Bluffing free porn video

I had thought about this lots of times, trying to figure out how to get it done. Most of my ideas, after further thought, wouldn't really work. But with this one, I had looked at all the angles and decided it was very likely that it would achieve what I wanted. Still, it took a full three months for me to try to implement it. I waited until Deborah had left on one of her mini-business trips, four days of traveling looking for antiques, unique knick-knacks, and sightseeing. She had gotten into antiques and ran a little booth at a regional craft house. So she liked to go on buying sprees ever month or so, to maintain her stock. Those trips didn't appeal to me at all, so it did give us some time apart. After all, we had been married for 35 years now. Long enough to raise three daughters, get them married, and off on their own. Long enough to have careers and then retire. Long enough to make the house: a farm house style, set back from the road, with a great view, and private backyard, into the perfect home. We both loved our home, as it was big enough so we each had our own private space, had a great kitchen, spacious living room, a wonderful screened-in porch, but cozy enough to avoid being too big to take care of. That was part of my problem. After this many years together, I pretty much knew her, and she knew me. We got along fairly well for being married so long. There were disagreements of course, but mostly minor ones. The only major disagreement was my hobby. Well more honestly, my fetish. When I was young, even before I was a teenager, I became fascinated with women's clothes. I loved the feel, look, and style of them. Especially lingerie, stockings, and heels. At first it was more the tactile attraction of them, like the silky feel of nylon stockings. Plus, I think, the association of the clothes with my mother and older sister, both of whom I loved and adored. As I became a teenager, this fascination became an obsession, one that quickly developed sexual tones as I hit puberty. So I became a cross-dresser, slipping on some of their things when I could. The feelings always made me both excited and relaxed at the same time. When I went to college, I bought a few of my own clothes, so I could still experience those feelings. As I began to date, I sought out girls that like to dress very femininely. I made the assumption that if they loved pretty things so much, they might understand my desire for them. Most times, that was a bad assumption. Finally, that brought me to Deborah. We fell in love and I proposed. But not before I told her about my cross- dressing. I made it clear, I wasn't gay, didn't want to change sex, or wear women's clothes out in the world, but I did like to dress at home. She was stunned a bit by it, but vowed to try to understand. At first, she seemed okay with it, but soon she suggested I just do it by myself. Eventually, it became something she prefer I hide, and if it came up, she tried to talk me out of continuing to dress. She went so far as to tell me to keep my small collection of clothes hidden, so she'd not have to face the reality of it. Finally, she told me she'd prefer I not even dress at all, even if she was not around. To get rid of my hidden cache of clothes. Even the idea was too disturbing for her. For many years, I complied with her requests, but now I didn't want to. I felt like my desires were too strong to keep being put aside like that. That was the other part of the problem. I wanted to be able to dress more often. Now that the girls were gone, and it was just us two in the house, I wanted to dress up whenever I was home. To buy enough lovely clothes so I could have the wide range of outfits, lingerie, and shoes that I dreamed about. To play with cosmetics so I could become proficient at applying them and achieving a feminine look to my face. To grow my hair out long enough so I could style it, creating lovely curls, or waves, or wear bangs. But I knew this level of expression of my desires would not be acceptable to my wife. I knew she wouldn't like me being more open about it, keeping my clothes in my closet and dresser, letting my hair get longer, and most of all being dressed in front of her. I knew that would be repulsive to her, as she had told me it bothered her to think of me that way, let alone to see me that way. I couldn't imagine being open about my dressing in front of her without a negative reaction. I could leave her. That would give me the freedom to do as I pleased, in any way possible. In some ways that would be easy. I mean, we were still civil to each other, enjoyed each other's company, and had a certain rhythm together. But we had grown apart. It had been years since we had sex, and rarely even exchanged more than closed mouth kisses. I found it hard to pinpoint when, but at some point Deborah just didn't find sex stimulating any longer. Maybe it was because we were both older. I had heard women sometimes lose their libido as they age. So I guess I wasn't surprised that she stopped being intimate with me. I found I could go without intercourse, or fellatio. I still masturbated which satiated my sexual desires. The cessation of our sex did increase my desire to cross-dress. It also prompt me to look at other sexual fetishes. It might seem odd, since I wasn't having sex, but I found I enjoyed locking my cock up. I had a nice metal chastity cage that fit well and I spent time in it. So it wasn't the thought of leaving her, or giving up sex. What kept me from asking for a divorce was that it would likely mean giving up my home, the house that I had come to cherish. So my problem for me was to find a way to keep my home and dress as much as I wanted. I tried to think of every angle. I mean I could give her more money in the divorce settlement, but that would mean I likely couldn't afford to keep the house. I could try to trick her into thinking the house was infected by termites and it would be better to sell it than fix it. Then set up an auction, and have a friend secretly buy it for me. But that was way too complicated to actually work. I could tell her the bank foreclosed on it and tell her we had to move out. Although, I did most of our finances, I was pretty sure she knew our mortgage was paid off. I hoped that perhaps she would tire of the house, and all the housework it took to keep it up, and be happy to be free of me, but I didn't think that was true at all. At least the part about the house. Other ideas were even more farfetched, so out there, they weren't even worth remembering. After much thought, I decided to just be open about my dressing. I thought about how she felt about me wearing women's clothes. If I just started doing in in our home, making her face it daily, so she could not escape it or deny that I was doing it, then I