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PANTS By Missy I finally worked up enough courage to approach her at the gym. I had seen her there often, and you could tell she was serious about keeping fit. Tall, about 5'10", she has short blonde hair, a well- proportioned body, and an absolutely beautiful face. Her eyes were a dark green, and she had a way of staring at you that made you flustered. After rehearsing my approach for weeks, I worked my way through the machines until I was standing behind her, as if I was waiting for that machine. I started some small talk, and she cheerfully responded, melting me with her eyes. Her name was Carrie, and I introduced myself as Allen. I remained with her, as we continued to work the circuit of exercise machines, and steeling myself, I was about to ask her if she wanted to get something to eat, or maybe some juice after our workout. Before I could, she asked, "Would you like to join me for dinner sometime?" I was so stunned and happy that I could barely agree without stumbling over my words. She smiled and continued, "It can't be tonight, but how about Thursday? I'll meet you at the Copper Cellar." Although it was a very expensive place, I quickly agreed and we left to go shower and change. After that, the week dragged by, it seemed like Thursday would never arrive. Finally, the time was here and I went to meet her. She was standing at the door, dressed in a silky black pantsuit and looked gorgeous. Generally I like women in skirts, but she was so pretty it didn't matter about her clothes. She took my hand and we went to our table. As we chitchatted and looked at the menu, the waiter arrived, and without even asking she ordered our drinks, a glass of white wine and some scotch on the rocks. Although I'm not a big fan of scotch, I liked how she wanted to please me. That cheerful thought passed quickly, when the waiter brought the drinks, Carrie took the whiskey and had the waiter give me the wine. Her only explanation was that she didn't like her dates to drink hard liquors. The rest of the meal went the same way. She ordered a Caesar salad, for me as it turned out, and a steak for herself. Every decision was made by her, without my consultation. Finally, I had to ask, "Carrie, why are you making my choices for me? I mean it's nice that you want to do these things for me, but ever since we met at the gym, you've been directing the show." A little grin crossed her face, and she looked at me intensely, eye- to-eye, pausing for effect. "Well I must admit that I'm a take charge kind of person. I'm not happy unless I'm calling the shots. I've always been that way. Moreover, at restaurants, a waiter won't give the woman the check, unless she demonstrates that she's the lead partner, so to speak. And I always pay for everything when I go out with a man. That way if there is any expected payoff afterwards, it's my call. Do you think you can adjust to that? If you can't then I don't think we need to go any further with this relationship." I was taken aback. Carrie was obviously a lot more direct than I had expected, but for some reason, it didn't seem to matter. I considered myself a supporter of feminism and liberal enough to adjust to an aggressive woman. Besides, Carrie was the most beautiful woman I had ever dated, and I wasn't going to mess it up, just because she wanted to pay for dinners. "I can adjust, Carrie, it is just that you took me by surprise. It's not every day that you meet a woman who wants to take the lead in everything." Getting the answer she wanted Carrie reached over and took my hand. "Allen, I'm glad you agree. I find you very attractive and would hate not to get to know you better. Just be sure you can accept that I'll wear the pants in our relationship; because, I expect you to follow my lead when we're together. Every couple has a leader and a follower, and I'm definitely the boss of whomever I date. I will definitely wear the pants and make the decisions, and I won't tolerate a lot of whining over my choices. I expect you to submit to my leadership. Is that clear?" Again, the tenor of her voice and the bluntness of words made me hesitate, but only a second. For some reason, I couldn't look at those mesmerizing eyes, and glanced down at the table as I answered, "Yes dear, I understand and agree." Smiling broadly, Carrie reached her hand out, lifted up my chin, and kissed me deeply. "That's more like it. Allen, I was sure you'd see it my way." After that dinner, we went out several times a week. Carrie always drove, picked me up, chose where we would go and what we would do, and paid for everything. It was obvious that being in charge was second nature to her. That also explained why she was so successful in her law practice. She was driven to compete and win. Her work also kept us from seeing each other every day, so that when she called to ask me out, it was always an unexpected and pleasant surprise. Even though we had been dating for nearly a month, our intimate relations had been limited to heavy kissing and some light groping. Although this was frustrating for me, I knew that she would have to decide when it was right to go further; after all it was her place to make the decisions. In fact, I think she had deliberately delayed sex between us, just to be sure that I would accept her dominance in all aspects of our relationship. Finally she called me late one evening, "Allen, how about we have dinner at my place on Friday? I've just finished several cases, and I'm taking a little break from my demanding schedule. Perhaps we could see each other all weekend." I happily agreed, and could hardly wait till the next evening. Arriving at her townhouse, I expectantly knocked on the door. Smiling as she opened the door, she quickly kissed me and pulled me inside. "I'm so glad you could come, I hope you know how special this is. I rarely ask a man to my house, and then only if he's shown me that he's comfortable with me in the lead role." Glancing down from those laser eyes, I replied softly, "I'm glad I've made you happy. You've treated me so well, and made me feel special that I'd do whatever you asked." That response seemed to be just what she wanted to hear, for she took me in her arms and gave me a deep kiss. As it ended, Carrie's eyes locked on to mine. "Allen, do you remember our first date, when