Making the Perfect Husband - Step 08

Step 8 -- The WLM Begins

I had prepared a long time for this, but there was still so much to do. It ended up taking months to get our finances situated, the house and everything else fully in my name. The lawyer I got was a bit hesitant, but my Toy was insistent and convinced her that it was for the best. He said something about family history and health issues and the two of them exchanged knowing looks. Honestly, I was a bit confused, but whatever works.

Finding a new routine was much faster. I continued with cage inspections and using plenty of my scented lotion. I also upgraded his daily ablutions to include using the lotion on his hands and feet. He commented on the scent, but I ignored his comment as irrelevant. I also scheduled him for his first mani-pedi that first week, over his Thursday lunch hour.

On Tuesday, when I first brought it up, he was very reticent, and again I ignored him. I scheduled maintenance spankings for Wednesday night, and I hoped that his experience Wednesday would make him amenable on Thursday.

As he settled into my lap, I once again explained to him that he had not done anything wrong, I just wanted to make sure he understood who was in charge, now and going forward. It wasn't the hardest spanking I had given him, but it was the longest, and his reaction to it was different than it had been to being spanked before.

At the start I could feel his tension. After a few minutes though I could feel the rhythm of pain sink into him. He wasn't thinking any more, just feeling.

When it was all done, he apologized for making me do this and thanked me. I hadn't thought about it that way, but I was training him to be the best version of himself and so I accepted his apology and thanks and set him to work eating me out. Spanking him never failed to turn me on, and feeling the afterglow post Wednesday spanking quickly became a weekly highlight for both of us.

Thursday morning as my Toy was getting ready for work, I told him I would be meeting him at the salon, and we could grab something quick to eat afterwards. He looked surprised for a moment, but then realized I was getting my hands and feet done as well.

"Sharon, this is my husband. This is his first time. He's a little nervous. He doesn't realize how many men get their hands and feet done."

"Don't worry hon. I will take care of you myself and Chris will take care of your wife. Just relax, you will enjoy it, promise. Just look over there, that's Pete, he's a regular."

I saw him squirming in his seat a bit, but I think that was the spanking the night before and his sore ass, more than any nervousness. At that moment I realized I should have made Toy wear his butt plug. An opportunity lost, but there would be more chances.

Now that I had control of him, I had to make sure my control was solidified. More than anything else I needed to break him down. I needed him to be compliant, accepting his position beneath me. I knew the threat of divorce would not keep him in line forever, I needed more than fear. Fear brought him that final step into an FLR, but I didn't think it would keep him there.

Controlling his money and social interactions would help, but I needed to chip away at his ego. I didn't want to destroy him or anything, but he needed to accept with all his heart that he was less than me, that I was his superior and that following my lead in everything was natural and right.

To keep him compliant in the moment I decided that fewer orgasms for him would help. The more I could keep him in a constant state of arousal, the more he would submit to me, to get what he wanted. The regular spankings and restrictions like his allowance -- calculated to be not quite enough money to make it through a typical week, making it necessary to skip a lunch or two or to beg me for money towards the end of the week -- helped chip away at his male ego.

However, being cautious, I also decided to exploit his insecurities about masculinity. I knew that wearing panties every day still bothered him, and it didn't help that I was slowly but surely cycling out the somewhat plain panties I had originally bought for him -- when there was some doubt about his willingness to follow my directions and wear them -- and now he had a fine selection of bright and lovely silk panties.

The scented lotion every day and the soon to be regular mani-pedi routine were also steps towards making my Toy a bit more feminine. After the mani-pedi, at lunch, I asked him how he felt about the experience. He started equivocating, but one stern look and he knew the truth was his safest option.

"I didn't like it. Sitting there, the scents, all the women, some of them looking at me. The people in the mall walking by looking at me. It was embarrassing."

"No one was looking at you. Pete and plenty of other guys have the same thing done every day of the week. Besides," I said grabbing his chin and turning it so he was looking directly into my eyes, "it is not about what you like. I like you having nice pretty hands and feet, so that is what is going to happen. Understand?"

Swallowing hard, as if he was finally realizing what he had begged for, "Yes ma'am. Thank you."

"Good. I think I am going to want to see what my Toy looks like with his pretty feet when the nails are polished. I think I would like that very much."

