Pansy
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PANSY HUBBIES by Throne
My wife Lila had told me how she wanted to see me looking when she got
home from her evening out. She has been making me dress and act like a
sissy for the past year. This time she wanted me to put on light make-
up, check to make sure I didn't have a single hair anywhere on my body
(naturally), and get dressed in a frothy, pale rose, baby-doll nightie.
I knew she had been flirting with a guy where she works and I was worried
that she was with him. But what could I do? She has been ruling my sex
life for the whole time that she's been making me look and act girly.
Basically, I'm her bed slave and have to provide her with endless oral
stimulation. She doesn't have to do anything for me but she enjoys
teasing, getting me impossibly aroused, and then leaving me that way.
Occasionally, if she is feeling generous and not too tired, I might get a
hand job.
I was sitting in front of the TV, watching one of the shows she approves
for me. This one was a reality program about designing clothes. I was
even getting involved with it but then I heard the front door opening. I
jumped up, muted the sound, and hurried toward the front of the house,
wishing that she had permitted me to wear the panties that matched the
nightie. Lila was just shutting the door. She was lovely in a tailored
jacket and pleated skirt that looked terrific on her slender figure. A
week ago she had gotten her hair cut, shortening it from the shoulder
length that I preferred, to more of a pixie cut. Now her hair was about
the same as mine, except that I was still allowed to part it on the side.
That looked good during the day, while I was working at the office, but
at night it was incongruous with my feminized appearance. Lila found
that amusing and I had no say in it.
She had a dreamy smile on her pretty face. As I approached her she
tossed me her clutch purse. I caught it clumsily. Well, I never was
athletic. As I stood there hugging it against my narrow chest, she
smirked at me and said, "Hey George-Georgina. We have to go to the
bedroom. And I mean right now. There's something to discuss and -- big
surprise -- I want you to do nice things for me."
By 'do nice things' she meant using my mouth on her pussy. But I could
tell there was something more involved. She swept past me and I followed
wordlessly. In the bedroom I meekly set her purse on the dresser. She
turned to me and said, "Let's go, Georgina. Down on your knees and take
off my panties."
I did as I was told but, when I reached up under her skirt, all I could
feel was bare skin. It felt so good that I started to get hard. At the
same time, I wasn't used to her coming home like that. What was going
on?
She said, "Oh, that's right. I stuffed my panties into my purse. How
silly of me to forget." She looked me up and down and nodded, then sat
on the edge of the bed. "Damn. I'm too worn out to even get undressed.
Why do you think I'm so tired, pretty girl?"
In a soft unmanly voice, the one she requires me to use, I said, "Because
you had a long day at work and then went out with the girls?"
"Partly right. I did have a long day at work. But then I went out with
a guy. Steve, who I told you I was flirting with. He really liked that
I got my hair cut after he said it would look great if it was short. So
he invited me for a drink and I started telling him about you, and how my
love life needed a reboot. We wound up going to his place and -- bang! -
- ended up in bed together. And it was wonderful. What do you think of
that?"
I gazed up at her from my lowly position and whispered, "But... I mean...
we're married..."
"Technically, yes. But you can't fulfill your husbandly duties. Do you
really think I want sex with a dude in panties? And a nighty? Plus
whatever else I make you wear?" She laughed. "Not any more. You let
that privilege get taken away from you. And now there's no way to get it
back. But you're still good for licking my pussy. So let's concentrate
on that, Georgina."
She laid back and sighed. I was well enough trained that I immediately
got into my accustomed spot, lying between her outstretched legs. She
flipped up her skirt and I was confronted with an unwelcome sight.
Obviously, she had had unprotected sex, because there was a generous
helping of male ejaculate leaking out of her body. I gagged slightly.
"Um, Lila darling. You don't want me to... er... do nice things for you
now? Before you wash up down there?"
"Oh, baby," she said sympathetically. "That would be nicer for you, but
it would get me out of the mood. You don't want my fun to be spoiled, do
you?"
