Marital Bliss For One free porn video

MARITAL BLISS FOR ONE After three years of marriage Frank Derby and his wife Tracy decided that they'd fallen into a bit of a rut. They still had regular sex, at least twice at weekends, and maybe a couple of times during the week, which they decided wasn't bad for a married couple of their age, approaching thirty, but they decided they needed something to liven them up. He wanted blow jobs from his wife, but she couldn't stand the thought of 'that stuff' shooting into her mouth. Tracy thought she would like receiving oral from Frank, but he wasn't altogether made up by the idea, but because he didn't want to, she realised that was what was exciting her. It wasn't the oral sex itself, it was the thought of domination, making him do it for her, that got her juices running, but she felt she couldn't actually tell him that. Despite the pressures of her work, she was National Sales Manager for an international company selling hospital equipment, she found time to do a little web browsing for ideas. A site caught her eye that suggested a way to force the husband to provide oral stimulation to their wife. Feminisation as the first stage, was suggested. It was based on the idea of first persuading the man to take the wife's role, making the man move to a submissive frame of mind, open to suggestions. As much as the idea of having him perform cunnilingus was attractive, it was confirmation that what she really wanted was to be a dominant woman with a submissive husband, doing as she ordered. She was very taken with this idea, especially because Frank was already half way there. His work was as a freelance computer trouble shooter who worked from home, so he had the disadvantage of perhaps getting a call in the middle of the night, but he had remote access to his clients' machines, so he didn't need to go out. He only had four clients, but they all paid him a retainer, which meant that they had a well qualified specialist available, without having to pay a full time salary. They had to pay him extra if he worked over a certain number of hours for any one of them, but he was so good at his job that the extra payments usually only kicked in when they were changing systems, or something new turned up. His work naturally varied from going a week or two with no calls, to perhaps spending a couple of days on a particularly complicated problem and then two others coming in at the same time. The result of all this was that he did most of the housework, was quite an accomplished cook and knew what washing was treated in different ways, doing it correctly. "Darling," Tracy broached the subject carefully, "I've been doing a bit of research on line, on ways to spice up our lives, and I found something that really turns me on. The trouble is I'm not sure you would try it." "You know I'm always willing to try new things, my love, what did you have in mind?" "Well, first of all I've got to say that I got all wet, looking at this idea, but you have to happily agree, or we won't do it. It's all about a wife dressing her husband up." "That doesn't sound a problem," Frank was trying to be receptive, "what is it some sort of costume, like a policeman or a fire fighter?" "No, that's the problem, it's dressing you up and making you look like a woman." She looked wide eyed at him, in a way he found it very difficult to resist. "I don't know, darling, I mean I don't have much of a figure for a woman, I know I'm not tall, but I still have a masculine looking face." He wasn't at all struck on the plan, it raised some buried demons, but also, as a loving husband, he didn't want to raise her expectations. "But your hair's long, you pull it into a pony tail now, would you be willing to try it, just for me?" "If it means that much to you, I'm game, but I think that I'll just look stupid." So, the die was cast and Tracy did more research. She realised that it was important to do it completely and correctly the very first time, because her husband shouldn't have any excuse to back out. As a result, she ordered a cache sex to hide his bits, a corset, but not one too uncomfortable, a padded panty girdle and a top of the range pair of adhesive fitted breasts. After pondering a little on size, she decided on a pair that would give him a 'C' cup, reasoning that he might baulk at bigger ones. The same with the shoes, which she decided should only have a three inch heel, even though she looked at five or even six inch heels that could be locked on. Again, for the dress, she really wanted to dress him as a French maid, but erred on the side of caution, and bought a very stylish turquoise cocktail dress that she could match with the shoes. Likewise, she bought him a very fetching nightgown, but also a baby doll, to wear if he did turn out to be adventurous. They decided that the 'game' would start on Saturday morning, and Tracy got her husband's agreement to invite a friend, who was also a nurse in an accident recovery department, to call over. She persuaded him that, being a health professional, she was absolutely discrete and she had experience teaching, mainly female accident victims, how to use make up to disguise scars. As