That evening we had a minor household emergency, a broken dishwasher which leaked water everywhere, so I didn't have the energy to see to my Toy's toenails. I did get to see him mopping, cleaning, and doing the dishes though, so that was nice. We ended up going out and purchasing a new dishwasher though, I felt certain I could find better tasks to keep my slave busy than that, and if I couldn't, well I could have him wash the dishes by hand if I wanted, working dishwasher or not.

That Friday was the first time, other than a few instances, where we did not have our collaring ceremony. He was already collared; he had worn the metal necklace since we had signed our agreement. I wanted to hear him say "I, Mistress Jessica's Toy, swear to obey and serve her to the best of my ability for as long as I wear this collar", but I wasn't sure when it would feel right. I decided to make it Toy's problem.

"Toy, I miss you swearing to serve and obey me as we put your collar on. What do you think we should do about that?"

He thought for a second, "how about when I serve you breakfast in the morning I kneel down and swear to serve and obey you, just like I did when you put the collar on me Friday evenings?"

I haven't mentioned it before, but Toy oversaw serving me all my meals. He was to fix my breakfast and serve it to me stark naked (except for his cage and collar) every morning. Requesting bacon is a favorite of mine because he is always so nervous about the splattering grease.

I considered making him eat his meals from a doggie dish, but that seemed too much too soon, so I allowed him to join me at the table once I had been served. When we ate out, I always ordered for him, and he was never allowed to start eating until I signaled it was OK with a little nod.

That first Saturday we ate out at a nice steak restaurant, and he absentmindedly gnawed on a piece of bread from the basket they brought out before I gave him the signal. The mortified look when he realized what he had done was lovely and it gave me a chance to try out my recent purchases that had arrived just that morning.

Earlier that day I had set him to assemble what had arrived in the large heavy box. I enjoyed having him across my lap as I was spanking him, but it really was kind of awkward. He is a large man, larger than I at any rate, and didn't fit over my knees terribly well. He always ended up sprawled out holding himself up with his hands. So, I had ordered a bondage horse, a clever one that folded up into something that looked like the sort of ottoman or something similar that one might put in their bedroom.

He knew what was waiting for him when we got home. I was looking forward to it, and some of that energy rubbed off on him, I think. When we walked into the house from the garage he dropped down on his knees and looked at me. I reached down and patted his head, "go upstairs, strip, and get into position. Let's get this over with."

I loved my new bondage horse and the leather strap I bought at the same time. Locking him into position was easy as pie and the access and ease of punishment was simply delightful. When he first settled into the horse, he was tense, but after a few minutes he began to relax into the punishment. I hadn't realized how limiting having him just over my knees and using a hairbrush had been. Another benefit is that he looked very photogenic, all locked in and helpless looking.

Throughout the process I took the occasional picture with my phone, keepsakes and maybe even a photo journal to mark our progress together. Early on he had asked about it and I replied honestly that I loved him and that he turned me on, that I didn't need porn when I had pictures of him. Since we had formalized our relationship with me in charge, I had begun taking many more pictures though, and occasionally he would give me a bit of a worried glance when I was taking the pictures. That encouraged me to take more.

Releasing him from the horse he apologized, thanked me, and dropped to his knees, knowing I would want his attention right then. As I said, delightful.

After I was finished, I had him clean us both up and then I had him sit in the bathroom. "I didn't forget about wanting to see your petty feet with the nails all nice and polished. Not the boring clear polish, but a pretty color." Pulling down several different colors from my makeup cabinet I looked at him and "which color do you want?"

There he was, sitting on what I am sure was a very sore butt and he clearly was being ordered to pick out a shade for something he absolutely did not want to have happen. But between his already sore rear end and my demeanor he knew he was stuck.

Eyeing the collection of bottles like they were venomous snakes, he pointed at a delicate coral pink polish, easily the most subtle shade in the batch. If I had thought about it, I never would have pulled down that particular shade, but one has to live with one's mistakes.

I talked him through the process of painting his own nails. Once or twice, I considered just showing him how to do it, but I realized that might compromise my authority. Halfway through the process, as he was starting to get the hang of it, I realized I would never again have to put on my own nail polish.

