Husband turned into sissy cuckold

She was in bed already when I went up. I glanced at her. Her tits round and bulging. She was so hot. She made me so horny.

She was reading. Without glancing up she spoke. She said she ‘knew’ what I had been up to.

‘Knew’ knew what? She couldn’t possibly know about that pair of her panties I had tried on. Again and again.

I said nothing. Hoped it would go away. She spoke louder. Slower. Like I was stupid. She said she knew. Knew I had been in her pantie drawer.

And she held them up, on the end of one finger. I babbled. My face burnt red.

She turned back to her book. Saying that if I wanted to dress like a girl, I should have told her. She could be more accommodating that I thought.

Suddenly she threw the cover back, patted her thighs. I was confused. So she made it crystal clear. I was to get over her knee. For keeping this from her.

Of course I had dreamt about this sort of thing. Fantasised. But did I really want to go down this road? It was one thing getting spanked by a pro-domme, when you could choose how long for, and walk away and still be in control of your life, but did I want this? But she had me in a corner. I climbed over, lay across her lap. I felt stupid. And curiously vulnerable. She slapped at my arse. It didn’t hurt. I just lay there feeling stupid. She slapped again and again. It stung. Then stung some more. Then the stinging didn’t die down before the next slap landed, then it burnt.

I gritted my teeth. I bit my lip. I tried not to let her hear it. But it was now hurting. really hurting. I needed it to stop. I said. Ow. Quietly at first, then louder, shouting it, then whined it pathetically, finally I asked her to stop. She pretended she hadn’t heard, so I had to beg and plead. And I had to promise to never dress up again without her. To always wear what she said, and to always do as she told me. I lay on my front to go to sleep that night. Arse still burning.

I was ready for work next day about to leave, then there she was at the door. Pink panties swinging from a single finger. Her eyes boring into me. Smirk on her face. I was told to put them on. I tried to protest, but I knew I needed to do as she said, so right there I took off my shoes, trousers and boxers. Got into the lacey light pink panties , pulled up my trousers and stood in front of her. She was clearly pretty pleased with herself. Put a finger under my chin. Made me look at her. Told me I was now her panty bitch. I bulged hard as she said it. Her hand at the back of my trousers. Inside, then cruelly pulling at the back of the panties. Crushing one of my balls. ‘Yes, yes’ I shouted in confession. I was her panty bitch. I was hers. I would do whatever she said.

It was a long day at work. I was horny. My arse still tingled. I had to constantly adjust my panties. And I could feel them. All day I could feel them. Reminding me. The sound of her voice rang in my ears. Every word she had said since last night. Repeating over and over again. Every time I thought of her my heart beat faster, my cock throbbed harder.

I wanted to be with her more than anything. But I feared where this was all leading, and that fear excited me further.

At last home time came. I rushed out as soon as I could. Made my way home. She was sat there. Stunning as ever. I nervously fidgeted with my fingers. She told me to stop in the living room doorway. And to strip. I did so, until I was left standing in just my pink panties. She took me by the hand, led me to stand in the centre of the room. Circled me, playfully patting at my arse. Making eyes at me as she adjusted the skimpy panties to sit just so.

I was so horny now. I bulged, my balls were heavy with unshot cum. I ached for some attention down there. She patted my crotch. Asked if I was liking being her girl. Yes, yes I said. Did it excite me to be her bitch. Oh Yes.

She grinned. Said she was going to use me. Wild thoughts of her mounting me and riding my cock raced through my mind. She held up a little black dress. Frilly white underskirts. White Apron. My heart sank, it was a maid’s dress. But first, she said for the underwear. I had to start by getting out of my panties, then into a tight, pink corset with white lace trim. She squeezed me into it. Pulling hard to fasen the clips at the back. She giggled that I wouldn’t be able to undress without her. At the time I thought she was joking, but later I was to find out it was all too true. She handed me black stockings to clip to the suspenders that hung from the corset. Laughed as I struggled to get them up my legs. and clip them in. Then put the dress over my head. Tied the bow at the back tight. I was restricted, uncomfortable, and horny as hell. At last she dangled the panties from one finger. Asking what sort of girl would forget to wear panties. I blushed at the way she said it.

