A Change in Our Marriage - The Sissy Cuckold

by Sara Desmarais

  "Nine, dammit, Sara, please...." I yelped.

  She responded with another blow, I was gasping for breath.

  "Count," she hissed. "Ten, hell, Sara, ten, please, enough, okay, shit I said I was sorry."

  "No, my pet, not enough. Do you think my father stopped when my mother begged that it was enough? The begging only means you havn't learned at all."

  "Wait," I squirmed, "how many are you...I mean..."

  "Twenty-five," she said, a stern look in her eyes, a look that said I'd better not question her. But I could not help it.

  "Please, Sara, don't."

  "Get up then, sissy, don't take your punishment. Not really sorry were you, for being a selfish bitch? Were you?"

  But I was sorry. I bowed my head, shamed at what I was doing. Sara adjusted herself under my weight, pulled her legs together, and I realized that my cock, or cockette was resting on her nyloned thighs. My struggles, and her fight to hold me down, had caused her skirt to ride up her legs. My cock was resting on the nylon, the smooth nylon, and growing. Fucking growing.

  Sara smiled, feeling it too, pulled her legs slightly apart, then squeezed them back together, trapping my cock between her thighs, trapping it between nylon, slippery, sexy nylon. I could feel it, the old fashioned nylon, much as Sara's mother would have worn, now full circle. Instead of on her mother, the punished, on Sara, the tormentor.

  WHAM! "Eleven," I squealed. The blow made me jump. Jumping made my cock rub between her thighs. Oh, fuck, I thought, oh fuck. Oh no, no, no. The pain made me jump, making my cock rub against her nylons.

  "Twelve," I moaned, jumping again, rubbing again.

  "Thirteen." She shifted her legs, actually rubbing my cockette, which was now completely swollen, rubbing her legs.

  She waited, while my breathing leveled out, I was panting, my ass was burning, but now, this new sensation, my sexual energy flowing from my cock to my body.

  I could sense a smile in her voice, "Shall I continue, lover," she cooed.

  "Yes...yes, please, Sara, don't stop." I meant the sensation between her legs, not the blows. But one came with the other. The pleasure was accompanied by pain.

  "Fourteen, oh Sara...," I gasped, sexual energy flooding me, pain running through me.

  "Fifteen," I yelped again, this blow harder than any before it. I was close to my limit, the limit of my tolerance for pain...but I wanted the pleasure too...my head was floating.

  I was having trouble concentrating on the number.

  "Are you sorry for acting selfish," she asked.

  "Yes, Sara, I am" I said, tensing.

  "Sixteen." The blow radiated through my body, ran with the sexual tension from my cock, joined.

  "Are you sorry for trying to act like a man this morning, like you can control me, like my father did to my mother," she snarled, landing her hardest blow yet.

  "Seventeen, oh Sara, please, I...I can't take it, yes, I'm sorry for acting like a man," I gasped out in quick breaths. My God, I realized, I'd fallen deep, deep into a trap. What did Sara have inside her? What had we awakened?

  "Are you sorry for having such a small little dick, for being so pathetic a lover?"

  "Please, Sara," I waited for the blow, "Yes, please," I waited, wanting anything to keep her pressure on my cock, to keep the pleasure mixed with pain.

  "Ohhhhhhh, eighteen, eighteen," I repeated myself, jerking.

  I tensed for another blow...waited.

  "Yes, Ma'am...." WHAM!

  "Nineteen."

  "Are you sorry for being a sissy?"

  "Yesssss."

  The most powerful whack yet, my ass was on fire. "TWENTY!" My cock was straining. I was getting very dizzy, I was breathing too fast.

  "You want me to fuck men, don't you sissy," she demanded.

  "Ohhhh, yessss, Sara, yes, yes I do."

  "TWENTY ONE!" I was close to sobbing.

  "You want them to cum in my pussy?"

  "Yessssss, SSSAAARRRAAA," I moaned as the twenty-second blow came down, barely able to say the number.

  "Because you want to lick it up, don't you sissy?"

  "Yes...yes...yes...Sara...anything." Anything indeed, I was desperate for it, the pain, the pleasure.

  SMACK! "Twenty three," I gasped.

