Billie Jean
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The Perfect Hubby 2: Billy To Billie Jean free porn video
The Perfect Hubby 2: Billy to Billie Jean
By Sharon Masterman
Julie turned out to be right. A week later Billy came home
to find me wearing heavy makeup, the previously forbidden
5-inch heels, and a tight sweater and skirt. His excitement
was apparent. So was his fear. I towered over him in my
heels and scolded him as if he were a child. As I scolded
him there was a total change in his facial expression. He
was actually cringing, like a frightened little boy. So I
ordered him over my knee for a bare-bottomed spanking. I
was apprehensive, but much to my surprise he offered no
resistance as I lowered his trousers and draped him over my
knee.
It was exactly as Julie had said. Towering over him in
heels, I reminded him of the powerful women who dominated
him as a young boy -- his mother, his aunts, and his
teachers. They were big and strong, he was small and weak.
Their outfits -- tight sweaters and skirts, bullet bras,
low-cut, figure-hugging dresses, sky-high heels, heavy
makeup -- also turned him on. Dressed like them, I
triggered the same combination of fear and excitement he'd
experienced as a boy. And I had total control over him.
He was exquisitely vulnerable lying across my lap with his
cute ass fetchingly perched in the air. After administering
a light spanking, I picked up a hairbrush. Then I really
let him have it! I brought the back of the brush down on
his bottom over and over again. I loved the sound it made
as his ass turned pink and then bright crimson. Billy tried
to take it like a man. I could see him clenching his jaw,
but he was unable to keep it from trembling. Finally he
could no longer hold it in. He began to whimper and sob and
the tears started to flow. It made me so hot to see him
cry. Before long I'd broken his masculinity and he was
shamelessly sobbing and blubbering like a little boy and
promising to do whatever I said. Still, I couldn't stop. I
hit him again and again -- and it made me come. What a
rush! It was great -- having so much power over a man! I
loved it! And I knew there was no turning back.
Billy was so ashamed of crying and blubbering like a child
in front of his wife, he couldn't look me in the eye. I
told him to stand in a corner, while I fixed myself a drink
and he submissively obeyed. I took a couple of sips and
made myself comfortable in a chair. I looked at his bright
red ass and admired my handiwork -- it must have really
stung! Then I ordered him to crawl over to me on his hands
and knees and put his head in my lap. The broken man
continued to sob and whimper as I comforted him and dried
his tears with a perfumed hankie.
"Real men," I said as I gently rubbed his cheek and
caressed his neck, "don't cry and blubber like sissies,
like little girls. So I can't think of you as a man
anymore. But it doesn't matter, sweetie. You don't have to
try to be a man for me. You were never much of a man
anyway. You're too small and slender for a man -- too small
where it counts. I still love you, though. But not as a
man.
"From now on things are going to be different between you
and me. We're going to have a traditional marriage and
you're going to be the wife -- a male/wife. Notice I said
'male', not 'man'. There's a difference. You may be a male.
But you're not -- and never will be -- a man. Men don't
weep and sob like little girls. And they don't have dicks
as small as yours. You're not only a male wife -- you're a
sissy male/wife!
"From now on you're going to do everything I say, including
dressing and serving as my maid. You'll do all the cooking,
cleaning, washing, and ironing, and you'll turn your entire
paycheck over to me. You're no longer in charge of our
marriage. I am."
I put my fingers under his chin and lifted it so he was
looking into my eyes. His lips were trembling as he tried
to hold back the tears. I gave him an icy stare.
"Do you understand?" I asked. "Do you want to become my
male/wife?"
"Yes," he softly said.
"Yes, what?" I asked with clenched teeth. "Say it!"
"Yes, I want to become your male/wife," the broken man
sobbed.
Then I drew him to my bosom and gave him a warm, reassuring
hug. I smiled to myself as my tearful hubby collapsed in my
arms and whimpered and wept and promised to be good. It
satisfied a deep yearning in me -- a maternal yearning.
You see, Billy can't give me children. I knew that when I
married him. Still I have maternal instincts. I long to
mother and love someone who really needs me -- someone
who's helpless and dependent, who needs to be disciplined
and told what to do, who worships and adores me, who
desperately wants to please me, and who will do anything
for maternal affection and approval. So if Billy can't give
me a child to discipline and love-- if he can't satisfy my
maternal needs as a man -- he'll do so as a little boy. And
I'll be his loving, domineering "mommy."