"Toy, learn well. From now on you will be doing the nails on my hands and feet. You are going to practice applying and removing the polish on you, so that when it comes time to do mine you will be perfect at it. How does that sound?"

His "Thank you Mistress Jessica" was not as enthusiastic as I would like, but there was no sign of rebellion.

It had been a long and busy first week of being under my authority. I decided to not let him come that first week. I knew he expected it, but I wanted him a bit on edge and extra aroused. When we talked through our Sunday debriefing, we had so much to talk about.

Just after securing the cuffs, I let him know that if he was good tonight and tomorrow, I would let him cum for me Monday night. That was after all why we had entered this arrangement, so we were not restricted to just weekend fun. It was fun seeing his arousal spike even as much of his tension drain away.

His first question though caught me completely off guard. "Mistress Jessica, the bondage horse was a bit wobbly, would it be OK for me to take it apart and reassemble it tomorrow night?"

I couldn't help it, I burst out laughing. After everything that had happened this week, that is what he had questions about?

"Yes," I said still grinning, "Toy, it has been the best week of my life. I love you so much. Everything you do for me means more to me than you can ever know."

The look on his face was one of wonder and amazement, as if he hadn't realized how much I loved what he was, what he was becoming. I realized then I had been far too lax in telling him I loved him. From that day forward, every single day, I tell him how much I love him at least once a day. Sometimes it is through a phone call, email, or text, on the rare times we are apart. But I make a special point of it because it is true, and I always want him to know it.

After that epiphany the rest of the (very long) debriefing went well. We talked at length about the maintenance spanking. He admitted that one of the hardest parts of our arrangement was remembering all the rules I was putting in place.

One such rule was the old-fashioned habit of standing when a lady enters a room or approaches a table one is at. Not for all ladies of course, but I was very firm that he should stand when I approached. He wasn't against those rules, but like accidentally and absently eating a piece of bread, he realized he had years of training to overcome. I promised I would be patient with him, continuing to punish and then forgive, until he learned the rules.

I was sure my assault on his male ego was working though, because of all the things we talked about he never once mentioned the mani-pedi or doing his own toenails. He did mention my nails though, a bit nervously, but again I promised patience on my part, while he learned how to do his new duties.

Jack's Journal -- Excerpt Eight

I am not very handy, and I never have been. Both my dad and my brother are great at that sort of thing, but sadly I am not. I used to be self-conscious about it, and so I thought about it plenty. Eventually I concluded that my spatial reasoning and visualization was just not very good. When something was finished, I could look at it and understand, but then when it was apart, I couldn't visualize how it should fit back together. It was frustrating.

That is a long excuse for my trouble with that damn bondage horse. Mistress Jessica gave me the box of parts, I had the instructions, and I owned the necessary tools. It took me hours to put it together. Well, it took me hours for me to do it wrong four or five times (I lost track). Eventually I got it done.

I was certain that Mistress Jessica would want an excuse to use the horse at the earliest opportunity, and I was also excited by it -- the shape, the smell of the leather, all the straps. Come to think of it, all that might have contributed to my assembly challenges.

That evening at dinner I absent-mindedly grabbed and bit into a dinner roll. Mistress Jessica had not yet given me permission to eat, and here I was inconsiderately munching away. It was an embarrassing misstep, and I knew it even before I saw her eyes tighten in that familiar look of annoyance. I knew I would be giving the horse a test ride very soon.

Later that evening as I was awkwardly settling into the horse, it occurred to me that I should have at least tried to sit in it after I had put it together. A vision of the whole thing collapsing under me filled my head. It didn't help that I felt something inside make a "click" or "snap" sound and the whole thing shifted under me as my full weight hit it and Mistress Jessica tightened the straps.

She started smacking my behind and for the first few minutes I just huddled on top of it, strapped in and certain it would fall apart. Eventually the rhythm and pain took hold, and I was able to relax and accept my deserved punishment.

She laughed out loud when I asked her if I could have some time to rebuild it, and then the most wonderful smile filled her face, and she told me how much she loved me. In that moment she was the only thing in the world that existed for me.

That week Mistress Jessica also started training me to take care of her fingernails and toenails. The first few times of practicing on my toenails didn't go any better than my battle with the bondage horse had. Eventually I conquered both the horse assembly and how to apply nail polish -- the tribulations of the modern slave, I guess.