I explained how I expected you to agree with my decisions?" "Yes, I do. You made it pretty clear how you felt about our roles in the relationship." Smiling again, she continued, "Well you've demonstrated a mental willingness to let me take the lead, but now I want a further expression from you of your submission to me. I expect you to agree to a true demonstration of our relationship. As I told you that first night, I will be the one who wears the pants and you agreed. Do you still agree?" Again, I nodded my head. That seemed to satisfy her, and she stepped back to a side table in the hall and picked up a short black skirt. "Well if I'm wearing the pants, then that means you don't. So I want you to slip this on for me." This took me totally off guard. "Carrie you don't really expect me to wear a skirt do you? I mean I'm more than willing to let you be in control, but that doesn't mean I'll wear that. I thought you were just saying you wore the pants as an expression, not as literal fact." I was more than a little unnerved by this turn of events. I was hoping this evening would be the night we made love, not the night I further submitted to her obsession for control. Looking at me intently, Carrie responded, "Now Allen don't get upset, this skirt is just a symbol of how much you care for me. If you want to take our relationship to a more personal level, then you'll just have to do this for me for tonight. I need to know that you are totally agreeable to me being in charge and what better way than for you to relinquish your pants. I know men get all wrapped up in their masculinity and feel threatened by feminine control. But this is just for me, it will be our secret. What it will represent is your commitment to us and to me. I can't believe you really would end everything over a silly little piece of clothing." Stepping closer to me, she kissed me again, and then held the skirt to my hips. "I'm sure it would fit. I'm quite good at guessing sizes. Now be a dear, and take it." I didn't know what to do. Carrie was threatening my very manhood; I mean what man wears a skirt? But I also knew in my heart, that whatever I had with her would be over if I didn't take it. And I had been very happy these last few weeks, being in her company was intoxicating. This wasn't fair. For a month I didn't have to make a decision, in fact couldn't make one if I wanted to. Now it was up to me to make a choice, submit further to her or end it. Looking at her face, I knew I would just have to do it. I really didn't want to stop seeing her. Besides it was only for one evening. I could make it through a little embarrassment to be with her. Reaching out, I took the skirt from her hands. That was all it took, the cross look that had filled her face was gone. "Oh Allen, I knew you really cared for me. Just go into the bath and slip this on. I've laid out a few accessories on the vanity to go with it. And hurry up; we still have dinner to fix." As I headed toward the bathroom, I felt I would regret this later, but I had no choice. That decision had been made by Carrie, and I would just have to adjust to it. Inside the bath, I looked at the vanity. Laid out there were white tights, lace panties, and black pumps with short heels. This was even worse. Not only was I to wear a woman's skirt, but also lingerie and shoes. Swallowing hard, I just went ahead. It didn't take long to remove my pants and underwear and slip into Carrie's symbol of my submission. Everything fit well enough, and my oxford shirt didn't look too out of place, but looking at me in the mirror, it was hard to believe I was really doing this. I slowly walked out of the room and down the hall to see Carrie. The click, click, click of the heels on the wooden floor announced my presence, and Carrie called out to me, "Come on in the kitchen Allen, and let me see how you look." As I entered the kitchen, she beamed and made me turn around. "Oh that fits perfectly. You look just adorable and your legs are very pretty. I knew from the shorts you wore at the gym that with heels your legs would look absolutely stunning. I wish you were used to wearing heels, and then we could get you some shoes with a higher heel. That would really put a pretty curve to your legs." All I could do was blush. This was the most embarrassing moment of my life. Standing before the woman I loved, the most beautiful woman I had ever known, and all she wanted to talk about was how pretty my legs looked in my skirt and heels. "Now enough about my pretty boy, let's get started on dinner. You've got to protect your skirt, so reach in that drawer and pick out an apron." As she finished, Carrie pointed toward a sideboard in the kitchen. It was then that I noticed she had slipped on an unbleached natural linen, unisex, bib apron over her gray suit. She was chopping some onions and peppers on a small cutting board. I pulled open the drawer and started looking for an apron similar to the one Carrie wore. But all I could see were pinafore style with ruffled edges around the skirt and shoulder straps. "Go on honey, take one. They're all alike. I bought mediums, so they should fit you just as perfectly as your skirt." She grinned and wiped her hands off with a dish towel. I reluctantly took an apron and slipped my arms through the holes. Carrie reached over and turned me around, quickly tightening up the apron strings into a big bow. "There that should do you. I've got all the vegetables cut up, and the recipe is on the counter. If you don't mind, I'm going to go upstairs and put on something more comfortable than this power suit." She slipped her apron off, showed me where the pots and pans were, and then went upstairs to change. I started in on the recipe, a simple pasta and chicken casserole, but couldn't help but feel foolish. There I was in an apron, skirt, stockings and heels, busily cooking away in my girlfriend's kitchen. This is not how I had pictured my evening going. I had mistakenly thought Carrie might cook me dinner, as she had invited me over. I heard her return downstairs, but rather than entering the kitchen she walked down the hall to another room. Again I was dismayed. Not only did Carrie have me cooking, in women's dress no less, but now she wasn't helping. I leaned into the hall, and asked. "Anything you need down there?" I thought this would embarrass