Roberta Montgomery Part 1
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Roberta Montgomery - Part 2 free porn video
Roberta Montgomery - Part 2
Chapter 4 - Living The Dream
After three years of marriage, Margret and I had fully settled into our
marital roles. Everything she had promised me had come true, and I was
living a dream life. Right before our wedding, I quit my job, then I
changed my legal name from Robert Joseph Bingham to Roberta June
Bingham. We wrote our own wedding vows (that's a story in itself),
eloped, then I changed my last name to Montgomery. I officially became a
full-time housewife. We told everyone else about our marriage after the
fact; although, that announcement lost a bit of its thunder when paired
with the announcement that I became a woman in the process.
Margret diplomatically explained our situation to both sides of our
family, and with a bit of effort and patience, they all accepted us.
Initially, it was very awkward, but there were no family fireworks,
which surprised me. Of course, Margret invented a little white lie about
me being a lifelong male-to-female transsexual who had kept her secret
hidden, and that cover story actually gained sympathy from everyone. As
usual, I trusted Margret's judgment, and she's never led me astray.
Except for weekends, Margret wasn't a breakfast person, which meant I
didn't have to wake up at any specific time during the week. She was
usually at work by the time I awoke, and I loved being able to sleep in.
My daily routine began with a long, steamy shower, getting dressed and
made-up, then making the bed and picking up Margret's mess in the
bathroom. She was sloppy enough when we were dating, but once she
acquired a housewife, she went out of her way to throw towels directly
onto the floor, to get toothpaste all over the mirror and faucet, and to
leave tampon and panty liner wrappings on the counter (rather than
taking the extra half second to aim for the waste basket). That was her
side of the dream life... never having to be tidy.
I love it, though; and even after three years of what still feels like
our honeymoon, I can't stop smiling whenever I'm cleaning up after her,
and I can't stop thinking about how much she depends on me. Every
morning when her alarm clock sounds, she enters a spotless, sparkling
bathroom, and she sees how hard I work for her. It even causes her to
become sexually aroused, sometimes to the point of waking me up to give
her head before she gets ready for work. Playfully, I have to be careful
not to let Margret catch me bending over and scrubbing while she's at
home. That's usually an automatic rape session. Seeing me with the
rubber gloves, the bright lipstick, the apron, the spray bottles,
especially when I'm in a vulnerable position, gets her wetter than
anything else. The more I flaunt my domesticity, the more she loses her
control; and teasing her that way is my favorite sport.
Typically, I spend the rest of my days cleaning our house, washing our
clothes, making trips to the dry cleaner, grocery shopping, and
preparing our meals. It took me a while to get comfortable going out in
public as Roberta, but Margret always went with me for the first few
months, until I got over my fear of being out in society as a woman. It
took a lot of voice training, and Margret even enrolled me in a
finishing school to learn proper feminine deportment. I was very
embarrassed going through that at the time, but once again, having faith
in Margret paid dividends.
Of course, Margret ordered me to trade in my black pickup truck for a
fuchsia minivan, for running all of my little errands around town. She
said the new vehicle better suited both my femininity and my new status
in life, but it took me a while to get used to it. I was afraid that
Margret also might require me to exchange my .45 ACP handgun for a 9mm
Parabellum, but she jokingly said that was a line of extreme forced
feminization that she never would cross. She always did have a quirky
sense of humor.
I was something of an amateur wine sommelier even before I met Margret,
but after we married, I educated myself in any area that I thought would
make me a better housewife. Knowing her love of beer, I learned all I
could about her favorite brands. I became a competent bartender,
memorizing many recipes for mixed drinks (although I still rely on the
Web quite a bit), and I keep our liquor cabinet well stocked, so that I
can accommodate any guest's request.
I learned about specialty imported teas and gourmet coffees, and I
bought several different types of teaware, coffee grinders, and brewing
devices. I learned about all of the different tea types and brewing
methods. I taught myself how to make espresso, latte, cappuccino, and
most other coffee variants. My initial "lingerie show" version of the
traditional Japanese tea ceremony had my wife drooling all over herself.
Margret had always enjoyed my cooking, but I still took it upon myself
to take a few cooking and baking classes. After the first night that I
served homemade bread with dinner, I wasn't able to walk right for a
couple of days. I joked that if I ever learned how to churn my own
butter, she'd probably put me in the hospital with a broken pelvis. At
one point, we were enjoying my cooking and baking so much, that Margret
had to put both of us on a strict diet. Without her willpower, I doubt I
could've been disciplined enough on my own to change my eating habits,
considering how much fun I was having in the kitchen.
I even surprised her by taking massage classes so that I can relieve her
tension after those particularly trying days at work. My doing things
like that for her often causes her to burst into tears and hug me half
to death. She never lets me forget how much she adores and treasures her
"precious little sweetie," and I couldn't be happier with the way I'm
treated.
