It Started Innocently Enough

[Author's Note: An innocent shoe fetish evolves into an exploration of female sexuality and D/s as the husband in a long-standing marriage gets his birthday wish, or does he? Lengthy and richly detailed, two alternative endings are offered for your enjoyment. Let me know your preference and why, and feel free to share any constructive feedback.

Disclaimer: This is a fantasy of characters over 18 years of age and I do not endorse nor encourage any of their behaviors in real life.]

It Started Innocently Enough.

It started innocently enough. I was in a thrift store and just couldn't avert my eyes from a pair of strappy gold sandals with six-inch stiletto heels. Eight weeks later, on a dark October night, I was in the hunt to get fucked, wandering in public dressed to the nines as a woman in said shoes. Under my figure-hugging little black dress was a corset whittling my waist by eight inches, and I sported an attitude that was half-sissified submissive and half-crazy fuck toy. To think I had originally gone shopping two months ago for a used pair of black boots for my wife....

I admit to a mild fetish for sexy shoes and boots, and I had seen a pair of shiny black booties in a porn site jpg that had a series of inch and a half straps encircling the leg stacked up to well over the ankle, each with its own roller buckle to make it tight. I wanted to find a pair for my wife, or something similar, because I thought they would look so hot on her; she has the finest legs and looks so fucking sexy in any kind of heel. But I don't want to pay full price for a bedroom sex prop, so I shop the thrift stores, a.k.a. "home-of-cheap-shiny-black-booties."

I walked up and down the women's size eight shoe aisle, picking up a pair or two of possible candidates but nothing was close to what I imagined. The entire time I felt slightly self-conscious, awkward shopping by myself. I tried not to make any eye contact with the other shoppers, who were exclusively of the opposite sex and shared the narrow aisle with me. Disappointed with the choices, I happened to turn around and just across the aisle were the size 12's. There on the top shelf: strappy gold sandals with six-inch stiletto heels.

I was mesmerized. They were beautiful, open toes crossed with several thin straps, on top of a one-inch platform sole leading to a slim six-inch stiletto heel. A T-strap led to a single fine ankle strap that connected to a small brace of straps that enclosed the wearer's heel. The faux leather was flashy gold lame in very good shape. And the price was a bargain at $8.99. I didn't own any kind of women's shoes myself, nor was I thinking of even looking for a pair...but I kept staring at them...thinking, "What if...?" My imagination flashed into overdrive: seeing my feet strapped into those high heels; feeling the effects on my calves; taking long sultry steps across a wooden floor. It was ME making the forceful click-clack sounds with each footfall I so often associated with sexy bitches strutting their stuff in explicit videos.

Would they even fit? I couldn't dare try them on in the store! And how would I explain them to my wife? We'd never talked about this kink before. I moved away, so as not to appear to be lingering but soon returned to the shelf. I picked them up and nervously held them in my hands. Today there was 30-percent off discount on everything in the store. If they didn't fit or it was a bust at home I'd only be out the cost of a vente Starbucks coffee. I bought them.

I wanted to try them on in the car but it was a horridly hot day, better to wait. When I got home I hid my purchase in among a few other items I bought and secreted them off into the bedroom. Later that day, while my wife was on a Zoom call downstairs, I quietly entered the bedroom and took off my shoes and socks. I removed the heels and Cinderella-like tried to slip the left shoe on an expectant foot - would it fit? Almost giddy, my toes filled the bottom of the shoe and my heel slipped in just right. My first reaction -- my ankle and arch were definitely bent at an extreme angle. I threaded the strap through the buckle and fumbled for more than five minutes before finally securing it; inexperience, an awkward angle, and nervousness repeated itself while putting on the right shoe.

The moment of truth - I stood up, my weight first on my heels, and gingerly took a small step forward. Shaking to keep my balance on a soft carpet I made several halting steps in small circles around the room over the next 10 minutes. My ankles gave way numerous times like a first-time ice skater and my arms flailed out to find a wall or furniture for balance. I only fell once.