could force her to make the decision that I couldn't. I could force her to leave the house to be rid of me and my irritating behavior. If I got her to move out to an apartment, and then file for divorce, she couldn't make me give up the house. True, I would have to give her half the value, but I had enough money for that. The only risk would be if she somehow tolerated my dressing enough to stay in the house, file her papers and contest it in court. What I would have to do, is be so outrageous about my dressing that it made her almost physically sick. Then she would have no choice but to leave. So with my plan in place, I started preparing for it. First, I went shopping. Yea! That was easy. I had dreamed of what I wanted for a long time. Most of the stuff I bought online and had shipped to a PO Box. I learned pretty quickly what my real sizes were in women's clothes, so I only had to return a few items. While I was preparing, I kept stuff hidden in part of the garage where Deborah wouldn't look. Since we had separate bank accounts as well as a shared joint account it was also easy to keep these purchases hidden. Whenever, Deborah left for a trip, I'd bring them out and spend 3 or 4 glorious days dressed up. I also practiced my makeup application and tried to do stuff with my hair. I did buy a wig, and it was better than nothing but I started letting my own hair grow out as well. Of course, I could only get it to a certain length, before she said something. But it was long enough for my plan. After a few months of getting my wardrobe together and becoming adequate at makeup, I felt I was ready to implement my plan. Deborah had left for her monthly buying trip. I brought out all my clothes and put them in my dresser and closet. I even packed up most of my male clothes, leaving only a few items that I could wear if I left the house. I bought a small vanity with mirrors so I could have an area in the bathroom to do my makeup and hair. With the house ready, I prepared myself. I shaved my legs, underarms, and chest, and polished my nails. These steps committed me to the plan. On the day Deborah was due home, I pondered over what to wear. I wanted it to be obvious, but not over the top. I had a couple of nice woman's dress pants and tops, but after reflecting they weren't enough. I finally decided on a nice dress, heels, and hose. Generally, she came home in the afternoon, so I usually had dinner in a slow-cooker ready for our evening meal. This time I would have the meal ready and greet her in my feminine finery when she arrived. I did my hair and makeup the best I could. I wore a pretty matching bra and panty, sheer black pantyhose, a color- block sheath dress in tan and black, and black pumps. The look was stylish, coordinated, and definitely feminine without being too dressy. I felt great but so nervous. I had to have a small glass of sherry to steel my nerves. Finally, I heard her SUV come up our driveway. Deborah came in through our mudroom, removing her coat and leaving her suitcase by the laundry. I was standing in the kitchen, preparing a salad to go with our meal. As she entered, she glanced my way, almost if by habit, and started to say hello, when she fully comprehended my new look. "William what the hell? What are you wearing? Oh my god, you look horrible. You know I didn't want you to continue to dress that way. Tell me this is a joke." "Welcome home Deborah. I know this is a shock to you and I'm sorry to spring it on you this way. But I've wanted to do this for a long time. I told you long ago that I enjoyed dressing like a woman. I've just decided I want to do it more often, and so I will be wearing pretty outfits like this whenever I'm at home. I figure it's my home too." The look on Deborah's face was a mixture of shock, hurt, anger and a little bit of curiosity. I could see her look me up and over, taking in every detail of my outfit. I nervously continued to make the salad, my bangle bracelets clinking softly as I chopped some carrots. That was the only sound in the room, for a second or so, as she took in my appearance. "Well, isn't that a radical change. I do apologize for my outburst. I mean, I am sickened by your appearance, but you really don't look horrible. Maybe that is what shocks me the most. You are relatively convincing in that get up. You obviously took time with your hair and face, and the dress is not inappropriate for your age and figure. But seeing your husband dressed like one of the ladies at my neighborhood bridge get together is just unnerving. How long have you been contemplating this?" "I have been dressing fairly often when you were gone on your business trips. It made me feel comfortable, happy, and actually relaxed. It also made me hate it when I put my stuff up before you came home. So I decided I would just keep my clothes, and accessories out all the time. But I won't take it further than our home. I just think you need to accept it or else, because I'm not bluffing about wearing what I want, when I want." I felt I had thrown down the gauntlet, and inwardly was a very pleased with her reaction. I could tell she felt disgusted seeing me in a dress. What made it worse, probably, for her, was I looked reasonable convincing as a woman. I had to feel her visual image of me was being shattered. Hopefully, seeing me this way and knowing I would be continuing would lead her to leave at some point. Deborah just shook her head, and left me to go change into something more relaxing. That night, we hardly spoke. She ate dinner with me, but left as soon it was finished to go to her den to work on her business I assumed. I put away the dishes, unloaded her suitcase, so I could run the laundry tomorrow and then went to change into something more relaxing myself. I had already planned on taking a shower, washing my hair, and putting it up in curlers. So afterwards, I put on one of my nighties and a robe. I went into the living room to watch television, and Deborah came out of her den to get a bottle of water. I wanted to cheer when she saw me. I could tell she was overwhelmed by how committed I was to my new appearance freedom. But this time, she said nothing, just shook her head no in a side-to-side motion. It was no surprise to me, that when I went to bed, she had chosen to sleep in the guest room. Inside, I felt like my plan was off to an excellent start. I continued my plan the next day. I styled my hair, did full makeup and put on a matching skirt and top. Of course I was wearing lingerie, hose and heels too. I had planned on doing some chores and maybe enjoying the nice weather, by having lunch on the screened-in porch. When Deborah came out of the guest room, she grabbed a cup of coffee but not acknowledging me at all. She went to our bedroom, got dressed, and came out. I could see her seething inside. I