You Can Always Say No Ch. 04

"If I could give back to you ten times the pleasure you have given me in the past two days alone, I wouldn't feel I had done enough. If last night was the most physically intense sex I have ever had in my life, Saturday night was the most emotionally intense. I don't want you to ever think you can't please me unless you take me the way a man does."

"Y-you don't think of me as a man anymore?" Alan asked querulously. "Oh my God, what have I done?"

"Shhhhhh," I hissed. "Stop that. You are just being silly now. The truth is, I don't think of 'Angie' as a man. How could I? Why would I want to? She is my girlfriend, my slut, and I love her dearly just that way. That doesn't mean I deny the existence of my husband or have stopped loving him. I just… put him away, someplace safe, while Angie is here with me. When you, Alan, return to me, I love you unconditionally, as I always have and always will.

"If it is really important to you, you can go back to being my man right now, full time. We will cut your hair and remove your nails. I will put 'Angie' away, welcome you into my arms and our bed and I will be your loving, devoted wife forever more. But Baby, if you will be honest with yourself, I don't think that's what you really want; not now, after what we have already experienced - and what might lay ahead.

"I'll admit; there is something about the last five days that confuses me. You told me Saturday night – the night I fucked your sweet, tight little pussy – was the most intense sexual experience of your life. I don't need any convincing on that; I saw it with my own two eyes. You also told me 'Angie' came last night while fucking me like a man. I will have to take your word on that because you fucked me so hard, I was completely out of my mind. If you came, it also means you ate your cum out of my pussy afterwards, because I was mostly clean down there. Did you?"

"Yes," he admitted softly.

"That is what confuses me. Last night, Angie, the most delectable little trollop I have ever known, pounded my pussy in a way you, My Husband, never have in all the time I have known you. It was… ferocious, like being fucked by a complete stranger, a strange man, not my Angie. Then, Angie sucked the cum out of my just-fucked pussy like the slut she is. Perhaps the question I should have asked this morning is, was it good for you; as good as Saturday night?

He hesitated.

"No," he sighed.

"Sweetheart," I admonished firmly, "this is really, really important. You have to be honest with me; more honest than you have ever been in your life. Aside from the obvious, what was different about the way we made love last night, versus all the nights I have made love to my husband? What were you thinking about as you were fucking me?"

Another hesitation.

"I-I wasn't," he stammered.

"You weren't… thinking?" I sought in confirmation.

"Nooo," he explained slowly. "I wasn't… fucking you."

That confused me more. I'm sure the expression on my face said so.

"What I mean is," he went on, "everything was working… down there, thanks to the Viagra. I was giving it to you really good, probably better than I ever had before. You were responding like a woman possessed, cumming almost continuously. I think that was the first time I have ever seen you completely lose control of your senses like that, surrender yourself to the moment and feeling – and it was something I was doing for you. If there is such a thing as a 'perfect moment', that was it. There has never been a question in my mind how completely in love with, and devoted to you I am, but last night was certainly a confirmation. I don't know if I can ever recapture that moment, but I will certainly never forget it.

"At the same time, it felt so…alien to me. It was an incredible turn-on in the sense that I was turning you on, but it really wasn't doing anything for me. I might as well have been fucking you with a dildo. I don't see how there could have been any difference physically; it had to have been in my head.

"Then I let my imagination run away with me. I became you, or rather, took your place. I was the slut I envisioned myself to be – the slut you have helped turn into reality – and my pussy was taking the pounding of my young life, at the hands of some big, muscular stud. The harder I pounded you, the harder he was pounding me. It was turning me on something fierce. I was so close, so close…

"Then, you screamed as you came again, a long, piercing scream that started low and built in intensity, as though it was being ripped from your soul. In my mind, that was my scream. I was experiencing that orgasm, and it was tearing my soul to shreds, even as it ripped apart yours. That was the moment I came in you. In my mind, my stud was filling me with his seed. It made me feel so complete, just as you did Saturday night."

At that moment, I shuddered through a spontaneous orgasm; just a little one, but perhaps the most emotionally satisfying yet. I didn't want to merely hold Alan; I wanted to climb inside him, and he in me, and combine our essences. I knew I had a confession to make to him, for which I would have to dig deep.