"I... no. It's just that..." I took a steadying breath. "How about if
I run and get you a nice warm washcloth? I could clean you up that way."
"Or you could clean me with your mouth while you give me a few more
orgasms. The washcloth idea doesn't work for me. Again, it's a mood
breaker. I had some deep, hard, bed-rocking orgasms from my new lover,
but now I want the milder kind that I get from your talented tongue.
It's the best of both worlds. At least for me it is." She chuckled.
"So get busy, girl. And we can have that discussion I mentioned while
you bring me off. It'll be kind of one-sided, with your tongue being so
busy, but don't worry. All you have to do is listen while I tell you how
it's going to be from now on."
Too beaten down to oppose her, I put my face where she wanted it and got
my first taste of another man's salty spunk from her pussy. It was awful
but I kept going. The soft nightie caressed my body as I lapped up and
swallowed Steve's copious output. Worse -- and I suppose this was
because I hadn't been allowed to finish for a while -- I got stiff.
Lila went on, "Those hand jobs you've been getting, Georgina, will have
to stop. Steve is going to be my lover and if I did that for you
anymore, I would feel like I'm cheating on him. Maybe I'll let you play
with yourself, but that will be very rare. Probably a few times a year
at the most. I want you to be completely devoted to MY wants and needs.
From what I've read on-line, the less you get to cum, the more you'll
become addicted to serving me. It's sort of like having your brain
rewired. Imagine that. You'll actually look forward to me going out on
dates and coming home with a mess between my legs for you to slurp up. I
think that's funny... and exciting. I'll be laughing at you and getting
aroused at the same time. Ha.
"Naturally, I'll be keeping you in your lovely pansy role. But I'm going
to push you further and further. There'll be lots of curtsying and
lisping and swishing around. Oh, and I'm going to have you using your
mouth on my ass the same way you do on my pussy. I want you hooked on
that as well. I can't wait to hear you begging me, in a whiny tone, to
be allowed to use your tongue back there, and then thanking me after
you're done.
"And I'll be doing everything I can to keep you well teased, so horny
that you'll constantly be thinking about my sex life with Steve and the
games I play with you. Best of all, I'm going to expand your sissy
wardrobe and make you look as overly feminine as you'll be acting."
Without stopping my licking, I involuntarily whimpered. That must have
triggered her memory because she suddenly said, "Oh, I almost forgot.
Another change I thought of on the ride home. You're no longer allowed
to kiss me on the lips. In fact, considering that way you love to
slobber all over my tits, and the fact that they now belong to Steve,
let's just say that you're not allowed to kiss me anywhere above the
waist. Nothing for you but pussy and ass, and maybe legs and feet." She
chuckled, but then gasped as I sucked on her clit.
For the next ten minutes I concentrated on making her happy. The front
of my nightie rubbed maddeningly against my nipples, which are very
sensitive. That unwanted erection refused to go away. My balls were
getting sore -- again -- from not being emptied for so long. But Lila
eventually got extra wet and then exploded with a climax like I'd never
given her before. Obviously, cheating on me agreed with my wife.
Since that night she's stuck with all of her rules. And with her promise
to get me plenty more sissy fashions. She loves to put me into training
bras and panties with open crotches, and then I have to put on heels and
strut around like that. After she's had a good laugh at my expense,
she'll decide on what to put on over those items. She favors clingy tops
with spaghetti straps and tiny skirts that conceal just about nothing. I
have to strike poses while she takes photos to send to Steve, who gets
off on the idea that he's bedding a married woman and she's turning her
husband into more and more of a pansy.
In addition, she wears extra-sexy fashions around the house and
frequently teases my nipples with her nimble fingers, sometimes
whispering lewd suggestions or relating what she likes to do with Steve
on their dates. The last time they were out she sent a photo to my phone
of her hand on his hard cock. Right now, as I finish writing this, she's
with him and I'm wearing filmy harem pajamas and a glittery turban, along
with 'Cleopatra' style eye make-up. She sent me a text abut 20 minutes
ago, saying that they'd had great sex, but it looked like Steve was going
to want a repeat performance. Lila ended the message with the words,
'You'll have a double mess to clean up. Ha, ha, ha!'
