guess it’s time I faced the world, eh?”
“Well Missy? Why don’t you wear this hair tie? And maybe? Just a little bit lipstick?”
I looked at my friend, almost in tears. “You too?”
She sighed. ”Missy? You’re almost looking like a girl now. With the hair tie and a bit lipstick, nobody will give you a second look as we get back to the office. Honest! I’m not being mean. You do look like a girl now. The handbag helps, your sweater and pants help. But just a little more?”
We used the lipstick from my handbag that Melissa had given me – a sort of pale orange. Then, my pony tail fanned out a little, and tied with a piece of elasticized yellow ribbon – I wasn’t given a second look as we strolled back to the office, my carry bag advertising the fact that I shopped at Melissa’s boutique. I did shudder as we went in, but things weren’t too bad that afternoon – with one exception.
Dorothy – Mummy, I mean, came back to the office about two o’clock. She saw me and made an exaggerated reaction that everyone saw, though she said nothing at the time. A little while later, she came out of her office and cooing about how ‘nice’ I was beginning to look, put her arm around my shoulder and led me to a clear area of the office, calling out to all the girls that she had something to say. Once she had all their attention, she started.
“Isn’t Missy looking nice today, girls?”
Everybody grinned and various complimentary remarks came from all sides.
Mummy smiled, then looked serious. ”But there might possibly, just possibly, be a problem here, that just crossed my mind.”
I had no idea of what she was talking about, but knew that it, whatever ‘it’ was, was going to humiliate me some more. I couldn’t have been more correct – maybe I was starting to develop the so-called ‘feminine intuition’?
Mummy continued. “Now we have a ladies room and a gents room. Missy here has always used the gents – as was only right and proper. But now, other than him? The only other people who use it are customers, right? Now how do you think some man would feel if he was in there .. Doing whatever it is that men do, and Missy here came out of one of the stalls?”
The girls all laughed out loud. I heard someone say “Faint?”
“Zactly!” Mummy continued. ”Now. I don’t know about you, but I’d hate to lose a customer that way. Bad for business!”
There was a chorus of laughter and agreement.
“So what I was just thinking, if none of you had any major objection, maybe Missy should start using the ladies?”
The response wasn’t exactly enthusiastic, but there were no arguments either.
Mummy kissed me softly on the cheek. ”Wasn’t that nice of them Missy? Now you can be even more like one of the girls. Aren’t you going to say a nice thank you?”
Spinelessly I answered. ”Oh yes Mummy.” Then I turned to my co-workers. ”Thank you ladies” I said. And, at three o’clock, handbag in hand, I joined the ladies before the afternoon break. Alice worked on my hair as much as circumstance, and the lack of equipment would allow, then had me freshen my lipstick alongside Liz, who was using the mirror. When I left the office to go home, there wasn’t anybody I could think of who would take me for anything other than a (rather shy) young girl.
Remembering the trouble I’d got myself into the day before for loitering on my way home instead of hurrying to serve Princess, I didn’t make the same mistake. I was home much quicker.
As I let myself into the house, I heard the sound of women’s laughter, and someone saying “My god Princess, this place is huge! What do you have in mind for all these rooms – and are you thinking of getting a servant?”
“Not really..” I heard Princess say, as she and three young women about her age swept into the foyer.
“Oh hi sweetie!” She called out noticing me. ”My! You’re home early today. Come here and meet some of the ladies from the club. Sorry. I’d forgot to tell you it’s my turn to be hostess tonight.” Then she turned to the women. ”Girls? I’d like you to meet my husband, Missy?”
All three of them were very sophisticated looking in tailored suits and blouses, but almost all of them did comical double takes. One recovered quicker than the others. ”You did say ‘husband’ Princess?” Then she came forward and took my hand. ”Missy is it? A pleasure.”
“Oh yes. He demands that I call him that.” Princess said. ”He gave me a real lecture the other night. All about the responsibilities of husbands and wives – and all that junk.”
As the other two introduced themselves and shook my hand, one fingered the material of my sweater. ”My! Real angora! And such a pretty shade of yellow.”
“Oh, I like him in yellow.” Princess said, then spied the carry bag in my hand. ”Oh! And talking of yellow. Did you get that nighty and robe at Melissa’s?”
Without waiting for a reply, she dove into the bag and pulled out the shorty nighty, the matching robe – and the frilled panties.
“Ooh! That’ll be a killer shade on him too.” gushed one of the women. ”Maybe he could model it for us? Before the meeting starts?” She looked at her watch. ”We’ve still got ten minutes.”
Panicked, I watched Princess think for a second.
“Nah.” She said, shaking her head. “I need him for something else.”
I felt a major sigh of relief leave my lungs.
She turned her attention back to me. ”Sweetie? I’m sorry, but I don’t want you doing housework today. Ok? I just can’t have you running around underfoot.”
“Oh, all right Princess.” I said happily. ”Anything else? You said you needed me for something?”
She started shoving the nighty and stuff back into my bag. ”Yes. Well get this hung up in your closet – and put the panties in your lingerie drawer. Then I want you to go and have dinner with Marta.”
My face was flaming at the further evidence of my femininity in front of the grinning women, but I was still surprised.
“Marta?”
“Yes. Marta.”
“But..”
“You can keep her company. Then about eight o’clock, the caterers will be finished tidying away their stuff here, but I’ll need someone to serve drinks and after-dinner liqueurs, so I’ve asked her if she’d give you a hand.”
“Give me a hand?”
“Yes – or would you rather do it yourself?”
“Oh no.” I said blankly. ”I’d appreciate her help.”
“Fine!” Princess said. ”Run and do what I said. And Missy?”
“Yes Princess?”
“Ask her if one of her uniforms will fit you – it’ll be far more appropriate that way – can’t have my husband not dressed properly in front of my friends now, can I?”