her into returning. To my surprise, she answered, "Why a drink would be nice. The Scotch is in the cabinet next to the refrigerator. I think you know how I like it." Burning with this unexpected rebuff, I made the drink, and quickly walked down the hall intent on getting her back in the kitchen. As I entered the room, an airy open living room, Carrie sitting in a big leather armchair, looked up, smiled and spoke, "How's it going? It's so nice to hear you working in there." As she took the drink, she continued, "A woman could get used to this." I couldn't take it any longer and spoke up. "Aren't you going to help me finish? I don't see why I should do everything." Sipping her drink, Carrie looked at me calmly. "Now don't get so upset, you probably have the food just about prepared, it is a simple recipe. And setting the table won't take long. The dishes and silverware are right in the hutch next to the dining room table. Besides, there is a reason you are in the skirt and that frilly apron. You've admitted that I wear the pants in our relationship. I make the decisions here, and you obey me. If I help you now, it would just take you longer to adjust to your responsibilities. Your role is to do as I ask, and let me provide for you. I can't see how you can expect me to do women's work and remain in a position of control. They are just not compatible. For you however, cooking, cleaning, and serving me is a demonstration of your love. When we go out, I take care of everything. I plan our evenings, make the decisions, and cover the expenses. That is a demonstration of my love for you. Those responsibilities come with the 'pants'. Your responsibilities are associated with that skirt. Some nights I'll do the work. Some nights you'll do it. The point is we each have our role, and I guess if you can't accept doing something for me around the house, then we need to reassess our relationship. Do you want to leave or would you rather finish your work in the kitchen?" As I was not ready to give up on her, I sheepishly replied, "I'll go finish supper." Carrie smiled broadly, and went back to reading her paper as I went back to the kitchen. I was totally confused now. Had I agreed to all this by relinquishing my pants? Was it really that unreasonable for her to expect me to do domestic tasks for her? I know I had certainly expected it from my former girlfriends; Carrie had put it in perspective early on when she said one reason she had made the decisions on our first date was that she liked to control the payoffs that resulted from the assumptions of financial responsibilities. When I had paid the way for my girlfriends, I had assumed they would reciprocate with favors, both sexual and household. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, was it really unfair for Carrie to expect me to do the same? My actions answered that question; I finished cooking and set the table. I also decided I needed to apologize. Carrie had done a lot for me the past month, really courting me like a man courts a woman. It was wrong for her not to expect me to do some things for her. It was just that it felt so unnatural to be in the submissive role. I went into the den, and cheerfully announced, "Supper is ready, I hope you're hungry." Carrie looked up and said, "You seem to be in a better mood already." Smiling slightly, I looked down. "I'm sorry Carrie. I shouldn't have lashed out at you earlier. It was wrong of me to be so sensitive about cooking for you; I certainly owe you after all the dinners you treated me to. I guess I just felt threatened by relinquishing control to you, especially since you wanted me to wear this skirt and stuff tonight. Like you said, I was feeling that my masculinity was being challenged. But after thinking about it, I see your point. I'll try to be a little more reasonable in the future and not question your every decision." The whole time, she just sat there with a cryptic smile on her face. After my little speech, she stood up and kissed me. "Now Allen that is one of the nicest things any man has said to me. I'm sure now more than ever that we are going to have a very special relationship." With that we went into the dinning room. Our meal went uneventfully, with Carrie complementing me on the supper and generally directing the conversation. Afterwards, she stood up and made it obvious that the clean up would be my responsibility. "Allen, I want you to hand wash and dry the china and silverware, I really don't like putting them in the dishwasher. The rest of the things just need to be rinsed before you put them in. Oh, use the rubber gloves under the sink, I got them for you, so your hands would stay soft and don't forget your apron." Smiling, she left the room and returned to the den. I did as she asked with no protest, again feeling embarrassed by how she was treating me, but realizing it was a small price to pay for her company. It certainly didn't eclipse how I felt when we walked into a restaurant, and could see the envy on every guy's face over my being her date. After I finished, I joined her in the den. Carrie was engrossed in some of her legal papers, and not wanting to interrupt, I quietly sat down on the ottoman at the foot of her armchair. She let me sit there awhile, until she reached the end of a page. "All done in the kitchen? Thanks again for being so sweet. I really look forward to the time I have a home to relax and it makes me feel special to have you do domestic chores so I won't have to bother with them. I have a little more reading to do and then we can go to bed. But first, I want you to go upstairs and take a nice relaxing bath. I'm sure your legs are killing you from those heels. Wearing them is something you don't get used to in one night." "Well you're right about that, my calves feel like I've been running up stairs all evening. I guess a bath would feel good." "Yes, just use the bubble bath next to the tub. That and the Jacuzzi jets should revive you. I've also laid out something on the bed for you to sleep in. There are some magazines on the night stand for you to read. I want you awake when I come up to bed." The smile on her face confirmed my earlier hopes, that this would be the evening that we initiated our sexual relationship. As I stood up and started to leave, Carrie spoke up again. "Just do me one other favor. I've put