Monday, April 6, 2020

Your wife craves a strong man, craves leadership, rules, discipline. Luckily he provides what you cannot.

Milana Kruz

Sure wearing stockings everyday is work, but it's totally worth it.

Mood = Feminized and Frustrated

Source | kamamithyacara

"A" for effort

"W...well," he nervously asked his wife, seeing her look at him with a critical eye.

She tapped her toe on the ground, looking at him closely, examining from head to toe. "Your bra needs to be filled, your garter straps need to be straightened, and our stocking tops are untidy. But your hair and makeup are acceptable and, thank god, I don't see a trace of your penis. So you get an A for effort, but a C for execution."

"So..." he swallowed.

"You'll get better with practice," she said.

"Practice? I...I have to do this again?"

"Dear, feminization isn't a game, I told you that, this is my expectation going forward."


Proper foundation garments provide the, um, foundation for feminization.

Saturday, April 4, 2020


She strokes her husband to encourage him, to give him direction, to help guide his tongue into every fold and crevice of her pussy, to lick up every drop of cum her lover left inside her.

When he's done, after he's cleaned her, brought her to orgasm after orgasm, she'll stop, wait for him to shrink, and lock him back in his cage, his release denied.

The licking is is pleasure, not orgasm of his own.

The stroking is his pleasure, not release of his own.

Orgasms are for her alone, his pleasure is her pleasure.

Waiting nervously on the bed, you hear him enter the room, sense him standing behind you, watching, waiting.

He takes his time, time is his to control, not yours; you're simply to wait, looking forward or down, forbidden to look back at him.

You hear him make a drink and as every minute drags on you feel nerves and doubt.

Was this a mistake? Was meeting him in hotel room going too far?

"Such a beautiful ass," he says, speaking his first words.

Immediately your tucked sissy clit is trying to swell, pushing against the tight panties.

You hear him unbuckle his belt, pull it quickly from its loops. "Face on the bed," he says, "ass higher."

"Please," you beg softly, even as you knew this would happen.

"Please what, sissy?" he asks with a chuckle, "touch you, spank you, fuck you?"

"All of it," you whisper, "all of it."

Friday, April 3, 2020

Bride Take 2

"Hands behind your back," he ordered my wife, pleased how the pose pushed her breasts forward.

"Like this, Sir?" I heard her ask.

"Perfect," he said, unbuttoning his pants. "You'll use just your mouth."

"Yes, Sir," she said and I saw the look in her eyes, a mixture of nerves and excitement.

He laughed. "Didn't do that last time your wore that did you?"

She swallowed, glanced over at me, obviously embarrassed. "I...I was...I was a virgin...we didn't..."

"The innocent bride. Didn't do nasty things like suck cock, did you?"

", Sir," she answered.

"Have you ever? Taken him in your mouth?" 

She looked at me again, shook her head no.

"I'm not him, Angela, I expect my woman to suck my cock, whenever I want, however I want. I expect her to suck it like it's the only thing in the world, the only thing that matters to her, are we clear?"

"Y...yes, Sir," she said, tongue wetting her lips, surprising both of us.

"I assume you've never swallowed cum?"

Her eyes went wide. "No, Sir," she said.

He looked over at me, smiled. "That changes today, too."

"I..." I started to say, stopped by his glare.

"You can be a good girl at home, you should be a good girl at home. But not with me, never with me."

I know what most of you are thinking cause I'm thinking it too.

He came into their marriage like a hurricane, strong, powerful, changing everything.

He wasn't interested in merely sleeping with the wife, he wanted more, demanded more.

Not just helping the wife discover her inner slut, her need to submit, but the husband's too.

First emasculating the husband by establishing that he was the Alpha Male, not the husband.

Then taking it further, feminizing the husband as well.

Now it was the ultimate demonstration of their respective places.

Holding the sissy's head just beyond reach of his erect cock, he watches the wife approach.

Knowing it will never be as it was before, cannot be.

Once a woman sees her husband feminized...

Once she sees him suck cock...

Once she takes him from behind...

Never the same.


You don't have to start with dresses and skirts at the office, sissy, try a pretty blouse instead.

What cuckold sissy doesn't dream of being given to him to use for a night?


"It's been thirty days," she said after dinner.

"I...I know," I said anxiously.

"Well, go on, go get it."

I swallowed nervously. "I thought...maybe...could you get the key instead?"

"Unlock you?" she asked dubious. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"It's been months," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady, knowing if I sounded like I was complaining would only harden her.