But I felt stellar. I thought my legs looked awesome, the curve of my calves so well defined and pronounced, just like a fantasy. And the height - I did not have a partner as reference but I felt I was towering over my environs with the addition of just a half-foot. I felt Amazonian. I felt ecstatic, I felt...empowered.

That taste of empowerment was exquisite. But I craved more. What would it be like to experience the maximum empowerment feeling, the full enabling effect? To not just wear a woman's high heel shoe but to completely dress and look like a gorgeous woman? What must it be like to dress fabulously and command a room, all decked out, behaving as a woman? Again, my imagination raced ahead: how HOT would it be to fuck while sexily dressed up as a woman? As the husband in a long-term marriage, it was unlikely that I could make this last idea easily happen with another man, but I could see how it could happen with a woman: dressed up "lesbian" sex with another woman? Of course, my wife! I was hooked on this idea, actually I became obsessed with it, but how to make it happen, even if was just for a day of role-play with my wife?

This was more than a simple ask of my partner - why should she agree to it, plus what was in it for her? All relationships are imperfect and ours was no exception. We'd been married for years and I'd fulfilled the traditional "dominant male role" with a lowercase "D." Plus, our relationship had grown stale and was no longer deeply satisfying, sexually or spiritually. There needed to be some significant thought, communication, and change in our relationship if my idea was going to proceed. My thought was to put aside my fantasy for now and just work on improving things between us by modeling positive behaviors.

Some things were simple, like getting up extra early every day before her to prepare the morning coffee for us. This task usually fell to her but it felt nice taking on this responsibility and have her come down to the kitchen with the coffee already ready and waiting. I also made sure to bring in the newspaper and had it waiting for her at her usual seat at the breakfast table. Then every evening before bed I began offering her a foot massage, either while we watched TV or just after she was finishing her preparations for bed. It provided her a comforting touch and a means to physically connect; she told me it felt good.

Over time I told her I was taking on the responsibility for clearing and washing the dinner dishes, regardless of who prepared the meal. For years the majority of time responsibility for dinner fell on her even when we both worked full time. Even in retirement she had still been doing most of cooking and cleaning up - it was long past time for me to step up and do a greater share of the work.

Of more relevance I wanted to focus on factors related to intimacy, so every day I set a goal to say 10 affirming, positive and/or appreciative things about her or what our relationship meant to me. In addition I set a goal to touch, hug or kiss her in a meaningful way at least 10 times every day. It may sound corny and forced, but habit, routine and familiarity had made it easy to lose sight of what made our relationship meaningful after so many years together.

Last, we agreed to a weekly "date" where we'd pick a time during the middle of the day and a place outside the house to go for a coffee or a drink. The rules were simple: we would treat it like a date: we would set a time, we would arrive separately, and we would dress nice for each other. The purpose would be to share a conversation with each other like we might do if we were dating, sharing intimate thoughts and ideas with each other and focusing on our feelings, something we had not been routinely doing.

We were enjoying these changes and each other, and things were going well for over a month. We hoped these were permanent behaviors because they were healthy and useful to our relationship. To me the relationship changes were not a gimmick to trick her into giving me what I desired. Regardless of her reaction to my fantasy request, the changes would not cease. But I felt more comfortable now raising the conversation about my desired role-play.

One evening after dinner I broached the suggestion of my role-play idea for my birthday gift coming up in October. I laid out the specifics of what it might entail, how I had already bought a pair of high heel shoes, and how I wanted to more fully dress as a woman in full makeup with the intent of eventually having "lesbian" sex with her. I shared with her that when I tried on the heels I got super horny, had a huge hard-on, and really wanted to better experience the world of empowerment from a female perspective.

I could tell by the look on her face this was a shock. We were not a vanilla couple at all but this was a stretch. She didn't say anything for a few minutes and I was concerned that my idea was going to be a non-starter.

"So this is what all these changes in your behavior have been about, just a quid pro quo to have me go along with your latest fantasy?" she said with an edge in her voice.

I was upset but not surprised by her reactions. I held her hand and took several minutes to explain my thinking, what my true priorities were, and reiterated the intended permanence of the changes I had undertaken, regardless of whether she agreed to the role-play.