she advised them, they depilated his body to ensure he was hair free, before she got to work on him. Angela arrived promptly as arranged at nine in the morning, and started by washing his hair. "The secret of changing your looks is to first feel good about yourself, Frank." She explained. "That nearly always starts with the hair. I'm not going to do a great deal to it, you have a beautiful full head, but it needs a little bounce and lift. I'm going to use a very mild permanent which will do just that, but when you're in man mode, you can just pull it back into the low pony tail and no one will see the difference." She curled his hair in large rollers, sprayed it with a foul smelling liquid, then placed a plastic drying cap, over his head, connected to Tracy's hair drier. While that was doing its job she moved on to other things, explaining what she was doing all the time. "Another thing that makes everyone feel good is a manicure and pedicure. As a man I would only brush on nail strengtheners that wouldn't show, but for this little experiment, I'm using a bright red polish, and we'll glue false nails on your hands that will make you feel more feminine. I want to emphasise that with the exception of the perm, which I've explained, everything I'm doing is completely and fairly quickly removable. With your permission though I would like to just tidy up your eyebrows. They will take a time to regrow, but I'll keep the pruning down to an acceptable level for a man to be seen with, OK?" Frank agreed as she had quickly gained his trust by being so straightforward with him. Neither did she make fun, or in any way try to humiliate him, so inevitably he liked her friendly attitude. Her next move was to use the various cosmetics on his face, explaining as she went along, and even wiping it off from time to time so that he could try to get the same effect himself. As she worked the memories came flooding back, but he pushed back on them, he didn't want to spoil Tracy's day. The lipstick, which tasted so distinctive, was a red that matched his nails. When that was complete, she turned him away from Tracy's vanity mirror that they had been using, brushed out his hair and helped him dress. Pushing his penis back and his balls up into his body, felt strange but not painful but was necessary to fit into something called a cache sex, a garment to hide his 'bits'. He didn't much like the tightness of the panty girdle that had extra padding for his hips and bum and had garters, nor was keen when his breasts were glued on. But the feel of the stockings, and the other silky garments, including the bra, on his hairless body, meant that a little discomfort was nothing compared to his upset that the memories were bringing him. His only comfort was the knowledge that, now he was a grown man, he would look ridiculous, so be released from his promise.. The material of the dress he found strangely erotic, but the shoes were not as difficult or uncomfortable to manage as he had feared. Tracy was waiting with baited breath, as they stood him in front of his wardrobe, then opened it to show his reflection in the mirror on the inside of the door. "My God!" he exclaimed. "That's awful. How on Earth have you managed this? I look like a woman. He started crying." Both the women were taken by surprise by his reaction, which was so much more dramatic than they had anticipated. What they didn't know was that when he was a youngster, Frank had been forced to wear girls' clothes. When he was about eight, a girl at his school had a get together with other girls and had invited him along. Because he was such a nice boy, who didn't pull their pigtails, or try to look up their skirts, they liked him. They thought of him as a real friend, so when they started to paint each others nails, and swap clothes, they included him by giving him lessons in how to look good. He was thought of as a really good sport over this, but he was, in fact, utterly humiliated by them, and only his nature stopped him rebelling. The truth was that he was terrified to refuse whatever they asked of him, because behind it all was what they thought of as a joking threat they made, to throw him out in the street like it. He was eventually saved once they hit puberty, when he was no longer included. As a teenager, he would often have nightmares about being a girl and everyone laughing at him, but this bad experience made him push these thoughts to the back of his mind. Every time he thought about those early days, when sometimes he actually wore one of their dresses, he hated himself for it. Now, here he was, the manifestation of his worst dreams. He didn't look ridiculous, he looked like a girl, and a good looking one at that. He couldn't disguise his humiliation and not only that, he was aware that those make up lessons were coming back. Those early days did him a great deal of mental harm, he could even remember some of the things the girls told him about applying make up all coming back to him, supplementing the lessons that Angela was giving him as he went along. He was in hell but he felt just as trapped as when he was a child. He kept telling himself that he was a grown man who could