a couple of fresh razors by the tub. I want you to shave your legs, and any other body hair. Smooth hairless legs will look much better with your nylons and skirts, and you will use a blouse from now on, so that ugly masculine chest and underarm hair is definitely out." I was stunned by these remarks, tossed out as an aside by Carrie. She seemed to think this was a minor point, already settled, as she had returned to reading her papers. But to me it was more threatening than earlier, when she had insisted I first wear the skirt. Shaving my body hair was not just a one night thing, it had a permanence that would remain with me no matter where I was. Also, she had just implied that I would be wearing skirts and other feminine clothes again. I had been sure that this was only a one night ordeal, but now she acted as if I would wear them for some time. I had promised earlier to not question her decisions, but now I had to speak up. "Carrie, I don't really want to shave my body hair. That's going beyond what I feel comfortable with. And I thought you just wanted me to put a skirt on for tonight, as a symbolic gesture of my commitment to you. I certainly can't see myself wearing one enough to require shaving my legs. Doing a few household chores for you is one thing, but prancing around all the time in skirts and heels is not acceptable." I really wanted to sound authoritarian and confident as I tried to set her straight, but standing there in her skirt and panties, I felt I was begging more than directing. As I spoke to her, I couldn't even look her in the eye, and when I glanced down, all I could see were skirts, hose and heels. It definitely wasn't my most commanding performance and finally I stopped, looked up at her, and waited for a response. At first, she seemed almost not to have heard, as she kept her eyes focused on her paper. Then finally making a mark where she had stopped reading, she looked up at me. Her brilliant green eyes seemed to glow and she made a point of staring right at me, her jaw clenched tightly. It was more than a little unnerving; those eyes looked as if they could cut steel when she glared at me. She leaned forward in her chair and placed her right hand on my stocking leg just above the knee. Slowly she moved up hand upward, stroking my silky leg, until she had her hand on my crotch. She ran her nails across my penis, then back between my legs, where she would cup my butt through the hose and panties. She repeated this movement as if to indicate how vulnerable I was, standing there in my ladies underwear and a skirt. After an uncomfortable few seconds, she spoke. "Allen, I'm deeply disappointed in you. After your speech earlier, I felt you understood your place. I don't really care what your preference is; only what my preference is. I've made it perfectly clear to you that in this relationship, your role is to submit. As I said when you first got here tonight, you've made a few token steps toward accepting my dominant position in our relationship, but that I wanted to test your willingness to commit to me. That is why you will wear skirts, stockings, and whatever I tell you while you are in my house. It's not only because those are things that men don't wear, it is because they demonstrate my control and your acceptance. You must realize that you are a very lucky man. I can't imagine that you have ever gone out with someone as physically attractive or as mentally skilled as me. Although you are cute in many ways, you are not tremendously rugged in a manly sense and I'm definitely out of your league so to speak. But your willingness to accept my leadership, overcame your physical limitations. Your selling point is your subservient nature, your oh-so-easy willingness to let me wear the pants in our relationship. Surely you realize this. And I don't want to be mean to you, but you will wear a skirt or dress for me and you will take steps to be presentable in that attire. Otherwise, we are through and the sexual tension that has been building for this past month is not to be released. Only through the sacrifice of your stubborn male pride can you taste the sweet nectar that is between my thighs. Now are you going to go upstairs and do as I instruct or are you leaving?" As she unleashed this scathing tongue lashing, stripping my self- confidence about our relationship, all I could do was stand there, head bowed. She was right. I was out of my league. I knew it when she first asked me out, and with every date, I wondered when it might end. Now I knew what she found attractive about me and it was a scary thought. It was my inner self, my weak, relenting nature, the definitely un-masculine aspects of my personality that I had tried to hide my entire life. She had seen them, and cultivated them while we dated. Now she had laid me bare and made it plain that I had to encourage my feminine nature, my submissive nature, if I was to become her lover. As much as my ego wanted me to strip off these feminine clothes, tell her to go to hell, and leave her forever, I knew I couldn't do it. Her charm, her irresistible eyes, and her understated but searing sexual animalism controlled me. I had to experience her sexually, even if it meant further, more humiliating acts of submission. I knew she was stronger willed than I and more so, she knew it. As this reality became apparent to me, I couldn't look at her. Clearing my throat, I meekly replied. "I'm going upstairs to take my bath." Her glaring eyes continued to stare at me; I could feel them even without looking at her. "That's much better, Allen." Finally looking up into those eyes, I softly replied, "Thank you, may I go upstairs to prepare for you?" Her smile, bordering on a smirk, confirmed that she knew even without my verbal agreement, that my days in pants were over and my time has her sissy maid were just beginning. "Yes you may, Allie." Heading up the stairs, her feminization of my name rang in my ears. I knew she was going to take me much farther down this path than I could even realize. I reached the bath, and began to fill her tub with water and bath oils. I took off my clothes, neatly folding them as I did. I knew her well enough that she would not want her things just strewn about. As the bath filled, I checked out her bedroom. It was done in a modern, but rich style, not overly feminine but