Now, in some strange way, I'm looking forward to her return, thinking
about her well-used pussy the entire time. This humiliating costume
keeps teasing my skin, all over. And I've got another of my frequent
undesired erections. If it's there when she returns, I'm sure she'll
make me play with it to get me overstimulated, and then make me stop so
I'm left unfulfilled. Like always. But she was correct about how all
this is altering my mind. In some perverse way I crave everything that's
happening. I hate it but I desire it. She knows that and says she plans
to see how far she can reprogram me, and what a total pansy she can turn
me into.
******
Carl was always uncomfortable when his wife decided to have one of her
Girls' Nights. She loved to invite three or four of her female friends
over for the evening, so they could chat and eat snacks and maybe watch
one of their favorite TV shows. Instead of just saying hello to those
attractive young women and maybe making an excuse to hang around for a
while to enjoy looking at them, and then going out to the mall or a
movie, he had to stay and provide entertainment. Unfortunately for Carl,
his wife Tracy's idea of entertainment was for him to be dressed as a
sissy and do whatever he was told. At the moment he was wearing a
ruffled apron, stockings, and the ever-present heels.
He was just finishing cleaning the kitchen when she called to him,
"Carla, did you put the wine in to chill?"
Using the soft high voice she insisted on hearing, he answered, "Yes,
dear. Two white, two red, and one pink."
"Good girl. Now go get your bubble bath and make sure to use plenty of
that new soap. You're going to smell so nice."
It was Friday evening, so at least he would have the weekend to shed the
flowery aroma before he went to work on Monday. He sighed and headed for
the bathroom, aware of how his heels were making him poke out his bottom
and wiggle his hips, along with thrusting his chest forward. He wasn't
even able to walk like a man. In the bathroom he undressed carefully, at
the same time checking to be sure he didn't have a single hair on his
body. If any of the guys at the office ever discovered how smooth and
feminine his skin was, he would never hear the end of it. He turned on
the water, adjusted it, and closed the drain. Reluctantly, he poured a
generous portion of bubble bath into the tub. It was called Garden Girl
and smelled like some unsubtle perfume. He shampooed his hair with
another boldly scented product. His wife let him keep his hair short for
work, so when he was dressed en femme it was obvious he was a guy. Carl
soaked for the prerequisite half hour and then rinsed off under the
shower. Out of the tub, he wrapped his slender body in two large fluffy
towels, with a smaller one around his head.
Smelling like, well, like a Girl Garden, he slipped back into his heels
and went to his room. Tracy didn't permit him to move around the house
in bare feet or flats. It was heels or nothing. He got to the spare
bedroom that she had converted for him. It was decorated in a style
somewhere between teen girl and drag queen. That he was used to. What
alarmed him was the clothing laid out on the bed. No, no, no. He
couldn't wear THAT. Carl's narrow shoulders slumped as he considered the
hopelessness of objecting. Any rights he'd had in that department, if in
fact he'd ever had any, had vanished long ago. But this was just awful
Neatly displayed on the peach and white top cover was a loose, see-
through mesh, sleeveless top and a transparent plastic skirt, mid-thigh
length. Alongside those were a pair of translucent, primrose, high-cut
panties and a pink training bra of some thin material. It would be
almost like being naked in front of Tracy's friends. He bit his lips and
tried to calm himself. Against his will he began to dress, checking
himself in the three-way mirror that she had gotten from a recently
closed clothing store. His small penis was visible, curled up in the
panties. He tucked it down and under, the way his wife liked it, so that
his hairless crotch looked almost like a girl's. The top and bra didn't
quite hide his nipples. When he moved, the skirt made a crinkling noise
that would draw even more attention to him, as if that was necessary. He
put his hands on the sides of his face and stared at himself. That was
when his wife slipped into the room.