  "Who is your mistress," she grunted, taken over by the power she had over me. That power, intoxicating to her.

  "You are Sara," I yelled as the twenty fourth blow with the hairbrush connected on my ass.

  "Who is your fucking mistress," she howled, slamming down on my ass for the twenty-fifth time.

  "Twenty Five," I screamed, "you are Sara, you are. You are my mistress," I yelled, squirming, ass on fire, cock on fire, head spinning, delirious with the mixture of pain and pleasure.

  "YESSSSSSSSSSSS," Sara yelled back, squeezing her thighs together one last time, and then pushing me, as hard as she good, off her lap, onto the floor, spreading out in the chair. That last gasp of friction with the nylon sent me into spasms. I landed on the floor on my hands and knees in front of Sara, and like a fucking dog, humped the air as an orgasm washed over me, shaking, violently, cumming, shooting onto the floor below me.

  I glanced at Sara, still shaking. It was obvious that she too had an orgasm, a powerful orgasm, for she was almost convulsing, shaking, bending back and forth, breathing as if she'd run ten miles.

  We both grunted, both exhausted. "Oh my." I had a fleeting thought, not only did I cum all over the floor, but Sara, sweet Sara, was so into this, so powerfully charged, that she'd had a violent orgasm without even touching her pussy. What creature was I married to, what beast was this, what manner of animal could do this?

  Her breathing slowing, orgasmic waves still washing around her body, she looked down at me, smiled, a far away smile. "You made a fucking mess, Julie," she said sleepily. I feared her smile. I was terrified. "You need to clean it up," she said, laughing. My face froze, twisted, pleading.

  She chuckled, holding on to her orgasm. "Not this time, not yet. Get a towel, sissy, and clean it up. Hurry, before I change my mind." I darted into the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and bent down, quickly cleaning the mess. Oh, fuck, I was afraid she was going...going to make me....I shuddered.

  When I was done, she looked at me. "Go..go to my dresser, top shelf, get out the chastity cage, she ordered.

  "Sara, I...I thought you said...that we didn't..." I was worried. She was so right before, it was the sexual pleasure that kept me going farther down this road, farther than I ever intended to go. I was afraid that she was going to push me too far. The funny thing is that I was not worried where she was going, how depraved she was getting, but that I would not enjoy it. I could not have taken last night in chastity.

  "Get it," she said, ignoring my pleas.

  Putting it on my now limp cock, again, the mixture of my nakedness and her divine femininity making me feel that much more submissive, she chuckled. "You know, lover, as much as I tease you about your 'small' cock, saying things to push your sexual buttons, I have to say, it really is so small, all kidding aside, it's just a nub, really."

  Her honest words honestly stung.

  "Now, lover, here is the deal, sit on the bed, listen to me. I'm going shopping with some girlfriends. And don't get your twisted mind all in a sexual frenzy, that's all it really is. We are having lunch, going to the mall, hitting the spa, girl stuff. I need a break, and so do you."

  "You, dear lover, have some thinking to do while I'm gone. Some thinking this weekend, really. That's part of the reason for the chastity. I don't want you thinking with your little cock, I want you thinking with your heart and your mind. I want you thinking about us and our relationship, about what we've done and what we might do."

  "Sara, I have..."

  "No, stop," she cut me off, "Listen. Come with me," she said, walking out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. I watched her lock the door from the outside. When we bought the house, all the bedroom doors had locks, but we really never used them. H
eck, I did not even remember where my key was.

  "Into the guest room," she smiled, walking down the hall in front of me. Listen, you can't imagine how vulnerable you feel naked, in the presence of a clothed woman, a mistress, really.

  "Here, sit on the bed," she said, pointing to the bed in the guest room. "For the rest of the weekend, you are going to be naked, love. I don't want your mind clouded or influenced by that treasure of lingerie up there. Of course, I don't want it spoiled by any men's clothing either. Free your mind, love, think like a man, a woman, a sissy, whatever. Free it from me, from the clothes, from your cock, from anything. I want you to think about this. About last night. About today. And tomorrow after lunch we will talk.