The next few nights I followed Julie's advice and teased
him in bed about his "petite" penis. I told him it was too
small to have hair and made him shave it all off. Now it
really looked like a little boy's dick. I also told him he
didn't measure up to other men I'd known and that he'd
never really satisfied me in bed. This made it shrivel up
even smaller. He was so totally defenseless -- so
completely under my power. "Mental castration" Julie called
it. I loved it! Being able to do this to a man, especially
one who had hurt and betrayed me in the past, was
intoxicating. It gave me a rush, got me hot.
After this it was easy to get him to play dress up in my
clothes. He seemed relieved at no longer having to live up
to a masculine ideal. I sensed his pleasure when I told him
how pretty he looked in bras, garter belts, nylons, and
heels and that I loved him for being so girlish and sweet.
Then I seductively stroked his stocking-sheathed thighs,
stimulated his sensitive nipples, and fondled his panty-
clad penis.
I like the idea of feminizing a boy. If I had a son, I'd
severely spank him for being rough and aggressive. Then I'd
take him to my closet and encourage him to play dress up.
I'd want him to get in touch with his feminine side and I'd
be very loving when he did. So I was never nicer to Billy -
- never more affectionate and approving -- than when he was
playing dress up in my pretty clothes and practicing a
number of ultra-feminine gestures and mannerisms.
Towering over him in 5-inch heels, I then took my sissy
hubby shopping for bras, garter belts, nylons, heels and
other pretty frillies of his own. We were like mother and
son -- sissy son! The salesgirls could hardly contain their
giggles as I spoke to him as if he were a child and made no
attempt to disguise the fact that the clothing I was
selecting were for him. When it was time to pay for the
pretty things I'd selected, I left him standing at the
sales counter to do so himself, for all the women in to
store to look and stare at. And in a matter of months, he
was completely sissified.
Now, instead of hitting the singles bars on Friday nights,
my male/wife changes into a cute little maid's outfit and
fixes me a glorious gourmet dinner. He serves it to me,
course by course, in the candlelit dining room. He himself
eats in the kitchen. After cleaning up and doing the
dishes, he is permitted to join me. Sometimes he polishes
my nails and brushes my hair. Other times he sits at my
feet as I watch TV and worships my powerful spike heels.
The 5- and 6-inch sharp stiletto heels that I constantly
wear in his presence symbolize feminine power and
authority. They make me much taller than he is. They're
longer and stronger than his cock. And they're sharp enough
to cut it off. He's afraid of them and the feminine power
and authority that they represent. They also turn him on.
So he sits at my feet and submissively kisses, licks, and
sucks each of my 6-inch heels as if it were a dick. I love
watching my powerful spike heel penetrate his pursed and
painted lips. It gets me so hot! I feel like I'm fucking
him -- fucking his sissy mouth!
Later, my male/wife changes into a sexy baby doll nightie
and performs all and only those submissive acts of love my
heart desires. His release, when I permit it, is always
secondary to mine.
Saturday mornings he does laundry and housework. I enjoy
watching him hand wash my delicate nylons and lingerie. And
I like the idea of a sissy hubby ironing his wife's
clothes. Later I dress him in a woman's top and slacks and
sandals. I add a pair of tiny earrings, lip gloss, a touch
of mascara, a woman's watch, and a unisex shoulder bag in
which I've placed a compact, lipstick, girlish billfold,
and a pack of Virginia Slims. Then I put on one of my many
new pairs of 5-inch spike heels so I'm a lot taller than he
is and we go to the mall.
It's a real treat having a sissy hubby who shares your
interests in fashion, hairstyles, and makeup and who never
complains about spending hours shopping for makeup,
jewelry, and pretty clothes. Sometimes we meet Julie and
Marc at a Victorian tea shoppe frequented by women. There
we add to the din of girl talk while sipping tea and
munching on little cakes and sandwiches. "Billie Jean" and
"Marcie" are so cute -- daintily holding their teacups and
girlishly chattering away, exchanging recipes and
housekeeping tips as Julie and I smile with approval.
Julie was right. Turning Billy into Billie Jean saved my
marriage. It's great having a male/wife. Every woman should
be married to a submissive male who dresses and acts like a
traditional wife. Before I thought I was lucky when Billy
did some of the cooking, laundry, and housework. Now he
does it all!
To be continued
Marisol
- 26.01.2022
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