Sissy Wife Story

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Sissy Wife Story



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16 Mar 2021 12669 readers Score 8.8 (90 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt
At 19 I was already very feminine. I was in the punk rock scene where genderbending was normal and I usually dressed in stockings, black boots, short skirts and lingerie. I had already been with several guys, I loved them using me like a girl. 
I worked at a restaurant and would often change clothes after work for a night out. There was a bartender named Rick that would playfully tease me, telling me how hot I looked, whistling and other things. He was in his 30s, very masculine and former military. I kind of thought he was an asshole.
One night I was waiting for a guy to pick me up after work. I had changed to fishnets, a plaid skirt and a band t shirt cut below my nipples. It was getting late and the guy hadn't shown up. I was pissed.
"Need a ride?" The Rick asked as he walked out. 
"I suppose so." I replied a bit hesitant. But it was late and wasn't a great area for a guy dressed like a whore to be walking around.
Rick suggested that we go by his house and have a few drinks. I figured why not. 
Over drinks he started asking me some questions. He asked me if I liked guys and if I liked getting fucked in the ass. I felt myself blush as I admitted I did. He told me while he was overseas he had been with several lady boys and crossdressers, and found it really hot. I knew he was going to end up fucking me. 
I knew what to do next. I got on my knees in front of him and unzipped his pants. His cock was already half erect and was really thick. It grew in my mouth as I sucked him. "Oh yeah...thats nice" he whispered as he enjoyed my mouth. 
I was really turned on. I hadn't been with a guy this old before. Most were around my age. He asked if I wanted to go to the bedroom and I eagerly agreed.
I sucked him some more and then he asked me if I had ever been handcuffed. I told him no and he asked if I would like to be. "It's really hot. I think you'll love it." He told me.
I agreed. For some reason the idea of him making me helpless sounded awesome. Honestly I had fantasized about being tied up for a long time. 
He cuffed me to the headboard. It felt awesome. My cock was hard in my panties. Now cuffed and face down with my ass in the air I waited for what came next. He spanked me lightly, and oh my. I found myself moaning with pleasure. I had never been spanked before and I loved it.
"Oh you like that do you?" He asked. "How about a little more?" I felt his belt across my ass. He slapped it a little harder each time. The leather made a nice snap each time it hit my ass. 
"MMMM you took that well." He praised. "Now you get a little reward."
I felt his hands spread my cheeks open and his face against my ass. His tounge flicked my hole and I almost lost my mind.
"Oh yeah I'm gonna eat this pussy good! Get it all wet and ready." I had never been rimmed before. It was the most awesome thing I had ever felt. I hoped he would never stop. His tounge and then his fingers drove me insane.
"Mmmm yeah I'm gonna fuck this pussy now." I felt him squirt lube all over me and then the head of his cock press against me. I felt that sweet pain I had growm to love as he pushed against my resistance, then burst through. He was thick, I'd never had one quite this thick before. He fucked me slow at first, then hard then slow again. 
I lay there face dowm moaning like a bitch. The guys I had been with before just always rammed it in and came fast. He took his time, switched up his speed, and really fucked me good. His hands gripped my hips pushing me towards him. He also occasionally slapped my as and called me names. 
He pulled out and flipped me on my back. He spread my legs wide and fucked me deep. He came in me, cumming for a long time as his cock twitched inside of me, filling me up. 
After his orgasm he looked down on me. I loved the way a guy looked at me after cumming, like he had just conquered me, I always felt like his conquest. 
He uncuffed me and told me to jerk off. Nobody had ever let me do that before, the guys never wanted anything to do with my cock. I left it in my panties and came almost instantly.
A week later I moved in with him. I became his submissive sissy. He called me his "wife." I learned I was a natural submissive as he taught me more.
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Part 2 of Sissy Housewife's Weeks Trial.
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My First Time as Sara... Pt. 01 This is the story of how I became the girl Sara.
Sara and Steve... Again Sara and Steve find each other again...