I was directed to step into some shoes. Pretty plan and black. A heel about two inches high. ‘For me to get used to’

She stood back. It had been only a few minutes, but I was transformed. She picked up something else that was new. I cringed as she swished it through the air. It was a bamboo cane. She made it clear she wouldn’t have to spank me again, she was sure we could reach agreement quickly on everything now that she had a cane. I tried to laugh it off. But her cold stare was only too serious. I swallowed, eyes were down at the floor. She pointed to the kitchen and said I was to clean it. I scampered there, relieved to be out of reach for just a while, and proceeded to clean every last inch of the kitchen, every surface, every floor tile, the hob the dished, even wiping the dishwasher down afterwards.

She returned. Looking all dressed up. The sound of her walking to the kitchen made me hard before I even saw her. When I did see her I had to stifle a whimper of desire. She said my work on the kitchen was ‘not bad’ but there were standards I needed to learn about, I was told to follow her.

The laptop was up and running. The unfaithful wives website was open.  I glanced at it. Didn’t know what to think. So she explained. Very slowly. Very deliberately. She didn’t mind dressing me up. She wasn’t going to complain about my lack of manliness. About being married to a ‘pathetic bitch’ as she put it. But she still needed a man. A cock. A fucking. I tried to speak, but every time my mouth moved she swished her cane, and I shut up. She really was in charge now.

She asked if I thought I could satisfy her as a man. I told her yes, of course, hadn’t I always…. She shut me up again. Told me slowly, deliberately, pausing between every word that I would never fuck her again. I would never put my cock in any woman ever again.

I felt sick. She did not allow me to speak. She pointed at the laptop, said I was to go and get my credit card so I could pay for a real man to satisfy her.

This was too much. This was past a little game. I said loudly and firmly No. It was too much. I would not, could not, let her be with other men.
She laughed at me. Literally laughed out loud, giggling at the thought of me ‘letting her’ do anything speaking of ‘other’ men.
Then she turned serious. Said we could reach an agreement. Her voice tuned icy cold and hard. Turn around and bend over ‘bitch’. I could see her knuckles whiten as she gripped tightly on her cane. I swallowed. She repeated her command, and I complied, glancing back to beg her not to really hurt me. She sharply told me to shut up and I was bent over our dining table, heart beating, legs quivering in my too tight corset.
She lifted my dress, pulled my panties down to mid thigh. She was stood at my side quickly tapping the cane on my arse. Then suddenly a pause in the tapping. A vicious swish a sharp pain in my arse cheeks just as the sound of the cane landing reached my ears. My body jerked. I gasped at the pain. I looked at her. She had a superior smile. A smile of victory as the cane landed again. I cried out, and she hit me again and again. I screamed in pain, I begged for mercy.
And finally she stopped. I was sweating. And quivering in broken fear. I was blinking back tears, Praying I wouldn’t break down and sob.
And she asked me. What was I? I was her bitch. What was I going to do for her this evening? I was going to pay for her to get fucked by a real man.
I was broken as I said it. And I let out a loud sob. I was quietly snivelling as she leant over me pulled the computer to me and I entered my credit card details. I glanced at the picture of the man she had chosen. Yes she said, a big black man, with a big black cock.
She took me upstairs, cuffed my hands behind my back and to the leg of the bed  in the spare room. I had to sit with my bruised arse on the carpet. God it hurt. I still sobbed quietly as I heard the doorbell ring. She greeted hi, led hi straight upstairs. I heard him ask if she was married. And she told him her husband was tied up in the spare room. I was almost sick with fear at the thought of her bringing him in to see me.
Then I heard them fuck. Noisily. Heard her moan and shout,. Compliment him. And cum. Then she showed him to the door. I was still snivelling as she came in, untied me and shoved my face into her sodden pussy.
I licked her hungrily, obediently, blinking my tears away.