  "While I am gone, and tonight, I want you to stay in here, love, where you can think. There is nothing in here, no books, no radio, no television. It's kind of like solitary, in a way, so your mind is free to think."

  "Sara, I..."

  "Shhh, almost done. I've switched the lock on this door, love, and I'm going to lock you in. Please, don't protest, don't say anything, okay, just trust me, I know what I'm doing. Just trust me like you have so far. Please, John, please, for us."

  She sounded so...strained, uncomfortable. I had a lingering bad feeling about this, but I loved Sara, and, given the fucked up situation I was in, I'm not sure I had much else to hold onto than trust in my wife, trust in the woman I loved as much as life itself.

  "Please, John," Sara asked, using my masculine name again, "please, for us, just trust me."

  "Of course, Sara," I sighed, "of course."

  "I love you, John," Sara smiled, walking out the door, locking it behind her. I looked around, thinking I'd better not get hungry, there was no food in here. I suppose I'd be fasting for a day, too. At least I had a bathroom and water, I thought.

  Did time drag on? Oh yes. I had no clock, just the light out the window. I thought and thought, about what we did, and what Sara had done. About what I had done, too, what I'd let her do. I soul searched, deep thoughts about what I wanted, from Sara, from myself, from life.

  When it was dark, I started to doze. Some time I heard Sara quietly come home. I dreamed, my thoughts and dreams mashing together. I had nightmares, of losing Sara.

  When morning came, I took time to shower and to sit quietly, alone with my thoughts. Time had no meaning in those 24 hours. All that existed was my thoughts about Sara and me and our future.

  I heard Sara coming down the hall, turning the key in the lock. She opened the door, still in a nightie, a pink chemise, little panties, looked at me, her eyes melting my heart. She motioned for me to follow her down the hall, into our bedroom.

  On the bed were a pair of navy blue cotton boxer shorts and a pair of pink satin lace trimmed tap panties with a matching bra.

  "John, before anything else, you need to tell me, which husband do you want to be to me? This is your choice, John, man or woman, cotton or satin? I want you to choose, unexcited, without sexual teasing, just choose."

  I looked back and forth from the boxers to the lingerie. It was the moment of decision. I didn't and couldn't know what her reaction would be to either, I could not tell. Did she want the man or the woman? Would one push her away and one draw her closer? I suppose it did not matter, because neither of us could live a lie anymore. I had to choose and hope, choose and pray, choose and then let her make her choice.

  I walked to the bed, looked at the boxers to my left, the lingerie in my right.

  "Sara, I'm sorry," I said, picking up the lingerie, "I...I choose the lingerie."

  Her eyes were watering up, a small tear running down her cheek, a look of disappointment in her face. She stared at me.

  I watched her, my heart sinking. It wasn't the choice she wanted, I thought. But I stood my ground, I'd made my choice.

  "Are you sure," she asked.

  "Yes."

  "Put it on, then," she said, darkly? I could not be sure.

  I slipped into the tap panties, fastened the bra around my flat chest. "Well, love, I'm sorry," she looked at me.

  I continued to hold my ground.

  "I'm sorry, but you are going to need something to fill out that bra," she said, a small smile cracking on her face.

  "Is...is this...is this the right choice," I asked?

  "Yes, lover, oh yes...yes...and yes," she melted, walking to me, hugging me, tightly.

  I was pleased I'd chosen the lingerie...but my mind was clouded too. What if I'd chosen the other? "Sara, the..the boxers...what if I'd chosen..."

  "Shhh, Julie, shhh, don't...don't say that, please, I...I don't want to..."

  I let it go, just happy for the warmth of her love.

  "Come here, love, let's get that stupid chastity cage off you," she smiled at me. Yes, another reinforcement of the correct choice. Perversely, the lingerie involved sexual freedom.

  "Do you understand what your choice means, Julie?"

  "Some."

  "Well, Julie, don't worry, it's a journey we will take and share together, always together."

  "Well...what...what now, Sara?"

  "What now? We take time to enjoy ourselves, to be ourselves," she smiled at me, coming to me, kissing me, enjoying me.

  It was a normal week for Sara and me, as normal a week once again as we could have. We both had busy weeks at work, hardly time for any more of Sara's games.