"I hear what you're saying but I'm not entirely reassured. For the time being I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt." She sat in silence for a few more minutes, then she squinted her eyes at me and said,

"If I understand correctly you want to get dressed up as a woman in full makeup with the intent of having "lesbian" sex with me to experience "empowerment"? Well, I think your fantasy has some serious misconceptions and stereotypes about what it is like to be a woman." She thought that acting out this role play wasn't a good idea because it would only reinforce his flawed ideas about sex roles and what being a woman was all about.

However, maybe if she forced him to reflect and experience his male-centric perspectives and tropes first-hand, like a teaching moment, the experience might help reset his views and expectations about true femininity, gender roles and female sexuality. Perhaps she also could have some fun in the process. She had always taken the back seat in their relationship, the number two. Maybe she could use this opportunity to educate him, AND perhaps satisfy her thoughts and need to exert a more dominant persona in their relationship at the same time. Several minutes passed as she pondered her options. Finally, she replied,

"Well, if we were to go forward with this, you had better understand I need you to be all-in on this to make it worth my while. I would expect nothing less than unwavering deference and strict conformity in execution of all my directions to you. What I say, goes. If this is to really work for you AND for me, we have to be in agreement on a few things.

With regard to your sissification, it means you submit to me and I feminize you according to MY wishes and desires; you become my sissy. You will not simply be cross-dressing in women's clothes with choices you make. You must agree to submit to me. Agree?"

"Yes," I replied.

"You meant to say, 'Yes, Mistress,' correct?"

"I'm very sorry, of course, Yes, Mistress."

"Second, I need some means to keep track of your behavior and hold you accountable to my wishes. So, you are to find an iPhone App that we will jointly use to track your obedience and monitor your performance. When you fail to hold up your end of the bargain it will specify the consequence. Agree?"

It sounded reasonable. I had heard of such things and I would need to look into them. "Yes, Mistress" I replied.

"Third. You say you want to experience what it's like to be a woman? Okay. First thing to know. Guess what? As a woman, everybody, including yourself, thinks you're too fat. Before I dress you up and fuck you, you have to lose 10 pounds. It's 8 weeks until your birthday, that's plenty of time to drop that weight through diet and exercise. You'll have weekly weigh-ins but if you miss the final weigh-in by even an ounce the whole deal is off. Agree?"

What the fuck?! This was beyond what I expected and was putting the pressure on me, but sounded non-negotiable. "Yes, Mistress" I replied.

"Fourth. Even for a simple role-play it's unreasonable to look, behave or perform like a woman without any kind of practice or preparation. Plus, as a woman, your dick and its hard-ons will be a meaningless distraction, thus enforced chastity will be commonplace to refocus your attention. To complement the chastity, you will also fulfill any training tasks or routines to prepare for the role-play if I deem them necessary. Agree?"

This was so open-ended-- I could be agreeing to almost anything, but I suspect that was part of her plan. I swallowed hard, and replied, "Yes, Mistress."

"Okay, so we are in complete agreement. We can continue to work out the fine details of the role-play. However, know from this point onward I'll be referring to you as 'Mina.'"

My first assignment was to find an App to track my performance and we settled on one called "Obedient." After installing it on both our phones she listed a series of daily, weekly and one-off habits I was responsible for accomplishing. Each task had a deadline, a means to inform her when it was accomplished, and listed a corresponding reward and punishment if the task was or was not completed according to the plan. The reward system was quite simple: one point was earned if the task was completed, a demerit if not. The points accumulated over time, and the goal for the eight weeks leading up to my birthday was a completion rate of 98 percent over all tasks and days. If that overall goal was not met the role-play was cancelled. More immediately, if a task was not completed not only was a point subtracted, there was also an immediate consequence linked to the failure.

For example, one evening I forgot to offer her a foot massage by the 11pm deadline. The consequence had her flogging my ass with a black latex flogger, with the number of strokes equal to ten. However, she chose not to administer the punishment that evening. The anticipation of when it was coming made it even worse!