Later that night, tired from all the emotional excitement of the day, I was sitting beside Princess. She wore a pretty coral robe over a slinky jade green nightdress. I was wearing my new nightgown, robe, and panties. One of her arms encircled me, the other lifted her balloon glass of brandy to her lips for an appreciative sip. I was lying back comfortably in her embrace, my head on her shoulder.
She put the glass back down on the table, then used her hand to turn my face towards her. Examined me. Smiled.
“Can’t believe how pretty you were when you came in with Marta. I mean, I could really understand why some of my friends wouldn’t believe you were my husband. But at the same time, I keep wondering why they can’t see how you just like to help around the house.”
“I don’t know Princess.” I said.
She kissed me. Giggled.
“I really like you in lipstick, Priscilla. Especially the nice red, wet looking stuff. It’s so nice when it’s not me that has to worry about smearing it. But to get back to what I was saying…When Marta brought you down I was kinda disappointed – I mean you just looked like a maid for god’s sake. Black dress uniform. White apron, white cap. Then I noticed your hair. Couldn’t believe it – all permed and curled under your little lace cap. Then the earrings! Did she hurt you when she pierced your ears dear, or were you a brave little girl?”
“I just cried a little bit.” I whispered.
“But you’re glad now, aren’t you?” Princess teased. ”Now you can wear all sorts of nice earrings – just like me. I’ll even lend you some of mine sometimes. Won’t that be fun?”
I snuggled into her, but she turned my face up and kissed me again, this time caressing me on the frilled area of the nightdress that covered my breasts, then running her fingers lightly down, over my tummy, to my straining erection.
“And Valerie? You know that redheaded friend of mine that ran her hand up your dress? I hope you know that I really told her off later on.”
She paused. ”Now don’t cry Priscilla. She was only teasing..”
“I know Princess, but lots of your friends did it. Snapping my panty elastic, snapping my bra strap…”
My face was turned up again.
“Lots of my friends? Which ones? Tell me, and I’ll talk to them about it.”
“Oh, it’s ok now. I guess.” I admitted.
“Well then. All’s well that ends well, eh? But why did Valerie say that your backside was so warm?”
My eyes filled up again. ”It wasn’t my fault. Honest! Marta said I’d spilled a drink, and it was one of the ladies. I told her it wasn’t me, but she just wouldn’t listen and I…” I came to a stop as Princess laid a finger across my lips.
“Hush now. Shhh. Go back to my question. What can you spilling a drink have to do with your backside being warm?”
I flushed beneath my makeup. “Marta took me into one of the spare bedrooms and spanked me for arguing.” A tear rolled down my cheek. ”It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t me!”
“Priscilla! Stop that! Maybe it wasn’t your fault. I believe you. Honest! But you can’t go around arguing with Marta. She’s trying to help you…”
“By spanking me? When it wasn’t my ..”
“Oh so that’s why your little ass was warm? I see now. Well, tomorrow, you just be sure to go to Marta and tell her that you’re sorry for having been such a bad girl. And I think you’d better offer to help her the next time Dorothy has somebody over. Don’t you think that’d be nice? You can put on one of your pretty uniforms and be a nice little maid again.”
I took a deep breath. ”But Princess? I’m not really a maid, am I? I mean, you even introduced me to your friends as your husband. You did mean that, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Of course sweetie. But it really is very handy for me to have someone who can be my maid at times – and we can’t be asking Dorothy if we can borrow Marta all the time now, can we? I mean, we’ve got to learn to stand on our own two feet now, don’t we?”
As she was asking me these questions, her fingers were beneath my chin, wagging my head up and down in agreement.
“So … My new bedroom? It’s just for a little while?” I asked tentatively.
“Of course it is. But don’t you see how handy it’ll be? That way you can get up and make breakfast in the morning without bothering me – and if I want you to come to bed at night? Well then, all I have to do is ring this little bell for you. Right?”
“Yes Princess. But I don’t like sleeping by myself.” I whimpered softly.
“Well I think that’s most ungrateful of you. You’ve got a room that any maid would be proud to have. Marta’s going to make you more pretty uniforms. You’ll need all sorts of clothes for work – and you’re not getting any of my closet space here. And one other thing. You’re not going to be sleeping alone that much.”
I smiled at her. ”Honest?”
She kissed me again. ”Well, I don’t care so much for having sex, but Dorothy is very interested in you. Wants to make you her girl. This way she can come visit you without bothering me.”
“But I’m your girl!” I protested, puzzled.
“Tut tut tut. How often must you be reminded? You’re my husband! Some would call you my sissy maid – but you’re a man to me. To Dorothy? You’ll be her girl! And if you don’t know the difference? I’ll bet she’ll be glad to show you. C’mere Priscilla. Let’s see how pretty a husband you can be.”
Her hand worked its way under my nighty and pulled my panties down. And it was then that I realized my life would be one of subservience to many women: my wife, her friends, her mother’s maid, the girls at the office… And I sighed as my dick stirred at the thought.