"Don't you look just too scrumptious. Every eye is going to be on you
all evening long. I hope you'll remember to flutter your lashes and lick
your lips, the way I've been teaching you. That'll add so much to your
presentation."
"P... please, Tracy. I can't have all those women see me like this.
Can't I just switch to one of my mini-dresses, or a shorts and top set?
Anything more conservative than this."
"Now, now," she soothed. "You know those choices would be too bland for
an evening of fun. The girls are used to seeing you in the black teddy,
or that shorty robe trimmed in faux fur, or the flesh colored body
stocking. I just wanted to go one step further."
"But those other things... nobody can see through them."
"And that's why we had to switch to something peek-a-boo. You wouldn't
want your fan club to be disappointed, now would you?"
He knew that further argument was useless. Carl hung his head and
admitted, "No, Ma'am."
She nodded and said, "Now straighten that posture, young lady. And go
look in the bottom of your closet. I got you something that will finish
off this combo perfectly."
A chill ran up his back. What else did she want him to put on? He
opened the door and looked down. There sat a pair of open-toed high
heels... clear plastic ones. With translucent plastic roses on their
fronts. He shivered as he slid his feet out of his heels and into the
new footwear and turned to face his wife, who was tickled at how she had
made him look. And smell. She told him to sit at his vanity table so
she could finish 'making you the prettiest girl at the party'. He sat
delicately and saw his sad-faced reflection. She selected blue eye
shadow, pale pink lipstick, and blush. The unspectacular cosmetics would
not draw much attention to his face, so the guests could focus on those
outrageous fashions. She worked with rapid self-assured movements and
soon his make-up was done.
That left only his hair. She brushed it up in the front and sprayed it,
so that it stayed in a miniature pompadour. After considering him for a
moment, she selected clip-on earrings with clear teardrops dangling down
and put them on him, as if he couldn't do it for himself. Then she had
him parade around, stick out his tush, rub his nipples through what he
was wearing, and kiss the air in front of his face repeatedly. Tracy
chuckled at how totally sissified he was. He blushed and wished he could
just get into his canopied bed, put his head on the ruffled pillow, and
stay there.
But there were guests on their way. They went downstairs and he arranged
snacks on trays, then put them back into the refrigerator. He set out
wineglasses on the sideboard. As soon as he was done, before he could
take a moment to compose himself, the doorbell rang. With Tracy's
critical eyes on him, he went to admit the first arrivals, his shapely
bottom moving attractively. Carl was mortified to see two of her friends
standing there, both of them snickering at the way he looked. As they
passed by, one of them said something about him smelling like a flower
shop. He followed them meekly. They met Tracy in the spacious living
room and there were hugs all around. As they sat and began chatting, he
stood off to one side.
The bell sounded again and he scurried away to answer it. This time it
was just one young woman. Her name was Annie and, unlike the rest of the
group, she was plump and had overly full curves. Just seeing her always
stirred something within him. His dick twitched inside his panties,
reminding him of how his wife had made him tuck and hide it. Annie
closed the door behind herself and stepped close to him, so near that he
imagined he could feel the heat radiating off of her.
She wanted to know, "How is Tracy's pansy hubby today? Is he happy that
he's getting to show off his cuteness in that revealing outfit? Does he
like being the center of attention?"
Carl blushed and whispered, "I'm fine, thank you. And I love what I'm
wearing and how it gives everyone an eyeful of my body." He was lying
but that was what was expected of him. Annie brought her full lips close
to his mouth and gave him an air kiss. She giggled and strode away, with
him following wordlessly, his eyes on her wide round bottom. She joined
the others and a fresh round of conversation started.
There was another ring and he rushed off to answer again. This time it
was -- he hoped -- his wife's final guest. She was a smiling Black woman
with the face and body of a model. Carl stepped aside as she entered.
She smirked at his shameful appearance and went to join everyone else.
When he got there, his wife sent him to fetch the snacks. He had to
circle the room with a tray, bending forward in front of each female.