Sissy Housewife's Weeks Trial Would be Sissy Housewife has a weeks trial with a man.
Neighbourhood Terror to Sissy Pt. 01 A story about a neighbour who wants some payback.
Sara Flies the Friendly Skies Sara becomes a sexy flight attendant and becomes a mile high.
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This is part 2 of Sissy Housewife's Weeks Trial
It was two weeks ago that Greg told me I had passed my weeks trial. He lay down the rules.
Tell my family and friends I was moving to the Australian outback
(I only had a sister that never liked me after she caught me in her clothes)
I would sell or give away all my possessions and hand over the money to him.
Give away all but one set of male clothes.
(In case of doctors' visits. These were to be locked away by Greg.)
I was to obey him in everything, or I would be thrown out with just the clothes on my back.
I was never to cover my legs with anything but stockings.
Hormones would never be allowed. He wanted a sissy housewife, not a trans woman.
I agreed to his conditions. I was scared at giving up my independence but thought that this is what women used to do when they married. They relied on their men for everything.
"I want a sissy housewife. You will always strive to look girly and feminine. You will always be a man underneath, a man forced to struggle his hardest to be the best wife he can be. With hormones it would be too easy. I get off on seeing you, a man forced to be as womanly as possible, just because I make you."
"I don't have too many clothes though Greg. I will have no money to buy more. What will I wear?"
"Don't you worry your empty head about that. You concentrate on keeping your husband happy and he will look after you."
Now I stood at the sink dressed as the perfect 1950's housewife. I was wearing seamed stockings held up by a 6-strap suspender belt. White, silk, French knickers. A white merry widow corset was squashing my waist and forcing my fat to form B cup breasts. I looked down and felt a tingle in my caged cock when I saw my pink toenails peaking out of my white 6-inch sandals.
I had to lean forward to see my feet as my knee length, cap sleeved, flowery housedress was held away from my legs by my voluminous net petticoat. I had bright pink painted nails covered by pink rubber gloves.
My hair was curly and dyed blond. When I saw myself in the mirror with my bright pink lipstick I nearly fainted with joy. Greg had ordered these clothes for me. They were perfect.
The dinner was almost ready, and he was due home any minute.
"Honey I'm home." He said in a mocking tone.
I turned; my hands covered in suds from washing up.
"No, you stay right there. Don't you dare move. You're perfect. You look like the perfect housewife."
He crossed the kitchen and slapped my bottom hard.
"Do you want to go over my knee? Perhaps you need a reminder of who the man of the house is?"
With that I felt his hand force my head into the sink. My head was inches from the water. He kicked my legs apart. My heels skidded as I tried not to fall.
I felt my dress and petticoats being pulled up over my back. His hand caressed my silk knickers.
I heard him unzip his fly. I had prepared myself a few hours ago. I would always have to ready when Greg was in the house.
Without foreplay he plunged into me, nearly lifting me off my feet. His cock felt enormous. I thought I was getting used to him, but he must have really been turned on.
Soon the kitchen echoed to the sounds of my heels skidding on the tiled fool and the slapping of flesh on flesh.
I panted and whimpered as he took savage pleasure in my body.
"I'm yours Greg. I'm your sissy housewife. Your's forever."
Then the reality hit me. I was now stuck in a life of makeup, perfume, pretty clothes, cooking, cleaning and being used for my husband's pleasure whenever he wanted. I was an old fashion housewife. A sissy housewife. I was his. I belonged to him.
I came harder than I have ever in my life. My legs gave way. I spasmed and as my body was being supported by Greg's strong hands and cock, he came. I felt him pumping his load into me. Marking me with his DNA. Forcing me to be part of him.
He pulled out and guided me to a chair.
"Now, what were you saying about dinner?"
as Sara i'm learning b good sissy wife
Thanks, another short part will be on here in a day or 2. Then I'm all storied out for a while. Got a lot going on at work.
