Making the Perfect Husband - Step 09

Step 9 -- Fashion Show

I decided we should celebrate as we drove home from the lawyer's office, it had taken over two months, but everything was finally and completely in my name. I had found a recommendation for her online on a kinky bulletin board, and I am pretty sure she knew what the score was. I think that is why she pressed Toy as hard as she did, making sure he really wanted this, and I think that is also why she suggested, right at the end of the meeting, that we might want to investigate having me have power of attorney over my husband.

She also mentioned we might want some sort of estate arrangement, just in case something happened to me, so I would be sure my husband was taken care of. Neither of those options had ever occurred to me. I promised her we would consider it and thanked her for all her help.

Earlier that evening I had Toy make a reservation at a nice upscale Italian restaurant, and we stopped there on our way home. When the waiter arrived, I told her that my husband had an upset stomach and so for now he only wanted water, but he would love a takeout order of lasagna in the hopes he would be feeling better later in the evening.

I knew Toy was ravenous as I had insisted that we leave for shopping and then the lawyer's office before he had a chance to eat more than a bite or two of the lovely lunch, he had made me. Naturally he was not allowed to snack, he was too busy carrying my bags and boxes as we went from store to store. The lingerie stores were especially mortifying for him, not only because he was forced to wait for long stretches of time in such a feminine place, but I also whispered to him that many of the things I was buying were for him to wear.

As I ate my delicious eggplant parmigiana, I kept up a steady stream of conversation with my famished Toy. After a while I felt sorry for him and gave him a few bites from my plate to keep him going. I found cutting a small piece of food and feeding it to him incredibly sexual, especially the look of devotion and helplessness on his face. With every single bite I gave him he whispered, "thank you Mistress Jessica."

When we got home, I had Toy unload all the packages, taking them up to my room. In the past two months we had moved -- OK it was Toy that did all the work -- all of Toy's things, especially the mundane and masculine things, into the guest room. That was now Toy's room, with a cute little pink sign over the door and everything.

The décor of his room was ten-year-old girl, from the unicorn lamp to the rainbow and boyband posters. And the closets were full of his clothing, masculine yes, but much nicer than when he was allowed to choose what he wore. All his feminine items, mostly panties at that point, were in my bedroom. And that is where I had him take our days purchases.

While he was doing that, I prepared in the living room. When he came down, he found me in my chair, the TV on to a streaming service, and his lasagna on a plate between my feet. "Toy, my feet are killing me from the long day of walking, rub them while you eat, please?"

I almost never asked him to do anything anymore, it was all simple commands. By asking him it seemed to throw him off. He was being asked to do this utterly humiliating thing, but he was being asked and not told. One thing experience has taught me is to change things up a bit. If everything was an order, then being ordered might lose its potency. But being asked, and with a please no less?

Without hesitation he came forward and dropped to the ground. First, he worshipped my feet, taking off the shoes, kissing my feet properly, and beginning the massage all before trying to eat off the plate I had set on the floor.

Every week I escalated the humiliations and every week he seemed to break a little more, his ego disappearing into his need to serve me. I believe the constant arousal I kept him in helped with that. He now regularly went two and even three weeks in between orgasms, and I hated to let him have them that often, because he was always much more responsive the longer it had been.

I had read that there was a point of diminishing returns, keep a man too long and his drive would begin to diminish. Once we were more settled in, I planned on experimenting with different intervals until I found the best cycle for keeping my Toy as compliant as possible. My goal was to stretch out the time, but not if that harmed his performance as my Toy.

After my show was over, I had Toy clean up the mess he had made on the floor, he was going to need to be spanked tonight for spilling red sauce on the living room floor. But first things first.

"Toy darling, other than a little bit of a mess you just made, you have been very good today. I want to celebrate all the legal signings of the day with a fashion show. I can model the things I bought for me, and you will model the things I bought for you. Go upstairs to your place, I will be along in a minute."

Taking my time, I stretched and made my way up to my room. Entering I felt that same warmth in the midsection that I got so often, there Toy was patiently knelling in his place at the foot of my bed, naked except for his collar and cage.

