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.
"Just give a holler if you want her to see!" My bride blew a kiss to me and pushed the door to the nearly closed position.
Antonia and Linda greeted each other with squeals and embraces. Their forms moved past, retreating to the kitchen, where I knew they would unpack and discuss their book finds. My heart hammered in my chest as the women passed within a meter of me.
Alone with my thoughts, I considered how I had gotten into this predicament. A grown ass man, captured and feminized. A silky headscarf, earrings, microfoam tape sealing my mouth. Not to mention three pairs of wet panties stuffed in my trap. My wrists and throat secured to the closet bar.
I'm sure I looked whorish in the tight sweater. I looked ridiculous in a tight panty girdle barely hiding my fat erection and displaying a damp stain. My ladylike skirt pooled around my shackled feet, bands of rope securing my knees. If discovered, what would Antonia say? I resolved to stay perfectly motionless.
In my isolation, deprived of speech and touch, other senses took over. The smell of fresh brewed coffee drifted in. I caught a few words here and there as they caught up on one another's lives.
Linda's voice: "Now you sit there on the couch, you can set your cup on the side table."
Through my allotted door crack I could see my wife resettle in the chair. I could see the back of her companion's head. My wife's friend and I had never hit it off. She was pretty but not as beautiful as my bride.
They resumed their chat about old friends, moving on to TV shows, then recent restaurant outings. I tried to slide my head to one side, but her infernal scarf tie prevented much movement.
"May I ask a personal question?" Linda asked. "You always look so put together. I have an unusual problem. I'm looking for a bra."
Antonia didn't seem too startled by this. "OK, and...?"
"It's just that I found a dress, and it's cut with a fair bit of cleavage. I really like the dress, but I just don't have the right item to wear under it." I watched my wife scoot forward in her chair, then cup the sides of her boobs. "You know, something to lift, but that's bare on the top?"
Now Antonia did seem a bit taken aback. "I see." Little did she know Linda was putting on this show for my benefit!
Together they discussed different brands, laughing at those favored by their mothers and aunties. I wondered what "old lady" brands I was currently modeling.
Linda said, "Did you hear something?" They both stopped dead in their tracks. I didn't move a muscle, panicked that she would turn me out.
"I guess it was nothing," she continued. "This house is always making noises." My queen, indeed.
After a while, their mugs empty, Antonia made to go. She collected her bags from the kitchen, and I heard them approaching the adjacent front door.
BAM! Like a shot, the closet door slammed shut, plunging me into blackness.
"Door is always coming open," I heard her murmur as she walked her friend out.
They lingered on the front porch, saying their goodbyes. I heard my wife come back in the house, then deadbolt the front door. She opened the door to my narrow cell.
"Was that exciting for you, silly? Oh my," she rushed to me. "Your face is so red and hot." She loosened the scarf at my neck and I flexed my head. She made to pull at the tape sealing my lips, but I shook her off.
Linda reached over to the couch for a small square pillow. She knelt on it, unwrapping my bound knees.
"You don't seem as thrilled by this as I was," she offered. "The whole time, having you as a gurl tied up just meters away from her. I kept watching that door, thinking you were going to push it open with a foot or something."
She looked up at me.
"I think I crossed a line. I'm sorry. I can make it up to you, though," and she skimmed her hands across the front of my girdle. In moments she had restored my raging erection.
From her pillow perch, she tugged down my constraining undergarment. My dick popped up almost in her face.
"You're gushing," she said, licking the precum cream. I froze, her tongue on my engorged head feeling incredible. She smiled up at me, arranging herself on the pillow, then proceeded to lick the underside from head back to my tightened balls. She fisted my cock, then took me deep down her throat. She came up gagging. "That's more proof you like this; I've never had you this huge before."
I can see this mental video playing out: An Amazonian figure with a sizeable chest in a tight sweater. A silky headscarf and microfoam tape cutting off all speech. The damsel's wrists secured to the closet bar, alongside her head. A skirt puddled at her feet, the pinkish girdle tugged down to her knees. And my wife's hot mouth hungrily working a swollen engorged cock.
She applied herself with vigor, moaning and making the wet slurping noises that she knows drives me wild. Her hands on my bare ass, her head bobbing furiously up and down on my joint. I felt the charge building in my balls and fought to delay my release. With my own moaning, I signaled her that I was close. She came off my dick, massaged it... and I shot a wad of cum. She caught it across her forehead and nose, then reengaged with my cock as I pumped more load into her hot willing mouth.
She wiped her face with the discarded scarf, then set about setting me free. Once a month, we play this gender bending game. It's a strange game -- one where we both come up winners.
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Likes or Constructive Comments are welcome
Also see rounds 1 and 2 which are in my profile.
And this fun.
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https://roscaizquierda.diariolibre.com/2018/11/18/19-11-2018/
https://dzone.com/articles/top-10-web-development-trends-to-follow-in-2019
https://www.doyoubuzz.com/levi-gowlland
https://donorbox.org/rodney-godwin
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