just say no, but somehow the child inside him just kept him submissive. By the time Angela had left, he was in something like a state of shock. His mind was screaming for make up remover and his old clothes but his body just wouldn't respond. "What do you think about this?" Tracy asked him. "I will do as you tell me to please you, but I'm not comfortable," was his only reply, mumbled in a quiet voice. Tracy was in a state of bliss. She had visions of being able to dominate a submissive husband, and here it was, happening.. She had imagined forcing him to go out of the house with her, then only agreeing not to make him, if he spent a number of nights going down on her. Much of her pleasure was derived from seeing him squirm at everything. He was obviously not going to want to agree to go shopping for more clothes for himself, with her, but she knew she had the power to force him and that she did. She remembered the sex shop where she had seen the maids' dresses, so that was where they headed, but first stop was the corsetiere's to find him something really strong. "I'd like to fit my husband here with a really good corset for figure training," she told the assistant who came to help them. "Certainly, madam, will you step out to our fitting room please sir." He didn't even rebel when he was humiliated by having his gender announced, much to Tracy's delight. He was actually thinking that if he obliged her, the whole horrible business would be over that much sooner. Once in private he was stripped of his dress, his bra, and the lingerie corset he was wearing, and the assistant, an attractive woman in her forties, measured him for his first real corset. She went out into the shop and shortly returned with a confection of black and purple, satin and lace, hiding unrelenting steel, which she wrapped round him. It supported his gel breasts, reaching down almost to his groin and for that reason he had to remove his panty girdle, the lady pointing out that the corset would give the impression of wider hips, so the padded girdle would be redundant. His cache sex had no depth, so could be removed with the corset on, if he needed the toilet. She noticed that he was shivering and assumed it was with excitement, she had fitted many men who claimed not to like it, but were in fact delighted. What she didn't realise was that he was suffering forms of shock and depression, so she pressed on, but before she tightened the corset she had another suggestion. "If madam wishes, we have another item which acts the same as the cache sex, but doesn't have to be removed for toilet purposes." Madam did wish, so the corset and cache sex were removed and she appeared with what appeared to be a pair of latex panties. These, however, were designed with the back flap fastened with Velcro, for the necessary, and a sheath in the base, which was rolled onto his penis with some difficulty, in the same manner as a condom. The sheath ended in an outlet, through which he could pee, but by pulling the panties strongly upwards, his penis and testicles ended up the same way as the cache sex, in other words, not apparently there. "If madam wishes, we have the same type of adhesive as used on the breast forms, which will fix this in place, much like a chastity belt, until the solvent is used to remove them. Madam did wish, so the garment was fixed into place. The corset was vicious in its control and shaping. The assistant showed Tracy how to use a hook device, with a comfortable wooden handle set at right angles, to catch the laces and pull them tight. She started at the top, working towards the middle, then at the bottom to the middle again. This exercise was repeated three times, the last when the lady put her knee into his back to get the maximum purchase. Frank had the greatest difficulty breathing. After purchasing the corset he was wearing, and buying two others in white and pink, the journey to the sex shop was continued. There he was fitted with five French maid costumes, three black and white, two pink and white, that were so tight that he wouldn't be able to wear them without the corset. They came complete with aprons, voluminous petticoats, mop caps, collars and cuffs. These last two listed seemed just frilly pieces of nothing, matching in the colours of the costumes, black or pink, but in fact had steel wires running through them, and could be locked in place. With a chain available the maid could be secured in any place he could be locked to, by neck or wrists or both. They also bought four pairs of shoes, two with five inch heels, two with six inch, one of each in pink and black, all fitted with locking straps. Tracy was determined to have him begging for mercy. "You may wear the five inch heels during the day, but I will unlock them so you can wear the six inch to serve in the evenings," she told him. "The black uniforms are for cleaning, washing and cooking, the pink ones are for waiting on table." What he didn't realise was that the dresses themselves also had a lock at the top for the zip, so once on, he had to ask her for them to be undone. He hardly noticed when she told him that from now on his name was Fleur, meaning flower, a French name for