"It has," she said.

Was that a note of compassion in her voice? I started to smile, stopped it before it formed. "So?" I finally asked.

"I said go get it," she said, obviously meaning her strap on, obviously meaning to milk me for my monthly release.

"M...Mistress," I said, both a plea and acknowledgment at the same time.

"It's not a game," she said, "you've squirted two months in a row, there's no reason to do it any other way from now on."

"I...I like the other way," I said playfully.

"Of course you did," she said, using past tense. "Are you implying you dislike the new way?"

"No...not at all," I quickly said, afraid she'd forgo everything.

"Then get it. I won't ask again." 

Sissy's Morning Ritual

Remember the bygone days when morning started with boxer shorts and a tee shirt?

Days gone, forever gone.

Thursday, April 2, 2020


I saw her looking at me, harness in her eyes, I wanted to cover up, but knew that would only make things worse.

“Your stocking top are not straight,” she glared.

“I…I’m sorry, Ma’am,” I said, swallowing on that last word, still not used to referring to my wife in that manner.

“It’s not difficult,” she said.

“I’ll do better,” I promised.

The corners of her mouth turned down, a sure sign she was more than annoyed, that she was angry. “And that?” she pointed.

“I…I wasn’t finished dressing,” I said, the same defense to my stockings. “I…I didn’t think you’d…that you’d be home so soon.”

“As if that’s an excuse,” she sneered. “I don’t recall a ‘Mistress isn’t home so I can swell’ exception. Did I miss that?”

“N…no, Ma’am,” I said looking down.

She said nothing, just glared. Finally spoke. “Get the cage,” she said.

“Ma’am, please, I…I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, there’s an ‘I didn’t mean to’ exception?”

“No, Ma’am,” I said.

“What’s the rule?”

“No…no erections without permission.”

“No erections without permission,” she repeated. “And did you have permission?”

“No, Ma’am,” I said softly, as if I ever got permission anymore.

“And the consequence?”

“Ch…chastity,” I said in a whisper.

“It’s a simple rule with a simple, natural consequence. How long has it been like that?” she demanded. “And no lying.”

“Please,” I begged.

“How long?” she glared at me.

“I…I don’t know,” I stammered.

“Well I’ve been gone an hour, should I assume the entire time?”

“No!” I almost shouted, tried again, “no. T…ten minutes, I swear,” I said. I was terrified, the rule was a week in chastity for every minute. A week in chastity for every minute I was erect.

“If you’re lying, pet, I’ll double it.”

“I’m not, I swear,” I said. “Ten minutes, just…just since I started getting dressed.”

She looked at me, at my improperly adjusted stockings and I saw she believed me.

“Well it’s eleven minutes now,” she looked at her watch. “Get an ice pack and the cage.”

I hurried out of the room, did as instructed, getting the ice first so I was soft when I came back two minutes later. “Thirteen minutes, then,” she said looking at her watch again. “Three months, into summer then.”

Three months would be the longest I’d been locked to date and I knew I’d do every week, every day, every minute.

TBH, there's nothing like a dominant man to take charge of you and your wife.


He was reluctant for years, trying to maintain the illusion he was completely heterosexual.

But once he accepted his true nature, once he accepted he was a sissy, he fully embraced it.


"What time does he expect you home?" your wife's lover asked her breathlessly.

"Morning," she said pressing into him.

"Morning?" he asked surprised. "You're spending the night?" She'd never done that before.

"If you'll have me," she said as if there was any question.

"He's okay with that?" he asked.

"He's reluctant," she said, "but it's time and he's going to have to learn. He always knew that."

"You're naughty," he chuckled lifting her leg, press against her.

"Only for you," she said. "Only for you."


Not me (I don't post pictures of Emily or me), but a good approximation of how passable I can look. 

Doutzen Kroes Smolders in Hunkemoller Lingerie Campaign

Wednesday, April 1, 2020


Seeing her husband dressed so pretty in black lingerie and stockings, his little penis secure in its cage, she never felt so turned on.


First surrendered your marital monogamy to him, when he got involved in your lives.

Then you surrendered "regular" sex to him as he insisted that was his exclusive domain.

Next you surrendered your masculinity to him, becoming always feminine.

Following that you surrendered your control to him, taking your places as the servant.

But he wanted more, sissy, he wanted more.

Because finally, you surrendered you sexuality to him, allowed to grow erect no more, allowed to touch yourself no more.


Married women who aren't sure don't go to a man's hotel room wearing lingerie like this.