assume she saw all my clothes in the closet when she got dressed and was mad about it. Part of my plan, was to act as if this was normal for us and to just put it in her face as constantly as I could. So I intentionally spoke to her. "You have any plans for today? I need to do a few household chores but then can relax outside in the afternoon. It looks like it's going to be pretty all day." "William, you know I can't stand seeing you dressed like that, so I'll be gone all day. I need to take my purchases from the trip to my booth anyway. So you can expect me to be out until later." "Are you going to be back for dinner? I can make a nice roast if you want?" "No, I think I'll eat with Susan. She texted me that she would be at her booth today too." "Well, enjoy yourself." She again shook her head in a negative motion and left. It did pain me a little to be so mean to her, but I felt I needed to make it difficult on her if I wanted my plan to work. The rest of the day was nice and rather than a big meal, I just heated up a diet frozen meal. I still wanted to get a little trimmer if I could, so skipping a real meal would help. Deborah returned about 10 PM and with hardly a word, changed and went to bed. The next two weeks were very similar to that first day. She had moved some of her clothes into the spare room and we had very little contact. But I felt like it was being to settle into a routine, maybe even something she could adjust to. We spoke when we had meals or crossed paths in the morning or evening. Deborah had begun to assume I would do all the housework, and even gave me specific instructions for some items she put in the dirty clothes. So I decided to ramp up the pressure. I had a few lingerie items I hadn't shown off yet. Maybe seeing me that way, would make it even worse. I knew she had planned to stay at home tomorrow, as she had calls to make and the craft building was closed that day. Time to give her another shock, so she wouldn't feel comfortable. The next morning when I woke up, I took a shower and shaved my face, legs, and chest. I did my makeup and hair, going for an especially curly hair style that I felt was very feminine. I took my corset, in black satin, and slid it onto my body. I had only worn it a few times, as it was difficult for me to lace up. Even partially laced, it restricted my movements, but I felt it would be something that Deborah would hate seeing on me. It had built-in bra cups that with enough silicon padding gave me a small but noticeable cleavage. I clipped on black stockings to wear with it. To complete the outfit I had a stretchy panty that fit tightly around me. I was going to wear this lingerie with heels, but only a sheer robe on top. I also dug out my chastity cage to wear. When I had begun to explore my feminine side more frequently, I had also admitted I had an interest in submissive behavior. The cage was a perfect symbol for such submissive desires. I felt if she saw sexual toys like this, along with my lingerie, she would get even more disgusted. I had worn the cage several times, even keeping it on a full day before. That was my plan today. The outline was easily visible through my tiny panty, so I wanted her to have to confront that image as well as my sexually-charged lingerie. So, I was ready when she came into the kitchen for her coffee and bagel. She stopped in her tracks when she saw me. "Aren't you cute this morning? I can't believe what you're wearing. I didn't even know regular people wore something like that. I thought corsets were for hookers, costume parties, or lingerie models. Are you going to a party later? Or have you chosen to make a few extra dollars in your fairy costume? Oh my word, what is that in your panties?" I smiled. I could tell my look was having the desired effect. The disgust and aggravation were written all over her face. I could almost feel the house becoming all mine as she looked at me. "Oh that, it is just something I like to do. It's called a chastity cage. It keeps me soft and prevents an erection. Sometimes, I feel like I need to keep myself in check, if you know what I mean. It seems to be the perfect accessory to my corset. And no, I'm not a hooker or going to a party. I just feel like I should be able to wear whatever I want, whenever I want. I'm in my home, so I can do what I want." "I don't even know you anymore William. Why on earth would a man want to put something like that on his privates? We haven't had sex in a long time, does that mean you have a girlfriend you're keeping from me? Or is it a boyfriend now?" "Ha, you are so funny Deborah. Truthfully, it just makes me feel sexy. But if I did have someone else, I wouldn't keep it from you. That's now my style. As you can see, I intend to be upfront about everything I want from now on. You need to understand I'm not just playing around with my new wardrobe. I intend to wear clothes and lingerie like this all the time at home. Even sexual toys, like this cage, if I want. So you need to adjust to my new lifestyle or figure out something else, because I'm not bluffing." Deborah looked at me, as if I were crazy, or more accurately like I was a stranger. I could tell this move was pushing all the buttons for her. She must have begun to get used to my look, but seeing me like this, made her realize that I was going to flaunt my new feminized style so much that she would never be comfortable. Grabbing her bagel and coffee she retreated to the porch. I made a point that morning of sashaying around, being very visible and trying my best to aggravate her. Finally, she couldn't take it any longer and left. I was beginning to finally feel I was cracking her resolve. By the time she returned, I had removed the corset and chastity cage, slipping into one of my tiny baby-doll nighties. "What's the matter William, can't you stand being locked up very long? I thought the idea of a chastity cage was too deny the wearer any relief. Seems like that is too much for you." "No, it's not too difficult to wear it for as long as I want. It's just that I make the rules, and if I wanted to wear it longer I would." "It just doesn't look that way to me. I mean, even if it is just a sexual toy, isn't the usual way to give the key to someone else? Have someone hold the key, so you can't just take it off? But it is your toy. Do as you wish. But you do need to think about your presentation however. It looked really sloppy, seeing the cage half-buried in your pubic hair. But whatever, it's your choice. I'm going to bed, I can't stand seeing you like this anyway. Good night." Inside I was rejoicing. I could feel Deborah's resolve starting to crack. I amped up the pressure over the next few weeks and she reacted more negatively almost every day. I could tell she wasn't going to take this much longer. The timing of her next