"My Love," I murmured, "since you have been honest with me, I need to be honest with you – and you must promise me you will keep this within the context of the love we share. Can you do that for me?"

"I promise," Alan avowed.

"I mentioned before, our lovemaking last night was like being fucked by a complete stranger. What if I told you that vision actually entered into my head? There I was, being taken, used like a piece of meat by some macho stud, right there before your eyes. It wasn't me trying to be mean or cruel, trying to humiliate you. It was me, laying bare my soul to you in the most personal, intimate way a woman can. It was me proclaiming: 'Here I am, My Love, laid out before you. I, the strong, assertive, confident, oh-so-proper professional, now throw all that away for you. I become the shameless slut you see here, because you have become that slut for me; one I treasure and cherish above all else. Everything I have of value, even pride, dignity, and self-respect, I offer to you now; I hold nothing back.' Can you accept me like that? Will you?

Alan paused for a moment, searching my eyes for… perhaps some sign of deceit? Apparently, he was satisfied with what he saw.

"Yes," he replied. "I can."

My heart began to pound. We were so close.

"We have also both expressed a desire for more," I continued, emboldened by his previous acceptance. "Now I want to ask you a serious question. Think about it carefully, in light of what we have already discussed. Do not allow your petty insecurities to speak for you. Here goes. Baby, I flat-out adore you as the slut you have become this week. If I asked you for more, would you give it to me?"

"Yes," he replied straightforwardly. "I would give you more."

"If what I wanted included you becoming the woman in our relationship exclusively, at least for a while, would you do it; just for me?"

His eyes clouded.

"Exclusively?"

"Yes, Sweetie," I explained softly. "That means behind closed doors, you would be giving up 'Alan' for a while. You would be 'Angie', my delectable little slut and fucktoy. We would still have sex, lots of sex, but I would be fucking you, just as we did Saturday night. Your clitty would not enter my pussy at all unless and until we decided to end our little arrangement. That's what I meant by you becoming the woman."

There was a brief flicker of panic in those Baby Blue eyes.

"Would you… want that?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh yes, Baby, yes," I assured him. "I now understand how fundamentally the dynamic of our relationship has changed. I know how much Angie means to you and I have never been happier. I just couldn't ask my Angie to fuck me as a man anymore, knowing how you felt about it now. Do you really think I could enjoy myself, knowing you were just going through the motions for my benefit? The answer is 'no'. We have already proven, with the help of toys, our sex life can be better than ever – for both of us. Let's try this new relationship for a while and see where it takes us. Please?"

He was trembling, afraid to ask that next, make-or-break question – the one I even now willed him to utter.

"T-then if we don't… anymore," he stammered, "t-that means you…."

"No, Baby," I avowed forcefully, gazing intently into his frightened eyes. "There is no 'me' or 'you'; there is only 'us'. We will do what you are suggesting. That is the logical end for the direction we are taking. I could not conceive of doing this behind your back and still proclaim my love for you to the whole world. I long to share your world and for you to share mine; all of it, every facet, to prove to you your happiness means everything to me."

"That is such a big step," he pointed out, "one that can't help but have consequences beyond our bedroom…"

"We will deal with those as they arise, together, as it should be," I countered.

"I can't help but feel it will change me, fundamentally, as a person – and us as a couple," he worried.

"Exactly," I encouraged. "That is the point of all of this, isn't it? You will have the opportunity to let loose the constraints of petty conformity and embrace the woman you envision yourself to be – the woman I envision you to be. I can only say again; you are not doing this for me, nor I for you. We are doing this for us. I know how scary this must all sound to you, to turn everything you have ever believed your relationship with me should be upside-down. Yet I know in my heart it is right for us."

"What if we decide it isn't right for us?"

"Then we will have at least tried, and can move on," I pronounced, "rather than never having tried and wondering 'what if?' I will welcome my husband back from that place in my heart where I have him locked away and we can live a full life together."