At the time of her choosing, she made me strip and bend over, holding my ankles. She drew the rubber strands softly over my buttocks and said she was sorry to have to punish me. But it was my own behavior that led to this consequence, and that perhaps the experience would make me more attentive in the future. She asked me if I understood why I was being punished and I replied, "Yes, Mistress." With that she drew back the handle and flicked her wrist and the strands snapped across my bare ass with a sharp stinging crack.

"That's one, Mina, nine to go." Her arm lifted again and with an audible swoosh the stands landed on my other ass check with an equally painful force.

Shit this hurt. She took her sweet time and the third blow landed below my butt across the back of my thighs, making me rise up and let go of my ankles. "Hold still, Mina - if you let go again, I will have to start over."

This flogger was very stingy, and she laid on seven more swings, increasing in intensity each time, mostly on my ass cheeks. I thought the last two surely broke my skin but they didn't. My eyes were wet and my flesh was striped and crimson red. She said it was okay to cry; she said she would take care of me as she rubbed some kind of salve on my ass that felt cool but did not make the pain disappear.

What did I learn? I learned I did not like the flogger. I learned to maintain my focus on Foot Massages in the future. I also learned that there was a heretofore unknown part of wife that seemed to get some joy by inflicting pain on me.

The App turned into a very effective tool. The range of punishments beyond the flogger included hand spankings, using a riding crop on ass or genitals, or inserting a butt plug. The flogging was a huge deterrence and I was VERY obedient and began earning reward points when possible.

Time passed rather quickly towards our deadline and I was cognizant of the need to lose 10 pounds. How I did so was left up to me and I was prudent in selecting healthier food and much smaller portions to keep the calorie count down, hoping that I could lose a little more than a pound a week. My exercise intensity did increase and was monitored in the App - I had to log 45 minutes of exercise 5 or more days a week. The easiest way to document this was by participating in online exercise classes, and by adding in a bike ride or two.

The weekly weigh-ins did not have any specific goals or punishments. However, I was subject to being stripped naked and receiving a critique of my body and its shortcomings by my Mistress. She also forced me to recite a self-critique of things I was unhappy with my body that I would like to change. I was told this was part of the gender training experience related to the inanity of female body-shaming.

It was a month since I began the diet and at this weigh-in I was more than halfway to my weight-loss goal. She had been taking my body measurements each week but today she seemed to be especially fussy. When I asked what was up she said it was time to go shopping. She led me naked and sat me next to her at the computer as she brought up the first of several bookmarked sites.

The first was a site specializing in cross-dressing that offered a wide range of women's clothing for men. "You say you want to experience what it's like to be a woman? Okay. Second thing to know. Guess what? Men decide what defines women's fashion. Even with dropping 10 pounds you'll be far from their ideal of an hourglass shape. To have the most attractive female figure possible, according to men, a corset is the only way to go. You want to experience what it's like to be a woman? We're buying you a corset."

She had done her homework and had already narrowed down the choices, the first option an extra-strong double-boned underbust corset in supple black leather. It could whittle waists down 5-7 inches, and was 12.5 inches in length. The second option was a black satin steel-boned underbust corset that had an extra-long torso of 14 inches that could take off 4-6 inches from the waist and included six garters. The final option was a red satin overbust, double-boned corset 13 inches in length. After showing me the options I was told to turn away while she placed the order. The final selection would come as a surprise to me. From the same website she ordered a pair of sexy black lace top fishnet stockings with back seams, a black garter belt, and a black lace underwire bra, all sized to measurements she had just taken.

"For the next four weeks you will be corset training for the maximum compression possible."

I had no idea what corset training was, but would soon find out as express delivery meant it would be here the next day.

With a few keystrokes we were now looking at a web site filled with alluring dresses suitable for evening dates or clubbing, all in plus-sizes. She scrolled to a series of revealing mini dresses that barely covered the models' asses. The beautiful form-fitting choices she highlighted included a glittery shirred black lycra dress, with cap sleeves and a scooped neckline; a slick black PVC number with a tear-drop neckline and mandarin collar, with ties that laced up the thighs; and a long-sleeved red satin dress with an open back. All the choices would tightly hug every curve and bulge, and show off my ass and curvy legs created by my high heels.