buying trip was just at the point where she needed a break. I felt like this would be a great contrast for her. Out on her own, without having to see my feminized persona, she might realize how better it would be if she were gone. Her parting message, which she left on my voice mail box, confirmed my feeling. "William, I'm going to be gone an extra couple of days. I need a break from you. I find it hard to see you dressed like a woman all the time. It makes me realize you aren't the man I married anymore and you certainly don't seem to care how I feel about it. You seem happier playing like a girl than being my husband. We will just have to make some changes for sure when I return. I can't see our marriage continuing like this. So think about it and we'll talk when I get back. By the way, if you are really serious about all this and especially that silly chastity toy, you need to do a better job at removing your body hair. You leave too much on, like the fuzz on your back and your hairy arms, to look like a girl. Plus you would find your toy would look far better if it was on smooth skin. I took the liberty of making an appointment for you, on Wednesday, at my salon. I booked a full body waxing, so you can be as smooth as you dare. Of course, if this is too much for you, I'd understand. It would confirm that this is more of a phase you're going through than a real life change." I had to play the message three times, so I could hear all the subtleties hidden in her message. It was obvious she was doing more than hinting at divorce. Deborah left little doubt that she had reached her limit and we would be separating for good. But she had also thrown a challenge at me, suggesting that my failure to be more open about how I was looking now, reflected on my true desire to dress as a woman. Although it was scary, I knew I needed to prove her wrong and keep that waxing appointment so that when she returned I would be smooth all over. I prepared the next few days for my fateful appointment. Of course, I had immediately looked at myself, checking my body to see if indeed her criticism of my appearance was accurate. It was. I had never really noticed how much hair I had all over my body. I could see how having it removed would indeed improve my feminine appearance. The same with my pubic hair. I tried on the cage, and once I saw how the bushy look, negated much of the erotic appeal of the steel cage, I had to agree with her. I decided I had to accept her challenge even if it might be embarrassing at the time. I was also surprised that with Deborah gone, now that I was open about my dressing, that I missed her being at home. Before I had come out to her, I cherished her trips, as they gave me time to focus on being more feminine. Now that I was able to do that constantly, her absence was more noticeable. Even though our interactions had rarely been positive, it was lonely in this big house by myself. Plus, she gave me more to do when she was here. It hadn't escaped her notice that I was now, unprompted, doing all the housework. After all our years of married life where she had been responsible for these chores, I imagine she enjoyed passing the responsibility onto someone else. I know she certainly had no reservations on directing my work, or critiquing my efforts. For example, she seemed to breeze through clothes now, leaving them helter-skelter on the floor throughout the house for me to pick up and launder. Now, she never took her dirty dishes to the kitchen or put things away. Deborah had spent some time, when she saw that I was doing our clothes now, providing me detailed instructions on how to clean her lingerie, what clothing required ironing, and even how often to polish her shoes. At the time, I was aggravated by her demeanor and arrogance at treating me like a domestic. But I also felt more complete in my feminine role, as I acquired more skills associated with women in our society. Similar guidance and pressure was applied to almost all of the household duties, so that when she was gone I actually missed it. But given my choices, I could live with her absence, if it meant I was finally free to dress and act as I had always dreamed of doing. Finally Wednesday arrived, and I left to go to the salon for my waxing. I had agonized over how to dress for the event, but finally settled on a pair of women's jeans, a button-up blouse, and the only pair of flat shoes I owned. I was wearing panties, but they were the least decorative and most neutral color pair I owned. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail and left off my makeup. My heart raced as I drove to her salon, and my mind was full of all sorts of devious tricks and schemes that Deborah might have planned for my visit. But once I checked in, the receptionist and even the technician were quite pleasant. Both told me they had multiple men who were regular waxing customers, as many of the younger guys preferred smooth chests. She even told me that pubic hair removal was the second most requested area for her male customers. So by the time I left, I was both silky smooth and inwardly very happy with my new look. Pulling into my driveway, I was surprised as Deborah's car was parked next to the house. I wasn't expecting her to be home for a few more days, but I was a little glad to see her. I wanted to show off my new smooth body, as proof that I was serious about my recently expressed femininity. Entering my house, I looked for her. I noticed right away that she had left her suitcase in the laundry room for me to unpack and clean her things. I should have been mad at her presumptions, but again I looked forward to doing the chores for her. Finally, I heard her upstairs so I went to my bedroom. She was standing there, obviously waiting for me. "Hmm, can I assume you kept your appointment?" "Yes, yes I did." "Well?" "Well what?" "Well what are you waiting for? Strip. I want to see if you look any better." I was both pleased and shocked at Deborah's reaction. Before she had little interest in anything I did in a feminine way. But now she seemed genuinely excited to see how I had changed after the waxing. At the same time, her demanding tone definitely tweaked my pride. It was as if she assumed I would do as she told me to do. Much like doing her laundry, or assuming all the housework, this mix of interest and expectation fueled my secret fantasies, in a way that she no longer did in a vanilla sexual interaction. I hesitated only a moment, before beginning to remove my clothes. When I peeled off my panties, to stand completely nude in front of her, a light blush washed over me. I watched her look me over, and had to restrain my urge to put my hands over my now naked cock and balls. The technician had discussed common looks for men who had their genitals waxed, most didn't appeal