Chuck fucked hard his mother 8217 s rounded ass
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Chuck White 3 free porn video
Chuck White
3
Appropriate Outfits For Sleeping
"28...lick, 29...lick, 30...lick. Sir, I have realized my
insufficiencies as a lover and my wife deserves a decent and active sex
life, that's why I ask you to do what I cannot. Please be my wife's
lover so that she can be happy. 31...lick"
......................................................................
Things happened so fast after our new arrangement that it left my head
spinning. From the night that we had our discussion and I had answered,
"Yes, Ma'am" our roles changed. I was her slaveboy, she was my
Mistress.
She no longer did anything around the house. I cooked, I cleaned, I did
all of the shopping, and the laundry. All of the things that she used
to do, I did now. On top of that, I still had to do the normal manly
things that I had always taken care of like mowing the lawn, carrying
out the garbage and washing the cars. Mine was a very busy day.
That was a pretty big change in itself but probably the biggest change
for me was how she had me dress. The very night that I had become her
little bitch, she had me wear panties, one of my pocket bras and a big
tee shirt to bed, telling me that we would be ordering some more
appropriate night wear the next day.
I really got off on sleeping like that. Since I slept in a different
room from her at that point, there wasn't much embarrassment of being
seen dressed that way except for a quick check to make sure I'd
followed her orders. The awkwardness started the following day.
I loved being able to wear women's clothes all of the time but it was
really weird at first being around my wife in women's outfits. She of
course did her best to make me feel uncomfortable by commenting on how
cute my outfit was or suggesting a better choice of top to match my
skirt; just to call attention to the fact I was wearing women's
clothing now. (Always, there was that little thrill of embarrassment
though to make it all worthwhile)
That next day, not only did we order nightgowns and pajamas but skirts,
blouses, dresses, women's jeans, shorts and shoes of all sorts. Janice
was especially impressed that I knew what sizes to order in women's
clothing. I had been crossdressing for quite awhile, much longer than
she knew and I had learned a lot by trial and error. Things arrived
quickly since we were gold members of Primus Amazing!
I have always thought of myself as Michelle since my name is Michael.
One day, Janice asked what name I had picked for myself and I told her.
This set off a bout of uncontrolled laugher on her part. When she could
finally talk again, she informed me in a very derogatory tone, "Oh I
bet you do think of yourself as a nice, sexy, french girl don't you
pervert."
"That doesn't even come close to fitting you, asswipe," she sneered,
"No, a slutty bimbo like you should be called something like, Tiffany
or Amber or Crystal. Yeah..., I like that. From now on, you're
Crystal." It was hard to think of myself being Crystal instead of
Michelle but my opinion didn't matter.
"Do you like your new name, girl?" my Mistress asked.
I knew better than to disagree with her or tell her I didn't like
something; she always found a way to make me pay for it so I answered,
"Yes Ma'am, I love it."
So many things were different after I became her puppet. Since Janice
had found my box of toys they no longer remained hidden. The top of my
dresser now displayed dildoes, cock rings and butt plugs. The drawers
were filled with my girl clothes, both the new ones we bought and my
old ones. My make-up and that sort of thing went into the main
bathroom, the one I had begun using after being ousted from the master
bedroom.
My handcuffs had been confiscated by Janice. I found out shortly after
my new life had begun that Janice had ordered some things of her own.
Her collection consisted of more handcuffs, spreaders, paddles and
other goodies of that ilk. You couldn't expect her to hurt her delicate
hands spanking me, could you?
As mentioned, I had learned not to disagree with 'the boss.' The first
time I did was when she had told me to take the garbage out to the road
one evening. I was dressed in a cute turquoise denim skirt, halter top,
wearing breast forms as usual and cute, strappy sandals. I was
accustomed to wearing jewelry now so with bracelet, anklet, earrings
and necklace I was looking very girlie. No way did I want to be seen
outside like this.
I made the mistake of SAYING I didn't want to go outside dressed as I
was. "Oh," she said, "you think you have the right to question my
orders? You obviously must think your opinion matters. We'll put a stop
to that shit right now!"
She told me to lean over a wooden chair and place my hands on the seat.
Returning from her room, she cuffed my hands to the back and placed
another set on each ankle to the legs of the chair. "Close your eyes,"
she ordered.
While I was leaned over the chair, my mistress tucked the hem of my
skirt into it's waistband and snatched my lace panties down around my
knees. Then I waited for my punishment. This was something new for me,
my modest wife showing yet another new side. As of yet, the worst
rebuke from her was a good tongue-lashing. I was kind of looking
forward to this in a way. It was so deliciously naughty.
WHAP!!! That caught me by surprise! I hadn't expected her to hit me
that hard. It hurt like hell and I yelped out in pain. "Go ahead and
cry out sissy. I hope the neighbors can hear you." Janice laughed with
glee.