"In spite of everything," he confessed, glancing between his legs, "the more feminine I appear and feel, the more excited I become. I can't stop… I mean, it…."

"It gets hard," I finished for him, "and ruins everything. How can you truly feel like a girl when you have this thing down there, getting hard, spoiling the look, reminding you; you are just a man in a dress?"

Alan nodded his head, ashamed.

"Baby, you are so much more than that," I avowed. "I can help you with this problem, and any other that may arise. Your clit just requires a little extra 'persuasion' to catch up with the rest of you. If you will trust me, believe that I want this as much as you, nothing can come between us – not even this."

"How can we take care of this?" he asked.

"Let me show you," I offered, rising from the sofa with the two champagne flutes. "Come with me. Bring the ice bucket with you."

I led him to our bedroom, setting the two flutes down on my bedside table.

"Set the bucket on the dresser, then come to me," I instructed.

My husband complied.

"Remove your clothes for me," I purred. "All of them."

He did. I folded them neatly and placed them on the nearby chair. As I suspected, our talk had made him hard again. I went to the bathroom to fetch a washcloth, then filled it with ice from the bucket. Returning to Alan, I pressed the icy compress into his sex, even as I pressed the rest of me firmly against him, wrapping my other arm tightly around his waist. He trembled violently, trying to escape my freezing embrace.

"Calm yourself," I trilled soothingly in his ear. "Let it happen. It is all for the best."

His erection subsided in a minute or two. I set the washcloth down on the nightstand, then opened the bottom drawer and removed the shiny contrivance. Alan took one look and his eyes flew open in trepidation, recognizing the device for what it was.

"Honey, I don't know about this," he demurred.

"I do, I asserted without hesitation. "It might seem scary at first, but trust me. Once it's in place, I know in my heart you will feel better about yourself. Now, your clit goes into the tube like this… see how snugly it fits? So, let's wrap these two bands around your hips like so… then the tube pivots down and between your thighs like this… and then we…"

click – click – click

"… lock it all into place like this. Voila; you are properly chastised. See how slim and graceful it looks on you? It hugs your contours as though it is part of you. Now you won't have to worry about being strong for me, Baby. Your chastity will be strong for both of us. You can still pee – sitting down, as a woman should – but your little clitty won't be able to get hard, much less poke itself into places it doesn't belong. See how flat your front appears now? You are effectively a woman, my woman, and the only temptation you will have to resist is my cock in your pussy…."

I stepped up to my now-emasculated sissy, held him close and kissed him deeply. At the same time, my right hand gently caressed his exposed butt. I snaked my index finger between his cute buttcheeks and wiggled it teasingly at the entrance to his love nest.

"Of course," I murmured. "that's one temptation we don't want to resist, do we? See? It's designed to allow me unlimited access to your sissy sex. Let me prove it to you. Dress for me."

"H-how do you want me to…" he stammered.

"Shhhhh," I whispered gently, silencing him with one upraised finger to his lips. "Indulge yourself. Dress the way you feel right now. I want to watch."

We were at another crossroads, of a sort. His suit and other male accoutrements lay before him on the chair in the corner; his black-satin-and-lace lingerie was spread out on the bed. I smiled to myself as he reached for his stockings. Picking up the pile of male clothing, I strutted elatedly to his closet and hung everything up neatly, then positioned the loafers in the shoe rack. Selecting his black patent open-toed mules, I re-traced my steps to his dresser, selecting a recently-purchased garment from there. Once he had his stockings in place, I stepped in, eschewing the lingerie for something more erotic.

I wrapped the new black satin corset around his waist, fastened the front busk, then began cinching the laces closed. I didn't cinch them all the way down; that would come later. Still, once they were tied off, his torso had a nice shape to it. He fastened his stockings to the corset's garter tabs, showing amazing dexterity with those fabulous nails, then slipped his dainty feet into the high-heeled mules. While doing so, I had freshened our champagne flutes. Handing my lover his, I escorted him to the vanity table and pulled up a chair next to it.

"Make yourself sexy for me, Angie," I murmured. "You know what I like."