very appealing. I picked up the clothes on the bed, my clothes, and blushed. There was a short baby doll with lace cups in an ivory color and a matching lace thong. Under it was a waist cincher in matching color with a pair of lace top hose. I would have loved to see her in these, but couldn't imagine myself wearing such feminine things. Slipping into the bath water I felt immediately relaxed, but didn't waste much time before shaving. It took much longer than I expected. Although my hair was light blonde and I was not particularly hairy, it took a good 45 minutes to finish. I dried off and began to dress in 'my' lingerie. The cincher gave me a nice tight feeling and the hose were sensual on my bare legs. I slipped into her bed and began to flip through the magazines. She had a couple of Vogue, Glamour and Cosmos, but also a couple of vintage Playgirls. These surprised me, and I had to look at one just to see what the fuss had been about. Opening to the centerfold, I was stunned. The model was very manly and quite well endowed. Looking down at the way I was dressed and knowing how small my cock was emphasized how different this man was from me. I could not compete with a stud on that level. However, I didn't feel too bad, because I was in Carrie's bed waiting to have sex with her. That made it seem like a victory. Hearing Carrie come up the stairs made my heart beat faster. She went into the bath and soon came into the bedroom. She was completely naked and I was thrilled. Her body was taut, toned and perfectly proportioned. Her breasts were firm, but not too big. Her nipples were also erect, indicating she was excited as well. What surprised me most was that she had trimmed her pubic hair and her lips were smooth. She looked sexier than I had even imagined. We both looked at each other wordlessly; she pulled back the covers and slid into bed. Grabbing my head she kissed me hard, very passionately, forcing her tongue into my mouth and lightly bit my lip. She pulled back, straightened up and fed me her breasts, letting me briefly suck and kiss each nipple. Then she sat back against the head board, spread her legs and uttered only one word. 'Lick.' I knew what she wanted and began to kiss, lick and tongue her lips, clit and pussy. I had not done this much before, but I dreamed about it and did things I thought she might like. Combinations of tiny kisses, light sucking, broad sweeps of my tongue seemed to be working. As might be expected, she began to direct my oral actions, telling me to increase tempo or change pressure, kiss here or suck harder, and I could tell she was getting more and more excited. Finally she grabbed my head, pulling me even closer, and began to rub her pussy forcefully up and down my face. Erupting into a strong climax, her legs squeezed my head, her body shook, and a deep growl emitted from her. I was beaming inside because I had given her such a vivid orgasm. Carrie pushed me back, smiled, and complimented me. "Allie you did very well, especially for our first time. Of course you will get better, because I love to have my pussy worshiped. But I love a hard fuck as well, so let's see how you do with that." Reaching into the nightstand drawer, she pulled out a bright pink condom and flipped it to me, as she got up out of the bed and went to the bath. "Put that on and I'll get ready for you. " I had been hard for some time and pulled aside the thong and rolled the condom down my cock. It looked quite different with the hot pink color and since she had not told me to remove anything, I tucked my penis back into the thong. Carrie then appeared and a surprised look spread across my face. She stood at the foot of the bed, stroking a rather large cock, held tightly around her body by a black harness. I could see that it was positioned so that the base was snuggled between her lips and a second shaft was inserted into her. Her hand moved slowly up and down the dildo, applying a thick coat of lubricant. "Up on your knees, and face the headboard. Put that little ass up in the air, Allie. Seeing as you are a little small in the cock area, I think it better if I do the fucking. But don't worry I'll be gentle this first time." I complied with her wishes and positioned myself, but I could not believe this turn of events. I had dreamed of feeling my cock enter her. The tightness as I slid deeper and deeper into her, the silkiness of her pussy, and how her anticipation of sex with me would have her wet and willing. Now that was flipped. As she placed the head of 'her' cock at my hole, I would feel those emotions and sensations from the other side. Carrie pulled my thong aside, pushed slowly into me, and as my opening expanded I began to fear that it was too big for me, and wiggled my ass both in pain and a desire to make entry easier. The stretching subsided as the larger head passed into me and was replaced with more of a feeling of fullness. I could feel her pushing her way into me and was surprised at how quickly the pain changed into a sexual pressure. Finally I could feel her thighs against my butt and knew she had fully penetrated me. Slowly she withdrew her cock, until it was tight against my opening. She then began to press forward, and initiated a rhythmic cycle of penetration and removal. The lubricant had done its job and she moved in and out, smoothly, almost effortlessly. Increasing the speed of her fucking, Carrie soon began to pant, not from exertion but from sexual emotion. The throaty growl that I had heard when I had gone down on her, had returned and I could hear that she was leading toward a climax. She was going at such a steady pace that she often withdrew completely from me, only to plunge quickly back into my body. The sensations of pain had all but left and I arched my back so that my ass would be fully accessible to her. The sensation of being fucked was much different than I expected at the start and I felt sexual desire building in me as well. Finally Carrie's vocal tone changed. She was close to orgasm. At this point she leaned into me, pressing her breasts into my back, and she reached around into my panties. Grabbing my cock she began to stroke it. She still had some lubricant on her hand and she was able to sync her hand movement with her thrusts into my ass. Climax built quickly for me and when I felt her body tighten and a