a French maid. After they returned home, he was ordered into a pink uniform, with five inch heels, and had to serve Tracy a formal lunch in the dining room, albeit only cold meats and salad, with a cooled chardonnay, and cheese and biscuits to follow. She had him curtsey to her when he served, waiting attentively while she ate, to top up her wine, or pick up her serviette when she 'accidentally' dropped it on the floor. He was allowed to eat afterwards, in the kitchen. His morale didn't improve over dinner, which he cooked without his usual flair and that night in bed, with him in his baby doll, was the ultimate for her. She had him go down on her, using his tongue with a skill she hadn't anticipated, bringing her to three enormous orgasms. Into the next several weeks she did everything she could think of to maintain her dominant position over him. She took away all his men's clothes, renting a lockup so he couldn't get at them, and insisted that he be in uniform all the time. Then a change started to come over him. Eventually it started to affect him less and he learned to become more agile in his ridiculous heels. He had never complained about his corsets, but she knew he hated them, so she pointed out that you had to pay a price if you wanted the figure. She knew that she wouldn't have been able to spend five minutes in either the heels or the corset and she could only wonder at how he managed.. The next thing she did was to insist that he call her Mistress, then she wanted to introduce a curtsey into every one of his routines. The trouble was that he started to do it each time they had interaction, all on his own, actually seeming to enjoy it. What had happened was that he had a couple of periods where he had to concentrate on jobs coming in. When that happened Tracy had no choice, solely because she didn't want a significantly lower standard of living, losing his fees. During that time he was able to shake himself out of the almost catatonic state he found himself in. He actually started to like the feel of the clothes, the stockings on his bare legs, the supporting embrace of the corset even. He began to think that being a maid relieved him of any pressure of decision making, he could in a way, relax, in spite of Tracy trying to find ways of making him feel dominated. He was just as happy that he was making Tracy happy. He started to appreciate the way cosmetics could change his face, and even reflect his moods. If it hadn't been for his occasional work, he would probably had difficulties, but it brought a contrast to his life that was his saviour. As the feeling of contentment grew in him, he started to notice subtle changes in his wife's attitude. She no longer seemed to be enjoying life as much as before. Attempting to make her happy, he deliberately set out to anticipate her wishes, acting the perfect servant, but there was something she wasn't finding right and he couldn't put his finger on it. After all it was her idea to place him in feminine clothes and he had gone along with it. He loved his wife, but unless she told him what was bugging her, he was at an exquisite loss, wrapped as he was in his finery which he now much appreciated. Every morning he was up early enough to prepare himself, hair and make up perfect, to serve his wife her breakfast in bed. He helped her bathe and dress in the outfit he had ironed the night before, did her make up and brushed her short hair, wishing her well at work with a deferential curtsey as she left. After clearing the breakfast things, he would get himself a cup of coffee and head for the room he used as an office. After viewing any problems his clients might have, dealing with minor ones, he would then have a calorie conscious breakfast. After that any other matters relating to his business would come next, followed by a period of thorough housework. Later, after all these chores were dealt with, he might view a random shopping channel on the TV, or try a new look for his face with his rapidly growing collection of cosmetics. His only problem was the occasional knock on the door. He would check through the security spy hole so that if it was a delivery, he would take it in, but if it was a neighbour or friend, he would simply pretend that no one was at home. He was totally at ease with his appearance to strangers, but was well aware that anyone who knew him would only take seconds to recognise him. This was his Achilles heel. He was sure he would die of shame if he was 'outed', but of course Tracy didn't realise that, especially as he was now such a willing participant in shopping trips. She noticed that he was smiling a great deal, seemingly oblivious to the fact that, although she had instigated his dressing up, things had changed in some way and now it wasn't the way it was any more. She also found out that Fleur was masturbating to get his jollies. The latex panty wasn't as permanently stuck as they had been told, it was working loose by his sweat about every other day, so he was re-gluing it before she came home. That was what was keeping him amused during the day when she was at work. He was happy and she wasn't. She remedied one problem by sending off for a