Margret has become bolder with her household authority and more
blatantly dominant with me over time, but the more she takes control,
the more subservient I become, which encourages her dominance even more.
To us, it's simultaneously an expression of our kinky natures and a
lifestyle reality. Margret truly has become the queen of her own castle,
and I am her loyal, faithful, devoted subject. I never imagined that I
could enjoy life so much, or be so unconditionally in love with
someone... and I certainly never expected that I would have to become
someone's housewife to feel this way.
Chapter 5 - Those Were The Days
One morning, I found a handwritten note with a lipstick print taped to
my vanity mirror. That's a rare find in the age of text messages.
"Eat a light breakfast, skip lunch altogether, and don't cook anything
for dinner. Tonight, I'm bringing home takeout pizza from that new
Italian place near my office. Just make sure we have plenty of beer, and
dress casually, sweetie.
Love, The Boss Lady"
More often than not, when Margret brings home our dinner, it means she
wants to talk about something important. She doesn't want me being
distracted by cooking, serving, and cleaning up; nor does she want to be
distracted by watching me. When she takes me out, it's usually a
celebration. When she brings food home to me, it's a discussion.
She knew that I'd be curious all day, so I doubt that it would be bad
news. It must be something on which she really wants my opinion, or she
would've just announced her decision about whatever it is. My mind was
racing, trying to figure out what it could be. I got all of my housework
done early, and I stocked our beer supply two days ago, so I had time to
mess around. I played with my synthesizers for a little while. I'm not a
musician, but it's fun to dabble and create cute little beats and
melodies in my spare time. Later, I played video games until it was time
for Margret to get home.
I met her at the front door to help her carry in the pizzas. I was
wearing a cute, pink, short-sleeved, cotton, mid-thigh sleep shirt with
white lace at the hem, sleeves, and collar, and pink bunny slippers,
with light makeup and my hair in braided pigtails. I had nothing on
underneath the sleep shirt. I wore very little jewelry: just a pair of
small, pink diamond, stud earrings and my engagement and wedding rings.
Margret gave me a mischievous smile. "Well, sweetie, I see you read my
note about dressing casually. You always find a way to distract me no
matter how you dress." She directed me to set the boxes on the coffee
table in the living room, and to go fetch us some beers and napkins
while she ran upstairs to change clothes.
I had some soft music playing on the stereo, and I was on my knees
pouring her beer when Margret came back down. She followed suit and wore
one of my girly sleep shirts with a picture of two sleeping kittens on
the front, and she also wore nothing underneath. The only other thing
she wore was her wedding ring. "Cute" was a bit out of character for
her, but tonight we made an adorable, cuddly couple. She was barefoot,
and I playfully complimented her on her manicure and pedicure. "That
dark nail polish suits you, Ma'am."
"Why, thank you, Miss. I have a cute little house girl who always does
my nails. I don't even have to pay her in wages, just pizza and kisses."
"Actually, I'll forgo the pizza if I can have extra kisses." I stood to
meet her, and we hugged and kissed as though we were going to make out
for a couple of hours, but then she quickly pulled away and swatted my
behind. "Let's eat, drink, and talk first."
We snuggled on the sofa. I started feeding pizza into her mouth, then
she reciprocated. We handled our own drinks, but we continued to feed
each other and wipe each other's faces.
"Sweetie, the boys and I had our annual fiscal meeting today with our
accountant; and while it was a bit of a formality, we confirmed that our
business is doing very well. In six short years, we've become one of the
most successful law firms in the entire state."
"That's great!" With a mouthful of
pizza, I hugged my beautiful meal ticket (one of my pet names for her).
"Indeed it is, baby girl. You know that I don't like to spend money that
we don't have, and that's why we've stayed in this relatively small
house, until now."
My jaw dropped and my eyes widened. "'Until now'? You mean...?"
"Yes. We finally can afford to buy a larger house without having to take
out a loan. There's no rush, but we can start planning and looking."
I hugged her again. "That's wonderful! I'm so proud of you! You're the
best breadwinner I've ever married!"
Margret almost spit out her beer trying not to laugh, but she gained her
composure, coughing after she swallowed.
"You have a way with words, sweetie. But now, we have to decide exactly
what we want in a new house. For example, city or country, large or
small yard, and the interior layout will be very important to you. Not
only will you be the one cleaning our new house for the next few
decades, you'll be organizing the interior decor, for the most part.
I've never had much flair for that sort of thing, so I'll need a lot of
input from my best girl."
"Did you want to build a new house or buy an existing house?" I asked.
"We can do either. It all depends on knowing what we want and seeing
what's available. Hence, tonight's little brainstorming session."