Wow! Three new stories from my favorite author up at the same time. Whether her story is about life as a sissy, femininity, the search for gender identity, or relationships, Leeanna19 really delivers- often with a unique sensual and/or erotic flare. It is great to see an author master her subject matter and flourish.
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My perfect sissy housewife life and how it started!
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Hair was perfect, nails done, perfume applied delicately. The timer beeped in the kitchen and I checked on the oven with a smile - everything should be ready exactly when desired. I had that indescribable sense of accomplishment that comes when your husband would be home shortly and everything was coming together.
With about 15 minutes to go before he walked in the door I busied myself with final touches. The kitchen smelled amazing with rich aromas of spices - the roast was coming up on its fourth hour and I was secretly very pleased that it looked like I had timed it perfectly. I peeked in on it one more time: it smelled heavenly. I had chosen a lamb shoulder for tonight and was trying out a new glaze. A heavily used spice rack sat next to the stove - my hubby was always one for something with a little kick - and I had already set a bottle of wine to chill. I still didn't know much about wine but my husband kept a well appointed wine rack and if he stocked it then it was usually good. I had picked a bottle that looked promising.
I went to the table to double check the place settings, nudging a slightly out-of-place napkin back into line and lighting the candles. The snowy white linen table cloth looked like a picture with the delicate silverware arranged precisely around the edges. I was using the good plates tonight from hubby's china cabinet - every once in a while it was good to mix in a little glamor from time to time.
The cake I had made earlier sat temptingly on the sideboard. In my current condition I usually avoided sweets. I wasn't overly vain and hubby constantly said I "always looked amazing" so I wasn't necessarily compelled to diet. Nevertheless I had an image in my head of how I wanted to fill out my dresses and was committed to it.
But fresh strawberries in a moist shortcake were telling me I may need to allow an an exception tonight. It was our anniversary and I was determined to celebrate properly!
As the minutes ticked down I returned to the kitchen to remove my apron and set it back on its peg. One last look around at the bubbling pots and then to the hallway mirror to make sure I hadn't gotten mussed while I was fixing dinner for my lover.
My hair was permed into a short bob in what I thought gave me a very cool, retro look. Brown curls hung down with a little bounce and were (I thought) very nicely accented by the red bow atop my head. Originally I had been styling my hair myself (with a lot of help from YouTube) but I had finally gotten confident enough in my "femme" look that I had ventured out to a salon. It had been absolutely terrifying at first: I had always had a skinny, girlish look to me but most days I still didn't consider myself "passable". Hubby said different (he's always been so supportive!) but it took a good long while to work up the courage.
Once out and about though I had luxuriated in getting to do a properly feminine activity. The long eyelashes that I had perfectly curled at the salon topped off my sparkling blue eyes as well. I made a few touch-ups to my skillfully applied make-up. I was particularly proud of my artistry since I hadn't so much as held a lipstick when I first met my husband. It was he who had introduced me to all the wonders of domestic bliss and femininity.
I beamed at a wonderfully feminine face - partially transformed by hormones but also artfully contoured into girlish glee by my hand.
I smoothed the front of my dress, reveling in the way the white polka dots fell on the snow white folds. My 50's housewife look was never done halfway - I had my typical fluffy petticoats creating just the right amount of "poof" and ruler straight seems on my tan stockings. The garter belt holding them up was authentic vintage - hubby had found it for me in a trendy secondhand shop and it had a wide band girdle at the top that contributed nicely to my wonderful hourglass figure. Matching silk panties underneath helped keep me comfortably tucked in with no unsightly bulges. I caressed my shrinking waistline sensually as I admired my budding feminine curves.
A padded bra would have to suffice until I made more progress in THAT particular area however, I thought with a grimace. Once I had been convinced to transition full time I had taken to treatments happily but some things were progressing slower than others.
I had chosen pearls around my neck to enhance what little cleavage I had and to match the exquisite white heels my hubby brought me from his last business trip. That week had been agony as I sat home alone with no man to take care of but I found solace in thinking of myself as a brave martyr for those endless five days.