groan of sexual release escape her lips, I exploded. It seemed like I squirted forever, filling the condom and draining me of emotion. As the climax subsided in both of us, Carrie wrapped her arms around me and we lay together gathering our senses for a few minutes. Finally I could hear her unsnapping the straps on her harness, and she pulled away from me, leaving it impaled in my ass. She lay on her back next to me and once again spread her legs. "Allie, lick me again. I want you to clean me. I love having my sexual exertions licked from me. You will always end my sexual events this way. Nothing reinforces my position as the head of the household as having you tend to my needs. I hate having to get up out of bed after a good fuck to clean myself. It makes the whole experience seem dirty rather than the natural process it really is." I complied, although with her dildo still in me, it was rather awkward. Not that I didn't enjoy her taste. Like my earlier efforts, just being able to touch her intimately and experience her musky, sexual flavor was reward enough. After a few minutes, she indicated that she was clean. "Allie you need to get up and get cleaned off. I think you'll understand now why you needed a condom. It kept you from messing up your pretty panties or my bed. Just take a wash cloth and clean your little boy. My cock will take more work, as I'm sure you've soiled it with your pussy. In the future, you may want to douche before we have sex so that it won't be as nasty afterward. As with all the other chores in my house, you will be responsible for keeping everything clean and tidy." With that she rolled over to go to sleep. I joined her soon after completing my duties and we both fell asleep within minutes. The rest of the weekend passed quickly with Carrie showing me how I was to keep her place clean and what I was expected to do. She also measured me for additional clothes, so that, as she put it, I looked neat and tidy as I represented her as much as any of her other possessions. I stayed until Sunday afternoon. Back at my place alone, it seemed almost odd not to be wearing the silky clothes I had spent the whole weekend wearing. Dragging back to work on Monday was particularly hard. I had experienced a sexual explosion over the weekend that made daily activities seem minor in comparison. I was stunned when I got to my desk. A huge bouquet of pink roses sat in the middle of it. The card was from Carrie and she gushed over how much she loved this weekend and that I was more than she expected. The large vase of flowers was not overlooked by my co-workers and the women in particular all came by to inquire about it. Finding out it was from my girl friend, seemed to spark something in them and they all had to tell me about the first or most important flowers that a man had sent them. They seemed to bond with me, and asked about my weekend. The rest of the week dragged by slowly until Carrie called and invited me out to dinner on Wednesday. We had a wonderful time and she let me know she expected me to come by again this weekend. Arriving at her place early Friday, she showed me the new clothes she had got for me. The entire closet of her spare bedroom was full of skirts, blouses, and dresses. Each outfit had matching heels, now much higher than the short pair I had started with. The dresser was also full, with lacy bras, panties and an assortment of waist cinchers or corsets with garters. She made it clear that my attire was always to be feminine when I was in her house. We slipped into a regular routine. I assumed all household chores for her and made a special effort to keep everything exactly as she desired. I also became more adept at cooking, although we still ate in restaurants more often than not. At her request, I wore panties all the time, even when I was away from her. I let my hair grow longer and even went to her stylist to get it shaped into a unisex bob. Manicures and pedicures followed, although only with clear polish and a length just beyond the tips of my fingers. She had shown me how to use makeup, and preferred me to wear it almost all the time when we were together at her place. Flowers were also part of the routine, showing up on my desk after every weekend. This continued to attract other female workers, and soon I was spending most of my time at work with them. As a clerk, I was technically on a higher level than most of the women, who were secretaries and support staff. However, I became part of their social group and even volunteered to sub for them when they needed bathroom breaks or when other duties called them away from their station. We always ate lunches together, gossiping about the latest diets, fashion or the guys at the job. I guess I found myself associating with them, because I had become the 'wife' in my relationship with Carrie. Certainly being on the receiving end in all of our fucking, and wearing sexy female clothes had changed my views in many ways. That was one part of our life that wasn't routine. It was quite embarrassing the first time I bought a disposal solution to clean myself before she fucked me. I know she liked the idea of me preparing myself for her, but for me it was another confirmation of how far I had come from a dominate male. I was becoming more adjusted to her mounting me, although we kept it to just a few times a week. Most nights I found myself with my head nestled between her legs, kissing her to orgasms. I had become most proficient and knew very well how she liked it. I was also surprised at how feminine I was able to appear. It hurt my manhood a little to admit that I could easily appear as a cute girl, but I didn't dwell on it as I had convinced myself it was worth it to be with her. I knew we had progressed to another level, when she gave me a key to her place. I think Carrie liked the idea that I would come by, clean up, and do her laundry while she was busy with late evenings. She even insisted I wear my skirts, heels, and lingerie when I was there by myself. I was expected to always follow her preferences. So it came, as no surprise when she called me Friday morning to see if I could leave work early, make sure her place looked nice, and make my signature dish. I assured her I would love to. Although I was new at cooking, I had figured out a few meals that she really liked. One in