to me. But when she said that occasionally a man would adopt the landing strip, a style that was more popular for women, I liked that. So now, I stood before Deborah, my genitals soft, bare, and relatively small from the cool air of the room. Starting at an inch or so above the base of my cock was a thick, but narrow strip of hair, sort of an exclamation point with my cock as the dot. I had never worried about my size or ability to please Deborah with my cock. She always was appreciative of my efforts in sex. But now I seemed a bit embarrassed by how it looked. So gentle, soft, and docile. If she thought it wasn't what it once was, Deborah never mentioned it. Instead, she moved to the nightstand. Opening the top drawer, she removed my chastity cage. Like my feminine items, I had intentionally left my cage in an accessible location. I had wanted to make it clear to her that my interests and desires would no longer be hidden. Still I was quite surprised that she had taken it out. Deborah turned to face me. "Let's see how your cage looks now. I bet you'll like how this looks much, much better." I didn't know what to say or do. She approached me, not waiting for a response. She turned the key to release the small inner part of the locking mechanism. She then separated the cage from the thick ring. I was totally caught off guard by this willingness to participate in my erotic role-play. As she put her hand around my cock and balls they involuntarily twitched. It had been a long time since she had touched me there. But Deborah moved swiftly, not letting my reaction to her touch translate into an increase in size. She deftly slipped the ring over my balls, pulling them through the solid ring, one by one. Then she wiggled my cock through as well. At his point, it was being to enlarge but she placed the cage over my cock head compressing it back into itself as she pushed the cage so it would interlock with the ring. With everything lined up, she put the lock in placed, turned the key, and removed it. As she grinned at me, she lightly jostled the cage as she released it from her hands. "There take a look at that. I think you'll agree it looks much better now." She turned me so I was facing the wall mirror. I immediately looked at my caged cock. It was indeed more impressive. Not being hidden by my pubic hair allowed the cage to be fully visible, with my cock trapped inside, skin pressed against the bars, and my balls squeezed between the ring and the cage. The overall image was impactful in a very submissive way. It also reinforced my relative small size. As I was looking at my image, I heard Deborah opening one of my dresser drawers. I turned to see she had taken out my corset. "I imagine you'll want to wear stockings with your new look. Let me help you put this on and then you can attach your hose to this. I know you've shaved your legs before, but the waxing will make them so much smoother, you'll be amazed." Again I was startled by how engaged Deborah was in my appearance. I felt a surge of excitement with some confusion because she seemed to be excited about seeing me with my newfound hairless condition. I took the corset from her, stepped into it, and carefully guided it up my body, past my now imprisoned cock. "Have you ever used these pads with your corset?" I looked over at Deborah. She was holding a pair of my silicone breast pads. Normally I put them in one of my small cup bras, but I never thought to try them with my corset. "No, not really." "Slip them in, under each breast, then when we tighten the laces it should help give you more cleavage." I took the pads and slipped them into the cups of the bra. As I settled the corset into place, with the cups against my small breasts and the bottom just above the narrow landing strip of pubic hair I had left, I reached behind myself to find the laces. But before I found them, Deborah took the reins, one in each hand. "William, let me help you with that. I noticed the last time, that you hadn't really tightened your corset very well. It seems to me, that these things require some assistance to get them right. Since you showed your commitment to being girly by getting your body waxed, let me help you get this done as well. You focus on keeping your breast pads in place." Not waiting for me to reply, Deborah began to pull on the laces of the corset. I immediately felt the corset tighten around me, with most of the emphasis on the waist. After pulling the laces in the middle, she reached up and began to individually pull, and tug on the laces at the top and then repeated it at the bottom of the corset. She then worked the extra lace through each of the eyes lining the back of the corset until once again, she was able to tug the center laces. Deborah repeated these steps several times, until I was beginning to feel squeezed tighter than I ever had before. It was getting so tight, it was a little difficult to breathe, forcing me to take small breaths. "Deborah, thanks for helping but I think that is tight enough. I can barely breathe." "Oh William, it just seems that way because you haven't had time to adjust to it. Tell you what, I'll do one more round and then you can see how that is. By the way, it makes a big difference in your appearance. Your waist looks so small now, which helps both your hips and bust. I guess I never realized how you have such a naturally feminine curve to your body. The corset just seems to emphasize that." So despite my mild protest, Deborah tightened up my corset laces once more. I was forced to take small breaths, but after she tied the laces around my waist and I got a chance to see my profile in the mirror, I felt better. I mean she was right about how my figure looked more feminine. I had a real hourglass shape. Adding the pads forced almost all of my extra chest fat up so that I had realistic looking cleavage and breast curves. With each minute, I became more used to the changes in breathing, but I could tell the tight, restrictive feeling would be bothersome after a few hours. I also hated to admit it, but seeing my caged cock below the restrictive corset really flamed my submissive urges. "William I see you like your new look. You are quite a sight. But enough of that. I think you will find that it won't take long to adjust to your new corset. Why don't you sit down at your vanity, do your makeup and hair. That will allow you some time to become acclimated to the restrictive nature of your foundation." I nodded my agreement and sat down. It was a little uncomfortable sitting, but if I kept a very upright posture, it was bearable. I was shaking from excitement about my new more feminine figure and wanted to try on one of my tight clinging dresses to see how my new shape looked. So I worked quickly but carefully until I had a full face done, with thick false