  Not that she did not always take the opportunity, even if not fully involved, to continue to push, to continue to train. A normal week did not mean 'normal' in the sense that most people would understand. A normal week meant that I dressed appropriately. I began to choose my lingerie, every morning picking out something appropriate to wear under my suit to work. I seemed to grow partial to garter belts, stockings, panties, and a camisole, a nice "work" outfit.

  After work on Monday, before dinner, Sara gently admonished me that I should be wearing makeup at home, as a proper lady would. I took it as a small scolding, as if I had forgotten something important. Sure I had, makeup. So I took to wearing makeup too, after work taught by Sara how to correctly apply it.

  Sure, a normal week, even if it involved me in lingerie, learning to apply makeup.

  Lingerie, makeup, and...well...who can forget the rest of the clothes? Coming home, changing out of my suit into a dress, or skirt and blouse, a bra, my fake breasts.

  Now, normal meant that I was making choices myself, participating more and more in my own feminization.

  Yes, to Sara, normal was no longer John. Normal was Julie.

  I had hoped that the weekend would provide some more intense fireworks, but Friday and then Saturday night turned to nothing heavier than television. Sure, laying around with Sara, lounging in lingerie, some petting, cuddling, and of course, sexual frustration for Julie.

  Sunday Morning--The week ahead

  We were laying in bed, watching the news. I was laying back on Sara, wrapped in her arms as she teased and toyed with my fake breasts.

  "I love your breasts," she whispered, rubbing them.

  "Oh, me too, but..."

  "But what, Julie?"

  "I love the weight of them, the feel of them moving around, but I wish...I don't know...you love having your breasts played with, your nipples licked. I like the sight of your doing it to me, but I feel nothing."

  "Oh, trust me, lover, you have no idea what you are missing," she giggled.

  "Really?"

  "Oh, yes. The nerve endings, alive with energy. Why, last week, when Steve was massaging my breasts while we...oh it was amazing."

  I frowned at the sudden mention of last Friday and her unfaithfulness.

  "You know, you don't have to be like this, Julie."

  "What do you mean?"

  Squeezing one of the breasts, "all dead and insensitive. You could feel like I did, when he twisted my nipples, held my breasts in his hands while he pushed his cock in me."

  She kept twisting like that. I'd think of my breasts, and Steve would come up.

&nbs
p; "Sara, wait, what are you talking about."

  "Do you want your nipples to get hard like mine? Do you want your chest to be more sensitive?"

  "I...I suppose, but...how?"

  "Oh, did I tell you, Steve called me Friday."

  "Steve...Steve called?"

  "Easily, there are things you could take to increase the sensitivity of your chest, babe."

  She was fucking with my brain. I could not concentrate on one conversation, she kept changing back and forth, Steve and breasts.

  "Things? What things?"

  "Yes, Steve wants to go out with me," she purred, teasing a fake nipple.

  "Sara, stop, one thing at a time!"

  "What? Steve...asked you out?"

  "Sure. Hormones."

  "Hormones? You want me to...to take hormones?"

  "Yes, he said he had a great time at the club."

  She was deliberately trying to fuck with my mind, to keep me off balance switching topics.

  "What did you say?"

  "At the club?"

  "Yes."

  "Or about hormones. I said they have hormones now, for older women, that release a small amount of estrogen in the body. They would make your nipples and breasts sensitive, and maybe grow a little, but they would not give you huge tits.

  "But...but what about..." I asked, terrified?

  "Well, not that it much matters in your case, but it does not stop you from having an erection. It just would not be as big, or as strong. You can still have powerful orgasms, but actually they'd really feel more like a woman's orgasm. Well, I suppose that's not completely true, you may have some trouble sometimes with an erection, but not an orgasm. But, if you might not get hard some time, it's not like that's any great loss," she chuckled.

  Hormones? I was scared, to say the least.

  "What do you think," she asked?

  "About hormones?"

  "No, silly about Steve?"

  "I...I don't know."

  "I think you should take them, love, I think it would be a big help. But I think that is something you need to think about for awhile, too."

  "You want that, Sara?"

  "Steve?"

  I knew she was trying to confuse me on purpose, making it hard for me to focus, even protest, one or the other.