She did make herself sexy, doing a credible job after only one lesson. I sipped champagne and enjoyed every moment of the transformation. Although I hadn't requested it, she fetched her titties from a dresser drawer, sprayed the rear surfaces with a super-strong medical adhesive, applied them, then blended the makeup into her chest to make them appear to be real. I swallowed frequently to avoid drooling like a gibbering idiot.

She bent over on the bench until her head was between her knees, brushed her hair out and down, spraying it liberally with hair spray, then tossed it upright again, adding yet more spray to her fluffed-out mane. She finished with a few spritzes of Obsession, then turned her head over her shoulder and smiled coyly at me. By that time, my heart was hammering madly in my chest. My gorgeous sissy-slut had returned to me!

Arising from my chair, I strode deliberately to my bedside table and once again opened the bottom drawer. I made an elaborate show of strapping on the thick, eight-inch latex dildo, cinching it tightly in place. I saw the longing in Angie's eyes. She licked her lips in anticipation.

Come to me, My Love," I cooed, holding out my arms to her. "Get on the bed, on your hands and knees."

She complied, with my assistance. I positioned her, then myself behind her, spreading her thighs.

"Reach back, Slut," I commanded. "Feel my cock. Feel how hard I am for you. Do it now."

She reached back with her left hand and came in contact with my hardness, scant inches from the entrance to her love nest. She gasped in awe as her fingertips explored its girth, trailing down its length.

"Do you see how hard you make me?" I asked. I want you real bad. Do you want me, Baby?

"Yessssssss."

"I don't think you are wet enough yet, Baby. Wouldn't it feel better if I made you wetter?"

"Yesssssss."

I had the tube of K-Y at the ready. I squeezed a generous dollop on the first two fingers of my left hand and eased them forward, parting her puckered star on the first attempt. She had closed up a little since Saturday night. Still there wasn't as much resistance as there had been that first time. That was good. When Alan had popped my anal cherry, I had needed three nights a week for two weeks before it had really begun to feel good, and that had been with a smaller dildo than this. She would need several sessions at least before she was sufficiently stretched out to truly enjoy the fucking I would most certainly enjoy giving her. After a few in-and-out thrusts, another dollop of K-Y, then a few more thrusts, I knew she was about as ready as she was going to be.

"I think you are ready now, Slut," I cooed. "How about it? Are you ready for me? Do you want my cock as much as I want you?"

"YESSSSSSSSS!"

"Show me, Slut!" I ordered. "Take my cock in your hand and guide it into you. I know you know how. Show me how much you want me!"

She reached back once again, grasped the slippery shaft with one hand, then eased it forward to the entrance of her hot little hole. Without hesitation, she pushed the knob head into her pussy until it was buried inside her. I took over from there, easing forward with my hips. It took two dozen gentle in-and-out thrusts before my cock was buried to the hilt. I heard the exhaled sigh as I bottomed out. I could just picture her face, eyes closed, with the look of supreme satisfaction on her lips. I began gently fucking her, in and out, in and out.

"Do you like that, Baby?" I asked.

"Oh, yesssssss," she hissed. "That feels wonderful."

I suspected it wasn't quite as 'wonderful' as she let on, being only her second time. Then again, the power of fantasy, aided and abetted by my verbal stream-of-consciousness skill at getting inside Angie's head, seemed to be making a difference. I knew she wanted it to feel wonderful – the sooner, the better. She wanted me to enjoy it, too, which I was. God, I loved my sissy hubby!

"You make me so hot for you, Angie," I intoned softly, caressing his smooth, supple body. You are such a little tease. You dress so conservatively for work, Miss Prim and Proper, the good little office girl no one suspects to harbor wicked thoughts. We know differently, don't we? I mean, I strip off that prim, proper little business suit and what do I find? Why, the sexiest, dreamiest, most feminine lingerie a guy could ever hope to see – and stockings, not pantyhose! Do you know what a turn-on it is to see real stockings, held up by a garter belt? That would make any guy instantly hard in his pants. It made me hard, Baby. All I could think about was ripping off my pants, sinking my big, thick cock into your tight, tantalizing pussy and making you my little bitch.