lashes, smoky eyes, deep red lips and blushed cheeks. I only needed to use the curling iron to create loose curls to drape around my face to finish my look. I was just about done, applying the last coat of lip gloss, when Deborah came back into the bedroom. "All done? You look quite the girl with those lashes and pouty lips. I guess that's what you want though isn't it? In any case, I have a small gift for you. I realized how hateful I have been lately, which was quite unnecessary, so please take this as an apology." Now I was completely stunned. This was such a turnaround from her earlier attitude. I took a small box she was holding and opened it. Inside was a lovely thong: sheer black, trimmed in white scalloped lace with a small white bow in the back. There were also a pair of black lace-top stockings featuring a white ribbon run through the lace of each stocking and a white seam that ran up the back. They were lovely and very sexy. They all felt silky smooth. "Go on try them on. I think you'll really see why you've got to keep your body waxed once you're put these on. I can help, if it is hard for you to bend over in your corset." It was a bit difficult to bend over, so Deborah held the thong out for me to step in and then worked it up my legs, before snuggling it into my crack and around my caged cock. Looking in the mirror, you could still see my chastity device, but it seemed highlighted now by the white scalloping. While I was admiring this look, Deborah rolled the first stocking into a small ball and held it down so I could put my toe into it. She only brought it up as far as my calf before letting me pull and stretch it further up my leg. By the time I had it snapped into the garters hanging from my corset, I had been stroked by how smooth the nylon felt against my bare leg. She might be right, that I would stayed waxed from now on. After I had the second stocking hooked up, I had to pivot back and forth in front of my mirror, admiring the sexy mix of sheer black and white trim on my new thong and hose. Deborah finally spoke up and broke through my trance. "I thought you'd like those. Very pretty, aren't they? You know when you first flaunted your new look in front of me, I was shocked and hurt. But as I suffered though these past few weeks, I came to appreciate your desires. It also wasn't lost on me how you'd taken over all the household chores, leaving me free of that responsibility for the first time in our marriage. I had to admit, although I found your new look disgusting, I did enjoy having you be so helpful. So that's when I noticed you had lots of feminine clothes, outfits, and dresses, but you seemed to be missing something very important. So I want you to go look in the spare room. You'll find what you were missing on the bed." Deborah turned away at that moment and went downstairs. I was surprised and eager to see what she was referring to, so I went to the guest bedroom. She had been sleeping here since I came out and had moved some of her items in here. As I entered now, I could see those things were gone. On the bed was a short dress bag and on the floor next to the bed were a pair of black patent pumps with a white heel and white bow on the toe. I excitedly unzipped the bag, and took out the outfit on its padded hanger. I was both surprised and embarrassed by it. I should have seen it coming, given the accessories she had given me earlier as well as her comments about my housework. Hanging there was a small maid's outfit, complete with a hair band and half-apron. It wasn't a real uniform, more like a sexy lingerie version. I could tell right away that the thong had been part of the set. But even though it seemed like a backhanded compliment, I was eager to put it on. I took the dress off the hanger and stepped into it gingerly because of how restrictive the corset was. The dress was short. After I worked it up my body I could tell that it was designed to show off the thong, not hide it. I reached around to zip up the back and hook the halter top behind my neck. It fit very snug around me, molding to my corseted body. I couldn't have closed the zipper without being as tightly laced as I was. The top was black satin, with a deep v-neckline that revealed my pushed up boy breasts. The skirt part was flared, with pleating and a small attached crinoline that help hold the skirt away from my body. I was visibly shaking as I tied the apron around the waist. Again this was more for show, as it was short, sheer white, with a scalloped edge that matched the trim on my panty. I slipped on the heels and made my way back to my bedroom, so I could see how it looked in the mirror. My reflection showed what I expected. A very sexy look. The small dress was form fitted to me, hugging my new small waist and revealing my uplifted bosom. The way the skirt flared out gave me both the look of larger hips plus the short length showed off my caged cock through the sheer panty and the garters from my corset attached to my hose. The way the white ribbon in the lace top of my stockings and the white back seam coordinated with the maid's dress and apron, was perfect. I had to give it to Deborah. She had found a very sexy, if impractical look for me. Her choice of a sexy domestic uniform for me created a wave of emotions. First I was thrilled at how sexy it was, although in a somewhat demeaning way. Second, I was a little angry at her for assuming that I would wear such a dismissive outfit. Finally, I was embarrassed at how the total outfit fueled my submissive needs and narcissistic desires to show off my femininity and my imprisoned cock. But what made me most concerned was how this made me look to Deborah. Had she assumed this look was what I wanted? That I would be this open to demonstrating my inner feelings, if she was accurate in her assessment? My pride was being torn. I truly felt I looked sexy. But I knew this was the kind of outfit that signaled a complete abandonment of my male self. Was that what I wanted? So as much as I liked the look and how willing she had been in helping me achieve it, I felt I needed to talk with her about my feminine expressions. After I showed her how I looked. I took the white lace hair band, worked it into my curls, touched up my mascara and gloss and went to find her downstairs. Descending the stairs and walking around trying to locate her, made me realize how really constrictive my corset was. Her tight lacing impacted my breathing so much, that even that small amount of exertion winded me. I would have to have her loosen my laces after our talk. I finally found her on the screened in porch. She was sitting in her usual chair, glancing over the paper. The loud click of my heels on the tile floor announced my presence. But she waited a second before looking up from the paper. The pause was enough