particular was very appropriate as it was easy to keep simmering for an extended time, so if she was late making it home, it would still taste wonderful. With a few quick side dishes, we could enjoy a great meal. She knew it took a while to prepare so she often asked me to leave work early and start it. After arranging to leave early, I went by the local grocery to get what we needed for dinner. At her place, I changed into a nice black mini dress, low cut to show my little cleavage. Of course, I wore matching lace black, pushup bra, thong and waist cincher with stockings underneath. I finished the look with slingback heels, pearl necklace and earrings, and my ruffled apron. I really didn't need to clean much, but I dusted and vacuumed downstairs, and wiped off all the counters, and table tops. While I was cleaning, I started the main dish which was based on a large beef roast. I cooked it at very low heat, so it took a lot of time, which allowed me to finish tidying up her place and then do my makeup and hair. She had gotten where she liked me to be a fem as possible when we were together and I always tried to please her. I had just finished setting the table and arranging the flowers, when I heard a car in the driveway. I went and stood by the door. She liked me to take her coat and briefcase when she came in, and see if she wanted a drink. Entering the house, Carrie did hand me her briefcase and turn so I could help take off her coat. But as I reached to slide it off her shoulders, I caught sight of a man behind her. I didn't know what else to do, so I just finished my task. My heart was alternating between beating a thousand times a second and stopping completely. With her briefcase and coat in my hands, I just sort of froze on the spot. Unfortunately, that did not make me invisible. The gentleman, who stepped in after Carrie, looked me straight in the eyes and handed me his coat and satchel. "Thank you, Allie. Please put our coats away and you can take our briefcases into my study. This is the head of my firm, Mr. Stevens, and we have a bit of work to finish tonight, so I suggested he come by for dinner. Bring us each a drink, I'll have my regular. Is Dewar's ok Jack?" "That will be fine, I like it just straight up, no ice. " I just nodded my head in agreement; I hung the coats and then headed back to her office. Hurrying to make the drinks, I put them on a tray and went to the study. The whole time my mind was spinning, between anger and shock for Carrie exposing me to someone and embarrassment at how submissive and feminine I must look. I could only hope that she had not told him I was her boyfriend and maybe he assumed I was just her domestic help. With that last thought in my mind, I entered the study. "Very good Allie, just put the drinks here on the desk. Dinner smells great, but we want to tackle these cases first, so can you give us about an hour? Just let us know about 5 minutes before you want to serve it. You know Jack, although new at it, he has become quite a cook. I think you'll really like the meal." "Oh I'm sure I will. I can see why you are so proud of him. The place looks really well kept and he is quite fetching in that little uniform. So you can accommodate our delay in dining? I wanted to just nod my head, because now I knew he was aware of our situation. However, I had to answer, so I tried my soft, throaty, feminine voice that Carrie insisted I develop. "Yes sir, it will be no problem. Is there anything else I can get you?" "No Allie, that's all." With her dismissal I returned to the kitchen. I busied myself making the side dishes, but my mind was racing over what had just happened. Apparently, Carrie had told him about us previously. Was he the only one or were there others? The idea of my being her fem servant had been easy to compartmentalize when I thought it was just her and I. Now that it was beyond our relationship, it was going to change both how I looked at myself and how I envisioned others seeing me. Thankfully, the hour passed quickly and I let them know dinner was ready. The meal was uneventful, with them still talking about case law. Carrie had shown me how to serve a meal professionally before, when she had work to finish and had eaten at the table alone. How to offer the dishes, touch up the wine glass, or inquire about additional helpings. I spoke softly and tried to be as much in the background as possible. Finally they finished eating and began to get up from the table. "Jack, I'm going upstairs for a bit, you want another glass of wine?" "Yes, I'll get it from Allie." With that she left, and he followed me into the kitchen, where I filled his glass. He remained there watching me work. I felt uncomfortable being alone with him, but didn't know what else to do besides keep doing my chores. I could feel him eyeing me as I bent to put dishes in the washer or place leftovers in the refrigerator. I was very aware of how short my dress was. I knew when I bent over that my garters and stocking tops and occasionally my thong were visible. I didn't have to look at him to know he was watching this show, but there was no way to complete my tasks without flashing him. Just as I was finishing, he empty his wine and handed me the glass. "I assume you take care of Carrie's laundry as part of your duties. Do you iron them?" "Yes sir. She likes all her blouses and suits ironed." "Very good. My suit got quite wrinkled in court today and I would appreciate you touching it up for me. I left the jacket over a chair in the dining room and you can come upstairs in a bit to get my pants." With that statement, he began to leave the room. As he did so, he reached under the hem of my dress and grabbed my bare butt cheek underneath. He gave it a firm squeeze, smiled and headed toward the stairs. The shock of that touch vibrated through me as did his words. He was going upstairs to join Carrie and it was obvious what he had in mind since he was coming out of his pants. I numbly finished in the kitchen, retrieved his coat and went to the laundry room to warm up the iron. I hesitated not knowing what to do next. He had said to come upstairs to get his pants, but I didn't want to go, I didn't want to see what I feared. But I knew Carrie expected me to follow orders so I slowly made my way up the stairs, intently listening for any sounds of erotic