One of the first arrivals quipped about having something to nibble on,
looking not at the food but at Carl. He quivered nervously while she
took her time picking something from the tray. At last the snacks were
distributed and he was allowed to set the tray on the coffee table in
front of the sofa.
"So, Tracy" one of the women wanted to know. "What inspired you to dress
Carla like that?"
"Well, I know what an exhibitionist she is, so I thought she'd get an
extra kick of being dressed-but-undressed that way."
There were approving murmurs and nods all around. Then someone wanted to
know, "Does she ever get out of line? Give you any backtalk?"
"Well," Tracy said, "sometimes she lets me know she's not happy with what
I'm doing to her. Earlier she balked at wearing what she has on."
"That's not right," the first woman offered. "Not after you picked such
delightful clothes for her. Maybe she'd behave better if she got an
occasional... spanking."
"Really," said the Black woman, with a glint in her eyes. "And I'd be
happy to administer it."
"Would you, Denise?" Tracy smiled slyly. "In front of all of us?"
Carl couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had never been spanked
before. And to have it done while he was dressed this way would be
absolutely awful. He silently hoped that Denise was just joking.
But then Tracy said, "I suppose it would be good for my little Carla.
And entertaining for the rest of us." She chortled. "So why don't I
have her move that wooden chair to the center of the room, so everyone
will have a good view of the action."
"Perfect," agreed Denise, as she rose gracefully.
Feeling numb from shock, Carl went to get the ladder-back chair. He set
it in the open space in the middle of the room. His wife had him move it
a few times, just to keep him on display a bit longer. Then Denise
approached and sat down like she was royalty. She had on a short skirt
that rode far up on her bare thighs. Carl swallowed with difficulty as
she patted her lap and gestured with her chin for him to put himself
there. He took even smaller steps than usual as he went to her, trying
to delay the inevitable. Then he carefully draped himself across her
upper legs, feeling the warmth of them through his skirt. She flipped
the garment up in the back and ran her fingers over his panty-clad
bottom, making him squirm mentally, though he was able to keep his body
still.
To Tracy she said, "I'm thinking that about two dozen should do... for a
start. How does that sound to you?"
"Mmmm. I guess that's a good number, at least until we see how she
reacts. If she makes too much of a scene, she might earn herself some
more."
Carl glanced around, desperate to find even one sympathetic face.
Instead, he spotted Annie, who was watching avidly, even leaning in his
direction. Despite what he was going through, her big bust and full
round thighs got him excited. She gave him a private smile. He was
trying to figure out what that meant when Denise suddenly raised her arm
and brought her hand down hard on his upturned backside, the contact
making a loud sharp slapping sound. He yelped and lifted his head, but
she was already delivering the second spank, followed rapidly by ten
more. After that first dozen she halted. Carl was taking deep
shuddering breaths, trying to regain control of himself. Annie was
grinning. Tracy had gotten up and was standing to one side for a better
look.
"Let me get those panties out of your way, Denise," Tracy volunteered.
"I want to see you swatting her on the bare skin."
"Fine by me," the Black woman said happily as Tracy worked down the filmy
lingerie. "And that'll make it easier to see how her rump is coloring
up." Her eyes met Annie's and she asked her, "Don't you think she'll
look lovely with a properly pinked sitter?"
"Oh, yes," Annie said breathily. This action was obviously affecting
her.
"Good," said Denise. "Then I'll work extra hard to make it happen."
In spite of himself, Carl moaned softly when he heard that. Denise gave
Annie a broad wink and raised her arm, ready to begin again. She stayed
like that for an extra moment while Carl anticipated what was to come.
Then she swung harder than before -- as promised -- and made him yelp
loudly from surprise and pain. The blows came more slowly this time,
prolonging his ordeal and making for better entertainment. When she
finished, there was a spontaneous round of applause. Annie stood up and
stared at him as if she was in a trance. She went to one of the snack
trays and scooped up some mixed edibles: tiny pretzels, peanuts, mini-
crackers. The plump woman went to Carl, who was still stretched across
Denise's lap, and held the offering under his chin.