to make me feel even more awkward than I had before. The act of looking for her, walking around the house as if I were a trained domestic seeking the lady of the house had emphasized to me how demeaning this attire really was. Before when I strolled around in a normal dress and heels, I felt in control, as this was my house. But in this uniform, sexy and revealing all my weaknesses, I felt so submissive and unworthy. So having Deborah act her part as she did, struck all my nerves, including making my cock twitch in its metal prison. "There you are William. Don't you look delicious! I bet you've dreamed of such a pretty little uniform? Such the perfect little French Maid. So sexy, desirable, and obviously under control. But I can't bring myself to call you by your boy name any longer. I mean William doesn't suit you at all anymore don't you agree? How about a new, more appropriate name. I had a good friend in college, a sweet girl who was my little sister in our sorority. She was so helpful, willing to do whatever I asked of her. So, in her honor I'm going to christen you Amy. Spin around Amy and let me see the whole package." I was again torn between the emotion of loving how she described my look as sexy and hating her connotation of me as a maid. Plus the idea of me using a feminine name both attracted and repelled me. It wasn't lost on me that the girl from whom she had chosen my name, was in a submissive and obedient role. But I did as she asked. Slowly rotating on the balls of my feet, lifting the heels of my pumps off the floor enough to allow me to spin. I had reflectively grabbed the hem of my skirt, at the sides, as I rotated. When I had gone a full 360 degrees to face her again, I was ready to talk with her about her gifts. "I don't think I could have done better if I had you there to try on your little uniform yourself. Don't you agree? I know it's a bit silly looking, in reality. I mean a real maid couldn't do her work dressed like that. So I did buy you a couple of more realistic uniforms, more practical, although I think they are likely short enough and low cut enough that you'll love them too. Of course, the corset will be needed for those as well. I think once we get you going full bore on your waist training, that we will need to supplement that one with a couple more so you can switch out. But his outfit is just right for showing you off, or maybe better yet breaking you in. I know Reggie will love it. It's just his cup of tea." I was flabbergasted now. Deborah talked as if she was making me her maid permanently. I had no desire to fill that role. Just the idea that somehow she was agreeable to my new appearance, provided I follow her directives was surprising. Plus, what's this about waist training and other uniforms? I had to ask what she meant. And who the hell was 'Reggie'? "Deborah, I don't understand. I think you've got the wrong idea about this. I do like to dress and even something like this could be enjoyable under the right circumstances, but I have no desire to be a maid full- time in my own house. As far as waist training, I'm ready to loosen the corset already. Plus who is Reggie? I don't recognize that name." "Oh that's quire alright, you'll adjust soon enough. It's true, you've not met Reggie yet. He's my boyfriend, or may be more accurately my lover. I'm a bit too mature for a boyfriend. You didn't really think I needed to shop four to five days every month for that little booth did you? Of course you did. You never took the time to come by to see it or find out about my little hobby at all did you? But Reggie knows about it. He's in the same line of work. I met him about a year ago on one of my trips to the coast. He was going to some of the same suppliers that I was going to see. We were seeing each other so frequently that we struck up a conversation. He asked me to dinner, and we had a wonderful time. Of course, at first it was just a friendly relationship, not that he didn't try to make it more almost from the start. I refused and wanted to keep him as a friend only. But sometime about the third or fourth trip, I gave in and we had sex in his room. What great sex it was too. He is a wonderful lover, kind, attentive, very skilled, and attuned to a woman's desires. He pushed all the buttons that night for me. Made me feel so desirable, something you gave up on years ago. In fact he was exactly the kind of lover that you weren't. Not that physically there is much difference. He's about the same length as you, but he is thicker. His overall frame is bigger too. I guess he's about six two, probably 200 pounds, with a broad, flat chest and quite hairy. Yes, he is so different than you. His hair has a salt and pepper look, appropriate for his age. Not that cute honey blonde you like to make yours. He's natural in almost every way. So it was easy to fall into a nice routine with him. We'd get together, spend the first day shopping and looking for our business needs. Then the rest of the time, we'd enjoy ourselves. Sightseeing, going out to movies, dinners, even dancing. All the things you no longer enjoyed doing with me. Including of course, sex. He's quite insatiable when it comes to fucking. I suspect he might use some of those little blue pills to enhance his performance, but in any case it was more how he treated me than anything. We were quite content to keep it at our current level, and continue our regular lives untouched. But then you upset the apple cart. When I came home that first night and saw you dressed up, I was absolutely stunned. I had no idea you had resumed your little fetish. But what really floored me was how extensively you had embraced it. Even casually dressed, you looked very convincing. So feminine, in both appearance and behavior. That's what made me so mad. It was as if you had purposely abandoned your masculinity and abdicated your role as my husband. That was clear the longer I interacted with you. I was positive that you were never going back to being a man, at least a real man. Your little display with the chastity cage confirmed that. But I couldn't quite understand why you did it this way. It was as if you were trying to make me mad or punish me, or drive me away. I briefly considered that you had somehow found out about my lover, but ruled that out after a few quick checks. So I remained confused until I talked with Reggie about it. It was a mystery to him as well. But in talking about it, how you sprung it on me, your tone, and obvious defiance, it became clear to me what you were doing and why. Reggie had made me see what was most important to you was not me any longer, but the house. I knew you still loved the house and wouldn't give it up, or let me have it, if you could avoid it in any way. Once I understood that, then the rest of your behavior and actions made