proper chastity device, one that not only stopped his games, but also had a remote control that would provide anything from a tingle, to a painful electric shock to both his balls and backside. It did this by having its batteries moulded into a butt plug. The chastity tube was pulled back to the plug, which made an electrical connection between the two, and at the same time kept him well tucked. When he was shocked, as one electrode was in each place, he felt as if he was being ripped apart, from stem to stern, so to speak. That was the start of the end for the most blissful period of his life, because the next thing she introduced was a review of his work each evening after dinner. They only ever used their basement for storage, but now she had him assemble a wooden horse structure, four legs holding a wide platform with cuffs which he had to lock himself onto after she had finished eating. She bought a riding crop, an especially thin one, and used any excuse to deploy it. "Your stocking seams aren't straight," she told him one evening, "and you keep looking me in the eye. I've told you many times that, unless I say otherwise, you look down at my feet when we are talking, you've looked at my face three times tonight. You will get three strokes for each offence, that is twelve tonight." As he now only wore a g-string over his chastity tube and his skirt and petticoats were too short, his backside was bare and every stroke was agony. At last Tracy was enjoying herself again at his expense and now she was winning she wanted to twist the knife further. "From now on girl," she told him, "if I or any other woman tells you to 'relax me', you will immediately go to work on and in my pussy with your tongue. If on the other hand, I tell you to 'worship me', you will perform the same service, but on my behind. So you understand?" He had no option but to agree, but he was concerned by what she described as 'another woman'. She was soon making full use of his 'worshiping', much to his revulsion, having to insert his tongue and swirl it around, sending her into bliss and him into loathing. For new ideas she resorted to having a look at the many forced feminisation sites on the web, and decided on several. On one Friday, just as she sat down for dinner, she announced: "I'm having guests tomorrow evening, Fleur, prepare a meal for myself and three others, and I want the table laid up and four courses served, understand girl?" "May I ask who you've invited, Tracy? I'm not ready to be seen like this by anyone we know." "You may not ask, girl, it's none of your business and that remark is going to cost you dearly when I do your review after I've eaten. Care to add to your punishment?" "No Mistress." "In that case I want you to relax me while I eat tonight." Meaning that he would spend the time that she was eating under the table between her thighs. At least it was better than the alternative. He served her aperitif and returned to the kitchen, knowing that any further conversation was not only useless, she would probably shock him. While the crop was painful, he felt he would recover from those injuries, he wasn't at all sure he would from the multiple shocks to his testicles. Even so, the punishment he received that evening, twenty four strokes, made him wonder if after all, the pleasure he got from dressing, was worthwhile. He was still feeling so bad the next morning that he couldn't eat any breakfast and didn't have time for lunch. All that day, Fleur worried about the guests that Tracy had invited. However, he was back on form when it came to cooking, timing was now his fort(, and his preparations including allowing for the maximum amount of time he could spend in the dining room, serving the diners. He was doing asparagus wrapped in Palma ham with a small salad and a reduced balsamic dressing, grilled salmon with samphire and a Hollandaise sauce, roast leg of lamb with new potatoes and spinach with a hot mint sauce, and to finish with a strawberry Pavlova. The wines he chose were Champagne as aperitif and a choice of a good Burgundy or a very nice M(con white with a Sauternes to finish. He would offer to serve cheese and biscuits with a port if anyone wanted it. All the preparations took his mind off worrying about the visitors and his by now rather urgent need for sexual relief. It being Saturday, Tracy was at home all day, but naturally didn't lift a finger to help him. Her only contributions were to unlock his five inch black heels to exchange them for the six inch ones in pink to match his change to evening costume. At the appointed time, he answered the door to admit what turned out to be three of Tracy's work colleagues. He recognised them from social occasions at her office, and knew they lived locally, but normally he would have no contact with them, to his considerable relief. He curtseyed and offered them drinks and nibbles once they had joined Tracy in their sitting room. Tracy told him that they would eat in fifteen minutes. They expressed how impressed they were with Tracy's hired help, but he had to curtsey and leave before she replied, trusting that she wasn't going to 'out' him. The meal went off extremely well, the