I preened a little more in the hallway, admiring the adorable woman I had become. While I waited patiently for the lord of the castle I thought a little about how I had gotten this far.
Ethan and I had met five years ago in a little bar near the apartment I rented. Before I was a domestic goddess I was a lanky teenager living in a dingy part of town. After dropping out of college I had taken a grimy job earning just enough to ply the local gay bars for some occasional company.
I cringed when I thought about my usual wardrobe back then - torn jeans and old tees...sometimes washed, most times not. My hair was always long but in greasy streaks, not the pert dos that I maintained today. The same dirty Converse sneakers adorned my feet every evening and, when I met Ethan, I was well into my trademark cruising "move" of sitting awkwardly at the corner of the bar and trying to look older than I was.
The bar was busy that Saturday, singles and couples mixing around in the lounges and dance floor. Despite the vast number of attractive guys though I had few hopes of bringing someone home. I went to clubs now mostly out of habit - the few times where I had worked up the courage to talk to someone ended badly, with me shyly sputtering and fidgeting.
The even fewer times I had actually gotten lucky had led to disappointing experiences all around.
Ethan was sitting by himself in a corner booth but it wasn't the space around him that made him stand out. In a room full of young grungy kids trying to quickly get as drunk and as handsy as possible here was a distinguished older gentlemen quietly sipping a glass of scotch. Close cut, salt-and-pepper hair topped off a handsome face and a tasteful sport coat gave him an almost regal look.
There were plenty of signs he was wealthy as well as handsome. The fact that the bartender had been content to leave an expensive bottle of liquor on the table with him probably said more than anything else but that wasn't what drew me to him. To me he seemed strong, peaceful...in control. There was an air of refinement that you didn't usually find in crummy little twink bars like this.
I spotted him long before he saw me. He sat and coolly scanned the room for what seemed like ages. I must have been staring when his eyes finally met mine because he gave me a little nod and a small lopsided smile.
Embarrassed to be caught I quickly looked down into my glass and stared intently at my beer. I cursed myself for being silly and stupid - I never had any luck at these places anyway and I certainly wasn't go to connect with someone like that. My heart sank a little as I resigned myself to another night alone in my dim studio apartment.
When I looked though I was surprised to see my mystery man still looking back at me. He hadn't moved, just calmly sipping his drink and looking across the bar at me. Even though I was sitting with my back to the wall I still spun around left and right to make sure he wasn't watching someone else. Each time I looked back though he was still there, his eyes borrowing into mine. I lamely raised a finger to my face and looked a question at him - his smile got a little broader and with a jerk of his head he motioned me over to join him.
Only two weeks after I met Ethan I had quit my minimum wage job and packed up the meager belongings that had filled my tiny apartment.
I heard the steps on the walk outside before the door opened. I smoothed my dress once more - no matter how many times I greeted my husband I always felt those same butterflies in my stomach. It made me giddy each time he walked into the house and I settled imaginary wrinkles in my skirt with nervous energy.
His smile was gorgeous when he walked in. "Hello, Darling." I melted a little as he took in my carefully constructed look.
"Welcome home, Dear." I responded meekly. A little tingle appeared under my petticoats as I took in his handsome frame and the well cut suit. Ethan always looked so dapper!
He had started putting little retro touches into his outfits too, to match the going theme we had in our house. While I found wonderful vintage dresses he occasionally would complement me with a skinny tie or a throw-back hat. It always made me feel like something out of black-and-white TV, completing a very sensual fantasy. Today he indulged in none of those gimmicks but I didn't care - he still looked amazing in his flawless power suit.
Strong arms set down a briefcase and wrapped themselves around my waist. I let out a girlish giggle as he lifted me a bit and put his lips to mine. He kissed me passionately and deeply, pressing my body tightly into his. I explored his mouth thoroughly with all the energy of having spent the entire day thinking
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