To sissify or not to sissify…

I believe I have shared some thoughts on the subject before, but as I see it is quite a big thing among a great many of my followers, I thought it might be worthwhile to return to the subject. 

To some sissification is a matter of great principle. One principle involved would be whether it is ultmately woman-unfriendly or anti-feminist to punish or humiliate a man by forcing him to wear feminine attire. Doing that would imply that women are in fact the inferior sex: how could wearing their clothes otherwise be viewed as a punishment or humiliation?

I don’t subscribe to that point of view, basically because I’m more pragmatic than philosophical: if a guy feels punished or humiliated by being made to wear a girl’s knickers, then it is an effective measure. And there’s no doubt that this measure is humiliating to any guy who is not craving it.

A major reason why I postponed putting my bf in any female attire had to do with the esthetics. I thought he’d look absolutely ridiculous and that watching him in that state would turn me off in a big way.

Then I started warning him that if he didn’t improve (whatever issue at hand) I would make him wear panties - or more. The look on his face was priceless and it worked wonders for his attitude towards his chores.

Until the effect started to wear off a little and… I made good on my promise.

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I couldn’t help giggling when he had his first pair of knickers on. And I loved his embarassed red face no end.

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Funny things is… after a few times I started to see things a little differently: I had to admit certain panties actually didn’t look bad on him at all.

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Right now I’m not so sure how to proceed. I guess I’m hesitant because now I’m not sure how far to take it, not sure if I’m ready find out exactly how much I like feminizing him…

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Thank You, Mistress!
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Thank You, Mistress!

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