only annoying thing being that the women all congratulated Tracy on the quality and selection of the food, just as if she had cooked it. She said nothing to disillusion them. During the course of the evening, he either caught their names, or was aided by dim memories of meeting them before. They were June Christie, a large woman of about thirty five, Irene Franklin, older, perhaps sixty with a rather sour nature, and Mary Travis nearer his own age of twenty seven and while not a raging beauty, was the only one approaching what you might call attractive. It appeared that Irene had just retired from their associate company, where she had been in the research department, and had taken a part time job with a local doctor. They had been partaking in the cheese and port, when Tracy asked for brandies back in the sitting room. After he had poured them, he had curtseyed before leaving, but Tracy told him to stay for a moment. "If you have everything, you may as well proceed now," his wife told Irene. "Fleur, bend over and grasp your ankles, remember, I don't want to hear a word." He did as he was told, displaying his rump to all in the room. Irene moved behind him and he felt a sting in each buttock followed with one in each of his upper arms. It wasn't until the last of these that he looked round and saw that she had just injected something into his arm from a syringe. Both mystified and worried, he looked quizzically at his wife, but she simply dismissed him, so with a curtsey he left. He didn't have long to think about what had just happened. His mind started to float and he carried out his work quite mechanically, feeling quite detached from reality. When Tracy called him back in to top up their drinks she told him to worship Irene, which he did without the slightest hesitation, licking and prodding her behind with his tongue. He was aware that it was wrong, that he didn't want to do it, he was revolted by it, but the part of his mind that controlled his actions simply told him, 'what the hell'. Later, to him it seemed little more than seconds, he was laid on his back on the floor, with June crouched over him, rubbing her pussy in his face. He was eating it like a passionate lover, while he felt his g-string pulled down and a painful prick into each of his balls in turn. The pain only marginally penetrated his foggy mind, so it didn't alter the pace at which he was bringing June to a climax, which she achieved with a cross between a yelp and a scream. He was helped to sit up in a chair, and while his mind was just about processing that Mary was declining something, Irene further injected something under the front part of his underarm, in the direction of each of his 'breasts'. By the time that all this was done, he was so much out of things he was only slightly registering that he was being put to bed, without eating any dinner. The next morning, Saturday, was not a great deal better. He went about his morning routines as always, but felt as if he was in a dream. He served his Mistress her breakfast as always, noticing that she seemed especially cheerful. "Bend down and touch your toes, girl," she ordered. He curtseyed and obliged. "Now kneel before me." He did as ordered, without even thinking. "I'm going to take great delight in telling you something Fleur." She told him. He was looking at her with blank eyes. "You have been given several powerful drugs in the form of very slow release capsules. I want you to know what is going to happen to you, knowing that there isn't a thing you can do about it. You can probably feel aware of the first. It has taken away your free will, making you my absolute slave. The next effect you will notice is that while you are feeling more and more randy as your male instincts control you, your cock will become useless, and will shrink along with your balls." She laughed and carried on. "I know you can understand me, and your mind is probably screaming, but there is nothing you can do to stop the inevitable. As your cock and balls disappear, your breasts, hips and bum will grow and your waist shrink. You will develop all the attributes of a voluptuous woman while your mind is still that of a randy male. If you are very, very good I may allow you the occasional sexual release, but only I can do it through implants in your body, otherwise I'm afraid you may go mad with frustration. Isn't that all fun?" He was screaming inwardly, but couldn't make an intelligible sound. His mind knew what was happening but it was through such a fog that he couldn't think straight. "From now on, any guest, female or male that comes into this house on my invitation, you will offer to either relax or worship them. You know only too well what men need to relax them, don't you?" He stood, curtseyed and went back to the kitchen to get on with his duties and shortly afterwards Tracy went out for the day. "Dinner for two tonight Fleur, and light candles on the table when we eat," she called to him as she left. Tracy couldn't imagine life any better than she had it now, it was sheer bliss. Knowing that her husband was at home doing all the housework, and preparing a meal for the evening, she had at last accepted an