Margret had her laptop on an end table, and she showed me some of the
houses that were on the market within twenty miles of her office. "I
don't want to be more than a few minutes away from work. That's my
number one condition. If you need me, I need to be able to get to you
fast."
"Awww..." Another hug. This time, I held on for a while.
"And... I've had a couple of other ideas that we need to consider." She
sat the laptop back down on the end table, and as soon as she faced back
toward me, I penetrated my wife's mouth with another slice of pizza,
making it seem as perverted as possible. My fingers followed the slice
inside, allowing her tongue to lick them clean of the delicious sauce.
"Mmmm, my favorite flavor... 'sissy'!"
"We're both equally good at swallowing," I quipped, as I wiped her mouth
with a napkin.
"I'll drink to that." Margret downed what remained in her beer glass,
then snapped her fingers at me and pointed. I scurried off to the
kitchen, fetched another few beers, knelt at my wife's feet, carefully
poured one into her glass, then stood and curtsied.
"It's good to be the queen!" proclaimed a satisfied Margret. She took
another sip, patted the cushion next to her, and I rejoined her on the
sofa.
"Now, that's exactly what I've been thinking about... our lifestyle. Not
only are you an efficient, modern housewife, Roberta; but you're also an
excellent maid, waitress, secretary, and concubine."
I smiled and blushed.
"We have an opportunity here to buy or build a house that's tailored to
our needs. First, we can afford to have a dedicated BDSM room, for all
of our equipment and costumes. I'm not only thinking of storage; we
could have an actual playroom... or even a dungeon."
"Aw, wow, that's right! I didn't even think of that!"
"No shit. That's why I'm here, to do the 'big picture' thinking for us,"
Margret teased. I smiled back, with a mouthful of beer.
"Also, I've been thinking about our role playing games. Since we got
hitched, we've done plenty of kinky stuff in bed, but we've practically
stopped doing any extravagant role playing scenarios, like we used to
do... and I miss that."
I swallowed my beer. "Well, we've done about all we can do in this
house. Also, a lot of it was based on me dressing as your girlfriend,
back when I was Bobby. Now, that's become our everyday life, so it's not
playing anymore."
Margret sighed. "Ah... Bobby. I had completely forgotten about him. No
offense, but I clearly traded up!" We both giggled. "But you're right,
sweetie. We've been living the dream, so we haven't needed to pretend.
But I have the itch again. How about you?"
"Margret, you know I'm in. Whatever you want to do, just say the word."
"No, sweetie. I'm asking you whether you miss role playing. I know that
you'll obey me, you took a wedding vow; but I need to know how you think
and feel about this. Don't just sign off on my desires. Tell me what you
really want... or don't want. We're a couple; and even though I run this
show, I'll always care about you and value your opinions."
Margret is the best wife, ever!
"Well, it was fun when we did different things, but I think I had the
most fun whenever we pretended that I was your uniformed maid.
Remember, I had that costume one year for a Halloween party, and we both
thought it was so cute, that every weekend for the rest of that year,
you were the strict Mistress of the mansion, and I was the poor maid
sold into your service to pay off my family's debt."
"Right, that uniform was extremely cute on you! Not an original idea,
but we executed it so well, that the whole scenario just clicked. Some
of your improvised dialogue was priceless!"
"And somehow, I always managed to get into trouble." We were both
giggling again, and feeling the lubricating effects of the beer.
"What was so fun is how we incorporated so many other kinks and fetishes
into that... you got yourself spanked, paddled, whipped, gagged,
collared, caged, chained up, tied up, raped, shocked, put in a
stockade..."
"Oh, and that was the first time we ever tried chastity."
"Oh, yeah. It was."
"That was the scariest aspect of it for me, partly because I had never
had hard metal locked onto my genitals before, and partly because you
were so careless with the keys. I really thought you had lost them."
Margret laughed out loud. "Ah, fun times! You were so terrified! I
pretended to tear the house upside-down looking for them for two days,
and I made you help me."
"Hey, don't laugh at me. I was really scared. You almost gave me a
complex." I shot her my most pouty "pitiful little victim" look.
"Aw, sweetie, you're so precious! See, that's exactly what we've been
missing. Don't get me wrong, I love our current life together; but if we
find a large enough house, we can do more fun stuff like that. In the
meantime, why don't you get online and shop for some better maid
uniforms. See if you can find a local dress shop that will take custom
orders. I have some devious notions brewing, maid."
"Yes, Mistress Margret."
We spent the next two or three hours drinking, going over the more
practical issues of searching for a house, and discussing what types of
floor plans would suit our needs. I almost passed out in the middle of
the floor, so Margret called it a night. We both were too tipsy to risk
the stairs, so we spooned on the sofa with a couple of throw pillows and
a fleece blanket. The last thing I felt before falling asleep was
Margret reaching over my hip to grab me, forming a chastity cage with
her hand.
Becky
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