WHAP again. "They will before I'm done," my wife mumbled under her
breathe. She had even managed to hit the exact same spot that second
time which made it hurt doubly worse. Gritting my teeth, I remained
quiet that time. I didn't want the neighbors to hear and ask why I was
crying out.
"Oh, you think you're mister tough guy huh. You pathetic little sissy
bitch, you'll beg me to stop before I let up." And she proceeded to
wail into my ass and thighs with the belt.
It's hard to believe that she was that angry at me for questioning her
orders and not wanting to go outdoors dressed in women's clothes.
Janice must have had some deeply pent up anger that she was releasing
as she swung and swung and swung and swung.
With every hit I squirmed and bucked against my restraints, trying to
distance myself from the evil thrashing. It didn't help; her belt found
me with every swing. And I cried and I yelped and I begged her
forgiveness and I promised to do whatever she said if she'd just stop.
Tears were pouring from my eyes, my nose was a snotty mess, my breaths
coming in gasps as I wimpered like a little girl.
I had never considered that this would be a part of our new
relationship but I should have known better, I'd read enough stories to
know how it worked. I guess I just couldn't fathom her fulfilling this
part of the role. But...she was embracing it wholeheartedly.
My neighbors would've had to be gone not to hear the smack of the belt
or me crying out and begging. Finally Janice unfastened the handcuffs
and screamed loud enough to ensure the neighbors heard, "Now take..the
fuckin'..garbage..out..to the road..like I told you, you stupid
bastard!"
As much as I dreaded going outside dressed in a skirt, surely the
neighbors were alerted and watching, I dreaded even more the thought of
another ass whipping. I've never experienced that much pain in my life.
And, I've never had to BEG for mercy like that before.
I obediantly carried the trashcan out to the road in my girly outfit
moving as quickly as I could. I prayed that nobody would see me but I
knew better, we'd made too much of a fuss. I looked at the ground the
whole way, afraid to know who was watching and hurried back into the
house as fast as I could go.
When I returned, "Do you think you've learned your place now,
shithead?" my wife asked sarcastically.
"Yes Ma'am!" I hastily answered. "I'm sorry."
This was a whole new level of humiliation, first people hearing me get
my ass spanked by my wife and then parading in front of them in skirt
et al. like a little sissy. Things had obviously changed in our
household of late.
How could I face any of the neighbors again wondering which ones had
witnessed my sprint to the road dressed in the skirt? And equally
embarrassing, heard my ass whipping and my wife's order to carry the
garbage out. And most embarrassing of all, me submissively carrying out
my wife's orders like a whipped puppy.
I was no longer the man of the house, she now wore the pants in this
family!
......................................................................
Up until that night, Janice had not made it overly obvious that I was
wearing women's clothes. She had me wearing women's jeans and women's
tee shirts, the V neck kind with the shorter sleeves when I was
outside. If one looked closely it was obvious but at a quick glance it
just looked like I was wearing jeans and tee shirt.
Not too long after the trash dash she made me mow the lawn wearing
Daisy Dukes and one of those shorty tops that shows off ones midriff.
Of course, my bra was noticable as well. That time, I kept my opinion
to myself since the outcome was inevidable.
I tried to act non-chalant and pretended not to notice if anyone saw
me. I'm sure the neighbors got a kick out of it. With a red face, I
pushed the mower around and pointedly ignored. (But it was a delicious
45 minutes of fluttering butterflies)
I should mention that although everything that happened was extremely
embarrassing for me, the submissive sissy inside me got off on it big
time. The whole time while she was handcuffing me to the chair the
butterflies tickled my belly even as I dreaded the coming pain. The
dart to the road and back in a skirt, (butterflies) pushing the mower
around in Daisy Dukes, (flutter, flutter) the jeans with patterned
sequins on the pockets and V necks while out shopping, they all
inspired the butterflies to dance and sing. And maybe even made Wee
Willie get hard some of the time. I'm just sayin'...
It was becoming a life of contradictions. Me utterly embarrassed and
humiliated in front of neighbors and strangers alike, sometimes to the
point I almost wanted to die. The whole while I was going through that
though, the inner demon in me that thrived on abuse, reveled and fed
it's greedy appetite on the gloriousness of my shame.
I often wondered why I was subjecting myself to this. I kept telling
myself that I didn't want a divorce and couldn't live without Janice
and that's why. Truth be told, I really didn't want to leave Janice but
it wasn't that alone.
Some inner voice that was controlling my mind and my actions was
telling me I needed to be used and abused to be happy, to feel the
thrill, yes thrill, from being totally humiliated in front of other
people. I needed them to look down on me with scorn for me to feel
complete. Don't ask me to explain, I can't. Not even to myself. I just
know what is.
Emely
- 26.03.2022
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