invitation to go out with the office Romeo Andy Bartlet, they lunched and went for an afternoon drive. He started to get fresh in the car when they parked up at a local beauty spot, but she just told him to be patient, hinting that she knew he especially liked oral sex. "I don't suck nasty things that squirt," she told him, "but I have a maid that will sort you out." Five minutes away from her house, she phoned Fleur, and told him to open the door for them when they arrived. Sure enough, her maid was waiting at the door for them, and asked Andy if he wanted to be relaxed or worshipped. "We will both need relaxing while we eat the main course, Fleur," she replied, "in the meantime we will have gin and tonics in the sitting room." Andy couldn't take his eyes off the maid, she was something out of one of his wet dreams, but he didn't understand this 'relaxing' business. That was until the main course was served. Fleur crawled under the table, first to bring his wife to a climax, which didn't take as long as usual, then, while controlling his urge to gag, he unzipped Andy's flies and took his member between his lips. After being teased all afternoon, it took even less time for him to send a torrent down the maid's throat. Fleur managed to swallow most of it, but some ran down his chin and Tracy wouldn't allow him to wipe it off. He served the dessert looking absolutely sick, but with a very forced smile. "We will have coffee upstairs after we have made love, Fleur, go up and turn down the sheets ready for us." Fleur's mind was trying desperately to rebel, but it was as if he was in another's body, a passenger, just looking on at what was happening. He climbed the stairs, entered his Mistresses bedroom, lit candles that were placed round the room, then, as instructed, turned down the bed. By that time his wife and her lover had joined him, and he was told to help them undress, then, noticing that Andy hadn't regained full hardness, Tracy told her maid to revive her lover in his mouth. Try as he might, Fleur just had to watch and taste as his body obeyed. Ignominy was heaped on indignity, as he had to guide the man's penis into his wife, not with his hands, but with his mouth, licking it as he started to pump in and out of his wife. Then he had to wait to clean them both up afterwards. After he served them coffees, then brandies, they were ready to go again, having him help them as before, but this time she was on top. He not only had to lick them both, he then had to 'worship' his wife. Once they had finished the second time and after he had licked up the mess, he was dismissed and told to clear up downstairs before going to bed. He was in abject misery, while his wife was having the most wonderful time of her life. They both had to be served breakfast in bed the next morning before they went to work together. The hapless maid couldn't face food, but drank a gallon of coffee, even then he was thirsty, he assumed it was a side effect of the drugs. By the time Tracy arrived home that evening, his breasts had grown so much that she removed the falsies and he still had enough to almost fill the cups of his corset. Two more nights and he had grown as large as the gel filled breasts she had taken off him, also she saw that he had tightened his corset as far as it would go, round his now narrow waist. True to her promise, he was badly missing sex, his balls were aching with his frustration. The meals he had cooked, both for her boyfriend and that night were again lacking anything in the way of his usual skill, but although she noticed, she felt that boring meals were something she could put up with as the price to pay for her total domination over him. What she didn't notice was that he again didn't eat, she knew that he normally ate in the kitchen after she had finished, so didn't give it a second's thought. He wasn't consciously starving himself, but in his state of depression he just wasn't hungry. The next morning Tracy told him, with great pleasure, that she wasn't going to be home that night. "I'm going away with Andy this afternoon, to a business seminar tomorrow, and afterwards I'm going to his place, so I won't be back until Saturday. You can sit here thinking of me having my brains' fucked out by a man, and remember, you will never be a man again." She left for work laughing at her helpless maid, but called back: "Take the dress I was wearing on Sunday to the cleaners this afternoon, after you've finished with housework." Tracy was under the impression that he would be working on his job in the morning. In fact he was so out of it that by now he no longer functioned normally, it was all he could do, to cope with his routine maid duties. It wasn't just the drugs. By then it was Wednesday and he hadn't eaten anything since the previous Friday evening, given as well, his usual frugal diet, he was showing the classic signs of malnutrition. In by now a zombie-like state he put the dress over his arm and set out to walk to the dry cleaners, about a mile away. He didn't give a thought to his fancy dress type uniform, showing much of his cleavage and almost all his backside. He was oblivious to the sounding horns of male drivers