sense. You knew when you started that I found even the idea of you wearing women's clothes as repulsive. But you flaunted it in front of me, anyway. I could see that you were trying to force me to leave and in doing so, let you keep the house. If it was just the dressing you would have asked for a divorce. I mean we've lived as roommates more than husband and wife for a long time now. So that would have been so much easier and honestly, nicer. I knew deep down, you weren't suddenly a mean, hateful person. Only your desire to keep the house would make you behave so rudely, as it was totally out of character for you. But to be honest, once I figured out your reason why, I had no desire to go along. I too love this house. It is especially perfect for me, the solitude, relaxation, and comfort it provides, now that I have a more exciting time with Reggie. Being so active with him, only confirmed my desire to keep this wonderful home base. So, once I decided to keep it, Reggie and I hatched a plan to keep it mine and keep you as well. You see Reggie has a few interests that I don't. Nothing as different as you have, but still outside of my sphere of enjoyment. One of those, is his penchant for domination. I mean, we played at it once, but it was clear that it was awkward for me and he saw that I was not a submissive personality. You, on the other hand, are. It was not just the chastity cage that demonstrated that, but it was a big part of it. Why do you think it was so easy for me to put you in this submissive maid costume? And more importantly than getting you in it, was the ability to keep you in it." At this point, I was numb. How could I have been so clueless? I had no inkling that she was having an affair. Deborah's description of it, her lover, and my attitude toward her stung me to the core. Mostly, because she was accurate about it all. Honestly, I didn't really mind her having sex with another man, as she said, I had quit that long ago. It was just that I was being so na?ve. How could I have not seen what was going on, and now what she had planned to do? But my thoughts were rudely interrupted. Because she had raised her right hand from her lap, unfolded it to show me, a set of keys, hanging from her fingers. I recognized them at once. They were the keys to my chastity cage. In my hurry to see how it looked on me, I had paid no attention to what Deborah had done with the keys after she helped put it on me. She had coerced me into the corset so quickly and smoothly, that the keys were lost from my mind in seconds. She had then led me, as easily if I had a ring through my nose, into this completely feminine and totally submissive outfit. I felt my knees buckle and my face warm, as the intensity of my embarrassment and shame washed over me. I was just beginning to think of what I could do when I heard the doorbell. It rang loudly and clearly. I looked at her with panic. Deborah just smiled at me, calmly, as if this was no surprise. "That must be Reggie. I called him after I left you to finish dressing. He is here to claim his place as the man of the house. He knows you have given up that role, and knows I will accept him as your replacement. Not that he will live here or anything. But it will be nice to have him visit here occasionally. I've often thought how nice it would be to have sex with him in my own bed. First things first however. The main purpose of his visit this weekend, is to begin to break you in as our own domestic. Reggie's really excited about this opportunity to mold and shape a submissive. He told me he'd only role played that before, but the idea of completely training my husband to be our fawning, obedient servant is something special. Plus, I think it will stoke his ego to cuckold you as well. I'd suggest you hurry Amy and let him in. I wouldn't want him to be mad at you from the start." "Deborah, you can't be serious. This can't be real. Why would you think this is something I'd agree to participate in? Surely you know me better than that. What makes you think I want to be seen like this by another man?" "I do know you well. Better than you know yourself. I have no doubt that once Reggie takes over, you'll love being Amy for him. Besides, this is more about me than you. I saw how nice it was to have you assume the housekeeper role for me. I could completely enjoy my house, as well as my lover, and have you do all the dirty work to keep it perfect. That's why I agreed to let Reggie break you in for me. He will succeed of course. I suggest you obey him completely. I know from my own experience with him, that he loves the idea of spanking and even whipping, a disobedient girl. You are certainly girl enough for him. Plus, I assume he will want to keep the key to your cage, while he is training you. So you'll need to be sure to please him whatever it takes, if you ever wish to fulfill your own sexual lust again." She was interrupted again by the doorbell. The loud ring, and my startled reaction to it made her laugh. I could tell she saw how frightened I was. "I wouldn't keep him waiting. I suspect he'd love an excuse to punish you right away. You know I'm being serious, don't you? You know I'm not bluffing, don't you? In any case I suggest you scurry to the door as fast you can. Every second counts now Amy." I swallowed instinctively, as my lips, mouth, and throat had gone dry. I was as scared and panicked as I had ever been. But I also knew she wasn't bluffing and I would have to go open the door as quickly as I could. Turning to leave, I felt my legs shaking and my insides were all scrambled by fear. But I also felt my cock twitch as it swelled to press tightly against the metal bars of my cage, getting as big as could in its small enclosure. I knew instinctively that my world had suddenly changed and as much as I wanted to protest the change, my cock betrayed my true feelings. As I hurried across the living room, I felt how tight the corset was, as my breathing was instantly labored. I hadn't gotten Deborah to loosen the lacing and again I realized that this would be my new normal. Looking around, I took in my surroundings, the lovely house that I just had to keep. Reaching the door, I straightened my uniform, as I needed to be as presentable as possible to the new 'Lord of the Manor'. Although this is not how I envisioned it playing out, it was true that neither Deborah nor I were bluffing about our positions. I was going to wear women's clothes, openly and at all times in my house, but she was also going to install a new man in her house as well and have him train me to be the housemaid. I reached down, at the last moment, as I had to adjust my swelling cock in its cage to be sure my pretty panty had it covered. The way it looked, I knew I couldn't bluff Reggie about how excited I really was to learn my new role.