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Erin Ch. 15: A Perfect Sissy Cuckold
By Jonathan Quincy Graves
{Note: This is the fifteenth in a multi-part story series cataloging the progressive evolution of a relationship between a dominant woman who provides leadership and discipline for her husband. Each installment can stand alone, but they read much better if you start at the beginning. Go to: Erin Ch.01: Female Led Relationship. JQGraves}
“We need to do this more often,” Michelle said. “Hard to believe it’s been almost three months since we’ve managed to schedule lunch together. I’ve missed it.”
“I have too,” said Erin, “but with all the Corporation is going through in this business environment, we’ve hardly had time to take a breath, much less take a lunch together. So how have you been, and how’s Jason?”
“You mean my sissy maid? We call him Jasmine now. She’s fine, still keeping the house and catering to Michael and me.”
“Now I’m confused. Who is Michael?”
“Oh, that’s right, you haven’t heard the latest. Well I haven’t started sharing this openly yet. Michael is the man I’m living with now.”
“Living with, when did this happen? Are you and Jason getting a divorce?”
“No,” Michelle laughed, “nothing like that. I’d never divorce Jasmine. I still love her. She’s still my… Now that gets a little tricky. She’s not really my husband anymore, not in the traditional sense of that word—not in any sense, really. And she can’t be my wife as she is still a male, physically, and she has no desire to change sexes. She’s… well, she’s my sissy maid. That’s really the best descriptor.
“Anyway, Michael is the man I’m currently…”
Michelle stopped talking, blushed and looked studiously down at her menu as our waiter approached. She already mentioned what she planned to have for lunch, so the act was clearly for the waiter’s benefit. It appeared she was self-conscious about the lifestyle change she was about to reveal.
The young man took our orders, and I enjoyed the view as he walked away, pleased to see that at least one of the reasons we liked this restaurant for lunch had not changed in the months since we were last here.
“You were saying?” I said in a low voice.
“I met Michael one night a couple months ago during one of my wild nights on the town with a few likeminded girlfriends. Two or three nights a month we gather at my house—they love what I’ve done with Jasmine. I make him wear his frilliest little-girl outfits when the girls are coming over, and they tease him terribly. You should see him blushing when he greets them at the door and welcomes them with curtseys that reveal his ruffled panties. Anyway, we start with a few drinks brought out on a tray and served up by my sissy maid, then we go hit the clubs.”
“Doesn’t Jason, uhm… Jasmine… whatever, doesn’t he object to your clubbing? I assume he is not invited along.”
Michelle laughed, forgetting about her earlier reticence in the restaurant. People at a nearby table smiled in our direction, not knowing the cause of her amusement, illegal bahis but catching its infectious spirit.
“No,” she said, suppressing her mirth, “Jasmine stays home with a list of chores to be accomplished before I return. Often, she does them while nursing a hot bottom. The girls will playfully criticize him while he’s serving us, because of some imagined fault in his deportment or appearance, building up tension for the poor dear. Then one or more of them will take her over their lap, raise her skirts and petticoats and lower her panties for a little bare-bottomed spanking fun. It’s all good-natured, no real harm, other than a few squeals, a few tears and a hot, pink bottom for my darling sissy. I’m thinking of bringing out my strap-on and pegging her little boi pussy one of these nights. That would certainly add to his humiliation. But the girls would want to join in… That does sound like fun, now that I think about it.
“Anyway, that’s how I met Michael. The girls and I were at a club downtown one Friday night, and he asked me to dance. He is big and strong; I could tell immediately he was the prototypical alpha male. He and I moved to a separate table—the usual pattern my friends and I follow when one of us gets lucky. When the club closed that night, I let him take me to his apartment, and we had the best sex ever. He is so much bigger where it counts than Jasmine ever was. I ended up spending the night and a good part of Saturday with him as well. Oh, too much information?” she said, seeing the surprise on my face at this revelation.
“No, it’s just… No. So, you ended up moving in with him?”
“No, I couldn’t do that to Jasmine. Michael moved in with us.”
“Uh huh. And how does that work, exactly?”
“It’s perfect. Michael is the man of the house, and I get all the great sex I ever wanted. You should find a real man for yourself. You told me you put your husband in chastity, well a girl can only get so much satisfaction from a man’s tongue. Every now and then, she just has to have a big, hard…” Michelle checked our vicinity then continued in a whisper, “flesh and blood cock attached to a real man who knows how to wield it.” Her face beamed with thoughts of passion remembered.
“And Jason is okay with this?”
“Well, she did act all rebellious at first, the little dear, pouted and stomped her little feet, but Michael took her over his knee for some stern discipline, and she soon came around. I love to spank my little sissy when I make her dress all girly, but seeing Michael take charge and spank her like only a father-figure can, turning her chubby cheeks bright red, then standing her in the corner with her jumper rucked up around her waist and her panties at her ankles really turned me on. Now, Jasmine calls Michael ‘Sir’ and she does what she’s told.”