or the strange looks given to him by other pedestrians. He was about three quarters of the way to the cleaners when the inevitable happened and he collapsed. The ambulance took him to the local casualty unit, but at a loss, they transferred him to the main hospital and it wasn't until he got there that they discovered that he was a man. The police had been informed, but the only clue they had to his identity was a previous dry cleaning mark in the dress he had been carrying. That was for a cleaner near where Tracy worked, and she had given her name and work phone number as contact details. By then it was late, with no one at the office, the key holder was no help, so they had to wait to the next morning. When they called, they were informed that Tracy was away, could a friend of hers help them? They were put through to Mary Travis. Mary had been most unhappy at the way they were treated Tracy's husband that Saturday, and had refused the invitation to join in, much to her friends' annoyance. Now she rushed to the hospital to find Fleur in a catatonic state and them having no idea what was wrong apart from having massive doses of oestrogen in his blood stream. They had put this down to him being transgender and transitioning, but even then they felt the dose was very high. Mary explained all she knew about the capsules that had been implanted, without his knowledge, where they came from and the little she knew about their effects. They then used hand scanning devices to find and surgically remove the capsules, all eight of them. The police were also informed of a probable serious assault. They were still trying to contact his wife, but the hotel they were staying in for the seminar had been booked in the name of Mr and Mrs Andy Bartlet, so they had no way of knowing where she was. The hospital was now providing intravenous nourishment to his body and, while still not completely coherent, he was starting to regain consciousness. By Friday lunchtime he was able to explain that his wife was away with a co-worker, and through his name the police were able to place the hotel where they were. It was too late by then, they had already gone back to Andy's home. The police eventually managed to track them down that evening, calling them to the door in a semi-undressed state. Tracy, swearing at the inconvenience, went with the police to what she thought would be the hospital, but was in fact the police station. There she met up with Irene Franklin, also arrested on theft charges as well as assault causing grievous bodily harm. Tracy was cautioned, but claimed that her husband, Frank, was a willing participant. By now the police had what they felt was a cast iron case, with both Frank's and Mary's statements, and now Irene's confession, Tracy didn't have a leg to stand on. Her perfect, blissful, existence came crashing to an end. The police later also arrested Andy and June Christie, but later dropped the charges. Their employer was not so forgiving, and together with Tracy, all three sacked, even before the legal system had run its course. Frank was released from hospital on the Monday afternoon, he had appointed a lawyer by that time, who placed an injunction on Tracy, who had to leave the marital home. She went to stay with Irene as a temporary measure, and it was there that she was served with divorce papers and a claim for damages, the latter also shared with Irene. When he checked his business requests, he was relieved to find that there was only one small non-urgent query, and that hadn't arrived until Friday. Frank's recovery was slow, and he knew from the tests they had done in the hospital that he could never return to being a whole man. Once he had recovered his strength, he was started on a carefully monitored transitioning programme, and this time he was aware of the consequences. By the time his torturers came to court he was looking forward to his impending operation, and living full time as Felicity Derby, his name and identity changed legally. Tracy and Irene were each given five years. In a separate civil hearing, he was granted his divorce, the house and eighty percent of their assets, amounting to about a quarter of a million pounds, the other twenty percent that his wife had been left with went to their lawyers for their charges. He won another four hundred thousand from Irene. The trauma had almost gone and the residue he, now she was left with, would be with her for the rest of her life. From then on she returned to enjoying the feel of the now normal female clothes she now wore, and the trials were a turning point. Once divorced she thought of herself now as her and she, up until that time she had been treated as the husband or the assaulted man. Now she was the free woman. She kept her clients, even had to refuse a couple, she wanted life to be uncomplicated and she didn't need the extra income. Felicity tried dating a few men, but they didn't ring her bell the same way as other women still did. She ended up happily married to a girl friend of Angela's, the nurse and cosmetician who had started her journey to womanhood. This time she made sure that they were both always together in a state of marital bliss.