activity. Hearing nothing, I reached the door to her bedroom. It was slightly ajar, so swallowing hard, and getting up my courage I entered. I kept my eyes downcast, hoping to see his pants. But what I did see shocked me and I stood motionless, trying to once again disappear. Carrie was dressed only in lace holdup stockings, very high heeled red pumps, and a red satin choker around her neck. She looked gorgeous and so sexy it hurt. Jack was sitting on the foot of the bed, completely naked. It seems funny looking back on it now, but he reminded me of an older version of the Playgirl centerfold I had looked at that first night I was in Carrie's bed. He was in good shape for his age, his body hair thick, with only a touch of gray, and his cock was erect and quite large. Carrie was kneeling between his legs and had obviously been sucking him. Hearing me enter, she stood up and went to the dresser to retrieve his pants. She had a slight grin, but a wanton look in her eyes, as she handed me the pants without a word. Hearing Jack speak up, she turned giving me a wonderful profile view of her body, beautiful and aroused by this ongoing sexual encounter. "Carrie, hop up on the bed and put that pretty pussy up in the air for me. I'm ready to give you a real fucking." She complied quickly, kneeling with her head facing the head board, resting on the bed. Her pussy and ass was raised and her legs were spread, awaiting his penetration. He stepped to her and in one powerful thrust, buried his shaft into her. She groaned the deep throaty way I knew meant she was sexually aroused. So without waiting for further instructions, I retreated and went downstairs. I immediately began to iron his suit, trying to banish the scene I had just witnessed from my mind. But it was hopeless, it was imprinted there and the sounds of sex coming from upstairs only reinforced my mind's vision. I ironed and ironed on the suit, not with the goal of doing my best job, but just to keep occupied, not knowing what else to do. Finally I heard his steps coming downstairs. I took his suit and went to meet him. "I see you've finished and it looks like a good job. I appreciate you doing this favor for me. As I said before, Carrie is lucky to have you." With that, he stepped into the pants and slid on the jacket. Dressed, he went to the front door and opened it to leave. Before he exited, he turned and said, "Carrie expects you upstairs. She said she needed you and had something to ask you." With that he left, and I went upstairs. Entering her bedroom, I found Carrie reclining on the bed. She looked at me, spread her legs, and indicated that I was to kneel between them. I could see the evidence of her sex with Jack. Her pussy was still slightly agape from his large cock, not quite recovered to its normal opening size. There was the wetness and secretions that I saw when I cleaned her after our sexual encounters, but there was also a thicker, white substance pooling between her lips. I didn't really want to do this, but I knew she expected me to. As I leaned in, her musky odors hit me. This usually got me excited, as it reflected her sexual interest in me, but now I recognized a slightly different odor, stronger and more pungent. I decided the only way to do this, was to proceed as if it was our usual pattern. So, I began the way I always did, making short little cat licks up the outside of her lips, running from bottom to top. First I worked up the left side, and then the right. Next I gently kissed her clitoris, lightly sucking it into my mouth and teasing it with my tongue. This produced her normal squirming and soft utterances. After a few moments, I knew I needed to move to the cleanup phase, so without hesitating I ran my tongue up the inside of her lips, using a broad stroke to cover her pussy from bottom to top. Alternating between each side, these strokes had the effect of wiping the outer opening of her pussy clean of all juices. I could definitely taste him in these, as they were thicker, with a much tarter and saltier taste. I concentrated on how my actions must be pleasing Carrie and not on what they meant I was swallowing. As I began to plunge my tongue into her pussy, first just on the outside and then deeper, I finally looked up at her face. I didn't know what I expected to see, but just knew it was time. Her face was beaming and looked me in the eyes as she spoke. "Allie, I know this must have been traumatic, but it is really simple to understand. In our relationship, I am the dominant partner, I control our lives, and you work within those boundaries to please me and I think, yourself as well. As I like to say, I wear the pants. In my relationship with Jack, it is different. He is the head of the firm, the most senior partner. He dominates the decisions in our office and his relationship with me. He wears the pants. As you saw, he is still a very masculine man and quite endowed. I find sex with him exciting, stimulating, and erotic. He fulfills needs in me that few can. That doesn't mean I love him, as I do you. You have given yourself to me in a way that no other man has; in a way that I want from my primary relationship. Your actions tonight only reinforced that appreciation of you by me. Today was very special, in many ways. Jack made me a full partner in his law firm. It means special status, increased pay, and stability. Based on that, I'd like to make this the best day ever." Reaching for the nightstand, Carrie picked up a small velvet covered box. Opening the box, she showed it to me. Inside was a glittering diamond ring, it must have been 2 carats. It looked huge. Taking my hand she continued, "Allie, I know now that you are the one for me. I want you to be my wife. Are you willing to be mine forever?" I didn't know what to do, but a smile spread across my lips, I knew the feelings inside me were right, so I lifted my left hand to her and let her place the ring on my finger. She beamed, as she leaned to me and gave me a big kiss. "Now hop on this bed and get that dress off. I want to give my fianc?e the best fuck of her life." Finally I was glad that I wasn't wearing pants, I craved sex with her and knew my new life would be what I had always secretly desired. So it was much easier to just slide up my skirt and raise my ass to wait for my love to make her mine. She could have the pants.