Michelle expanded her description of their new lifestyle on our trip back to the office. Apparently, I was the first—other than her girlfriend regulars—with whom she’d shared a information. And once started, she could not contain illegal bahis siteleri herself. “Jasmine has really become the perfect sissy cuckold, taking care of our every need.” She laughed, reliving a past occurrence, then shared it. “You should have seen her in her little pink party dress, hair in pigtails, ankle socks and patent leather Mary Janes, trying to assert herself, acting all indignant and manly, when I asked her to fluff Michael before he and I had sex. She stood stiffly, hands in tight little fists at her sides declaring, ‘I am not gay and will do no such thing.’ I almost expected her to stomp her pretty little feet next.” Michelle burst into laughter again before continuing.
“Michael, of course, quickly grabbed Jasmine, bent her at the waist, wrapped his arm around her, secured Jasmine’s cage and testis in his hand and practically lifted the poor deer off her feet. Jasmine got the belt that time and was soon squirming and squealing, promising to do anything and everything she was told. When Michael was convinced, he forced Jasmine to her knees and made her demonstrate her new understanding of her status in our family. It was just a short step from providing head to performing cleanup duty after Michael and I have sex. Oh, that’s something you really must experience! There is nothing so satisfying as to have a great orgasm from a large, firm cock, with a real man, followed by in-depth tongue service from your sissy cuckold.”
I had trouble getting images of what Michelle told me out of my head that afternoon. Fortunately, unlike most days recently, I did not have any important meetings or vital tasks that had to be completed. If I had, I hate to think how the mental images of poor Jason all decked out in pink, flouncy finery serving the whims of Michelle—who can take whimsy to a whole other level—along with the dominance of a big, strong alpha male, would have impacted my performance. Let alone the description Michelle provided of the sexual virility of her new man.
I left work earlier than usual that day. Well, not early, never early, but certainly earlier than usual, even for a Friday. The drive home was interminable. Fridays are always bad, but this Friday’s commute seemed to last forever.
I pulled the car into the garage, shut it down and hit the garage door close button. I was in the kitchen before the door was halfway down. Hubby was at the stove in his panties and an apron, just starting to pull dinner together.
“You’re home early,” he said with a welcoming smile.
“Yes, I am. Turn off the stove and leave that for later. I want you in the bedroom, naked, now!” He looked back at me, obviously wondering if I were deranged, so I shouted, “Change that! Not now, fifteen minutes ago! Move!” I followed him up the stairs, and smacked his little panty-clad buns to convey a sense of urgency.
He untied his apron while I reached up under my skirt, shoved my panties down my legs and stepped out of them along with the low heels I wear during the day. He gave me a funny look, mystified canlı bahis siteleri by my unexpected actions, but I could wait no longer and I pushed him backward onto the end of the bed, rucked up my skirt, crawled up over his face and dropped down on his mouth.
“Your tongue. Now. And don’t stop till I tell you to.”
I came within minutes the first time, which is probably fortunate. I don’t think I gave him much opportunity to take in air. They say that a person can live for three minutes without air before serious problems arise. If he didn’t get me off in that amount of time, the fault was his; it certainly was not due to any lack of readiness on my part. After I came, I rolled over on the bed and we both gasped for air. My orgasm reverberated through my body as though it were a living entity that had taken complete control from within.
When hubby could tell that I was coming back down to rejoin the living, he said, “Wow! What brought this on?”
“I had lunch with Michelle today and she filled me in on all the latest details of her love life. I haven’t been able to get the images out of my head since.” I lifted my ass off the bed, gathered my skirt above my hips, pointed to my sex and said, “Again, slower this time.” It occurred to me I should take the time to remove the clothes I was wearing. Expensive fabrics don’t like the kind of abuse I was giving them. But then again, fuck it.
My poor husband cringes whenever I mention my friend, Michelle. I could see it on his face, and I guess I can understand why. Most of the more dominant/submissive activities that we engage in developed out of suggestions put forth by Michelle. And now, I had an entirely new collection of suggestions to process.
What would become of our marriage, I wondered, if I sought out and found another man to bring into our relationship? Could my husband adjust to the life of a sissy cuckold the way that Michelle’s Jason has? I would not turn him into the complete sissy maid that Michelle described. I love and respect him too much for that. On the other hand, the mental image of my man bent over the lap of a bigger, stronger, more-viral man, his panties caught around an ankle as he squeals like a girl and flutter kicks his feet in response to a thorough warming of his bottom…
My second orgasm was every bit as overpowering as the first, and it was quickly followed by a third. I knew I was considering cuckoldry only because of the extremely oversexed condition I’d built up all afternoon, and the fantasy of having another man with a really big cock was feeding off of and being fed by the pleasure that my husband was providing.
A few minutes after my third, or possibly my fourth orgasm, I gained enough self-control to pause the action long enough to hop off the bed and strip down to what remained of my lingerie. It was black and lacey. Hubby loves that look. Men are so easy.
I took the chain with the little gold key from around my neck and removed hubby’s chastity cage. It had been less than a week since his last short period of freedom, but on reflection, that one ended with a ruined orgasm, so I wasn’t being too permissive in allowing him another chance at release. I had to have a cock in me. And God help him if he did not bring me off first.
END of Erin Ch: 15
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