"We don't want you to think we don't like you, Carla sweetie. You've
been a really good serving girl. So here's a treat for you." She shook
her hand slightly, indicating that Carl should eat.
He dipped his head down and began to pick up the bits of food with his
lips and tongue. As he chewed, his butt still smarting terribly from the
spanking, Annie chuckled. She rubbed her fleshy thighs together.
Tracy observed, "You're really getting off on that, Annie."
"Yeah. His tongue keeps touching the palm of my hand. I'm very
sensitive there. Among other places. I remember you saying how adept
your Carla is at using her mouth on you. Would you mind if I took her to
the bedroom and... er... borrowed her for a half hour or so?"
For a second Tracy was taken aback, then she laughed soundlessly and
said, "No problem, dear. After all, it's her fault that you got worked
up. If she hadn't given Denise a reason to spank her, we'd all just be
sitting here chatting or watching TV. But now..."
Annie finished the thought with, "She brought it on herself. And now I'm
so-so-so ready to get off. I mean, my husband and I had a quick one this
morning, but seeing Carla get her fanny smacked, and hearing her make all
those girly sounds while Denise was doing it, well, it got me wet all
over again." She thought of something and said, "Oh, darn. I didn't
clean up after he poked me. He shot a huge load and its still in there."
Carl got a sick look on his face. Perhaps now his wife would rescind her
permission for the pretty woman to use him.
But to his dismay, Tracy just shrugged and said, "Oh well, it'll be a
good experience for her. After all, she's an all-purpose kind of bedroom
slave. I mean, I don't just use her in the front. She has to worship my
ass, too. In fact, you should try that first, to get yourself even more
heated up."
Everyone laughed. Everyone except Carl. His face got as pale as his
bottom was pink. Annie brushed her hand against his hair to remove any
remaining snack salt from her palm. Then she snapped her fingers at him.
He slipped off Denise's lap awkwardly and straightened up, trying to hold
onto some shred of his dignity. Annie made that impossible as she
grabbed his ear and walked him toward the bedroom. His heels made his
bottom swish and he reflexively held his hands out slightly from his
sides, maintaining his feminine body language even in this upsetting
situation.
It was closer to an hour than a half hour later when Annie returned, a
fresh glow on her features. Carl followed on his hands and knees, which
she had told him to do. The satisfied woman took a theatrical bow and
there was more clapping. Poor Carl looked at his wife, who responded
with a smirk.
She said to the other women, "This opens up all sorts of possibilities
for our little get-togethers. Maybe we can have a friendly competition
of some sort and the winner gets 'An Hour in Heaven' with Carla. Or
there could be two winners. One to punish her and the other to enjoy her
talents in the bedroom."
Everyone appeared to like that idea. Denise mentioned using a wooden
kitchen spoon to smack the pansy husband's bottom the next time. One of
the women said she would enjoy teasing him sexually and then leaving him
frustrated, the way Tracy joked about doing. Another suggested having
him wash her in the shower after he served her with his mouth. It was
plain that they weren't going to run out of novel ways to punish,
tantalize and use him anytime soon. Carl could only stay where he was,
on hands and knees, his butt still colored from the spanking, the taste
of Annie (and her husband) strong in his mouth, and imagine how horrid it
was all going to be. His balls ached with unmet need. The women all
looked at him hungrily. He was going to have many more nights like this
one.
******
Jerry pranced into the den wearing nothing but panties covered in
colorful cartoon images, bright pink plastic bandages with kitties on
them over his nipples, and a smile. His wife was sitting there with two
beefy men he didn't recognize. It had been bad enough being dressed and
treated like a simpering sissy ever since their honeymoon. But what was
going to happen NOW?
She gave him a devilish smile and said, "Berry, dearest, I want you to
meet my new friends. And I hope they'll become your friends, too."
******
(Those poor pansy husbands. What ELSE would you like to see happen to
them?)
Kaylin
- 01.10.2021
- 15
- 0
