Dear Sister

Dear Sister

In your last letter you made me promise to write you back on my latest progress with Deedee. The story has been and still is, extraordinary and I can't wait to share. You must come visit so you can see for yourself and though my selfish needs are being met, provisionally, by my 'husband' I could use some of your fine attention soon. Play nice and I'll even let you learn the joys of what I've learned.

Firsthand LOL.

You told me a hundred times not to marry him. He was 'too perfect' and 'obviously hiding something'. Of course you were right about all except I've decided marrying him was not a mistake. Maybe not exactly what I thought but rewarding and rich with possibility for domestic happiness.

The first revelation came after months of considering the odd comments and reactions he had to anything remotely feminine. Clothes, makeup, hair, nails, scent, shoes - I thought it was just a fetish kind of thing and he did make love to me frequently and lovingly and intently. A woman can tell when a man is obsessed with her and that's what I thought he was -. Well, it was true but not exactly the way I thought.

Then I came home and found him decked out in my panties and a camisole, combing out a red wig I'd bought for Halloween - he was wearing the wig, of course and his movements and demeanor was prissy as if he were a woman.

I quickly exclaimed and got his attention. I'd never seen a human turn so red. He began babbling apologies but I fiercely and forcefully shut him up. The poor thing ruined his mascara by bursting into tears! I had to comfort him he was so distraught!

Seizing the moment I noticed his cock was as hard as a rock. He was aroused by the humiliation of discovery in his secret passion! I grabbed the pair of my pantyhose(!) he hadn't had time to put on and used them to tie his hands behind his back. He looked up with me with an odd light in his eyes and his cock rose even higher above the waistband of the pretty lacy panties. I snapped my fingers and pointed at the spot before me on the carpet.

He knelt without a word before me, the look on his face one of utter devotion.

"I wanted a husband not a slave," I said cruelly.

Long story short I elicited his full confession. He'd only done this in private absent one trip out driving in our car at night while I was gone for a few days for work. Every time he stayed by himself for work trips, for instance, any time I was away, it was his practice to 'dress up' in varying degrees, using my clothing and so forth or something he'd purchase in a convenience store or gas station! He loved the chances he'd had to dress completely and oh, Sister, the fantasies he shared. He described the romantic dates he'd had, the various men he'd been with, the ways they dominated and used his body for their pleasure! Even my sex toys had been used to enhance 'her' sexual play - he particularly enjoyed (shivering as he described it) having two imaginary men use her for their needs - one on each end!

You might be wondering how all of this deep background played into how my husband treated me. I'd found him an enthusiastic and imaginative lover if somewhat lacking in stamina. For years he'd wooed me lovingly and constantly, successfully charming me into accommodating his desires. I'd done anything he wanted and OMG he was good at pleasing me if only with his mouth. He just couldn't last too long once his lovely cock was inside me - I kept my desires to be plundered until I orgasmed to myself, contenting myself with what he could do - make me come with wonderful oral service either before or after he quickly filled me with his seed.

I think he enjoyed cleaning me after he'd come inside me for reasons you can imagine (sigh).

Just to punctuate our new relationship, I pushed myself against him and made me eat my pussy while I stood there. I stole back my 'fuck me' heels he'd positioned beside the pantyhose and put them on before - it made me exactly the right height for his service while kneeling submissively before me, the happiness almost glowing on his face.

I let him make me come and on a whim, slapped him soundly on the cheek after - not hard enough to really hurt, just a love pat... the look on his face of humiliation was oddly satisfying but passed quickly - he was hard and ready for more play.

How I became a bad ass domino is a mystery - I'd never considered or even understood the women who enjoyed humiliating their partners though I remember a time while we were in Mexico, eating in a nice restaurant on the square of a small town. The owner was a woman, dressed finely with formal makeup and intricately dressed hair - she was clearly in charge, snapping her fingers and glaring at the wait staff if they had a misstep or 'clinked' the glassware carelessly. One middle-aged waiter was particularly the focus of her attention - he almost never did anything right! Finally after a slop of water as he refilled it, she took him fiercely by the ear, like a child, and lead him to the back. We could hear her spanking his butt! It went on for several minutes and finally stopped to the sound of obvious sobbing.

Our waiter was immaculately dressed and precise in his care of us, placing everything just so and always at our table when we needed something. He smiled politely and apologized.

"The new 'boy'," he said softly. "He's failed at business and other endeavors so she's made him a waiter here. Her husband, you see -" He met our eyes and nodded ruefully but with a sly grin.

The woman running our hotel answered our inquiry with another smile.

"Dona Felipe' is a legend in our town, a forcible and intelligent businesswoman. It is a pity her family required her to marry this man but it cemented their relations in business and she complied dutifully. We think Arnaldo is, well, happy to be treated so... well, like she treats him -"

I asked her mischievously, "How does such a woman derive satisfaction in her marriage with -"

Our hostess offered a small grin. "You met the waiter who you complimented so? A handsome and accomplished gentleman, don't you think? Perhaps his employment ranges wider than that of Head of Staff..."

My husband's attentive stare at this revelation made more sense now. I'd noticed his erection as we walked to a waiting taxi after the conversation.

My spouse's training began immediately. I longed for a relaxing bubble bath with candles and chilled champagne.

"What is your name?" I asked.

"I, she is Deedee," he replied softly. Still kneeling, curiously and I realized she wanted me to tell her what to do.

That useless cock still stretching out my panties like a steel car part.

"Deedee," I said, "Prepare the bath for me - bubbles and candles and champagne. Clean it out spotlessly first - I want no sign of your use when I enter. Get busy now!"

I knew she would understand - the sneaky bitch had probably been using my bath oils and bombs and who knows what! I seethed as I thought about it. If she thought she liked humiliation and being ordered about like a slave, it was my task and my love to find out her limits. My limits.

"I don't want you to touch your cock without my permission. Nod if you understand."

She nodded.

"Get to it!"

I went to my computer and began a thorough research of all this shit. Sissies. Lifestyles. Dominance and submission. The quantity of information was ungodly. A lot of people 'enjoyed' all of this.

I looked at the small mirror on my desk in 'our' bedroom and asked myself... "What?"

I could hear Deedee scrubbing the tub and the floor, in her (my) lingerie, my nail polish on her fingers and toes.

Perhaps I could order a maid uniform in her size...