Most nights I let him sleep in my bed, cuddled up to me, but occasionally when I was not feeling well or overtired, I banished him to his room. Once I heard him softly whimpering in there. The following Sunday debriefing I asked him about it, and looking embarrassed and apologizing several times, he said that he could hardly stand to sleep apart from me. Sometimes being alone and apart was too much for him.

It seemed he was addicted to me, couldn't be apart from me if he could help it. I would take credit for doing it, but it was an accident, unintentional. And while it was happening, I also was becoming addicted to him in much the same way. Many nights I knew I should send him away, make sure he knew that I was strong and could be without him, diminish his ego that little bit more in order to make him mine, but I couldn't send him away. I needed him, his presence in my life too much to be without him long.

I stood for a second admiring my lovely and precious Toy before going over to the packages on the bed that were waiting for our show. I opened them, slowly sorting them into two piles. I knew his measurements perfectly at this point and so I was sure everything I bought for him would fit.

Toy had long since learned that while he was kneeling, he was not to speak unless spoken to, so I sorted in peace, carefully planning the sequence of outfits. First, I decided to give him a show. I started to undress and the whole process felt awkward. I had only been training toy as a full-time body servant, dressing, undressing, and helping me with my makeup and nails for a little over a month, and already it felt unnatural to dress myself. I nearly summoned him to finish helping me, but that would have spoiled the surprise, and a little adversity never hurt anyone, me included.

I assembled the full outfit. I hadn't ever tried out the full dominatrix look for Toy. I wasn't positive he would like it, but I had lived as his mistress for long enough now that I wanted, even if only for a night of dress up, to look the part.

I stepped around the bed and into his view, he knew looking anywhere but straight ahead was as punishable as speaking, so I was sure he had not peeked. I stood in front of him, dressed in a short and tight leather skirt, white silk top, thigh high black leather boots. At my wrists I had thin leather bracelets with 2" sharp metal spikes all the way around (easily the most impractical part of the outfit, by the way), black leather gloves, a gold choke chain around my neck, and in my hand, I was holding a riding crop.

When Toy saw me, dressed that way, he gasped and turned pale. I could see his penis twitch like crazy in the cage, squirming and stretching, hopelessly trying to expand. I stood there and let him appreciate the sight. "Are you ready to give me a show?"

He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it, simply nodding. I pointed at the bed with my crop, a not very subtle hint what would happen if he balked, and said I laid out your new clothes. "There is a nightdress that you will wear to bed every evening, a new silk bed robe to replace that nasty old terry cloth thing, some lingerie and even a nice sun dress. But first you should put the girdle on, we will use it to tuck your male parts up out the way for the fashion show.

"I want you to take your time, enjoy yourself, show off a little bit. I am going to be filming it, so we can watch it together later."

For the first time he noticed the video camera sitting innocently on my dresser. I walked over, turned it on, and settled into my chair for the show.

Watching Toy, I could see the conflict on his face. He kept switching from one expression to the next, before the first expression had even had a chance to set. His brain was a freeway and right now his thoughts were a multiple car crash, with debris scattered everywhere.

I swished my new crop, smacked it into my left-hand glove, and gave him a pointed look. Like magic his thoughts cleared, and he hopped up and made his way to my bed.

"Would you like some help with that girdle?"

The video was not great cinema. Toy was a complete mess for most of it, and despite having helped me into and out of similar garments for weeks now, somehow that didn't translate very well into putting them on his body. Partway through he even began crying a bit. He didn't say anything, but there was a steady but slow stream of tears from his eyes.

It was the perfect end to a near perfect day. It felt like a breakthrough, and it was. The combination of events that day seemed to sweep away the last of his male ego. It was clear as day in our following briefings and in other conversations. He knew I loved him, he knew it more than ever before, but he also knew with rock solid certainty that he was my inferior. He understood that serving me was the pinnacle of his existence, that making me happy, raising me up also made him happy and raised him up, because he was part of me.

Not Jack's Journal

We have reached the point where I accidentally discovered Jack's Journal and read much of it. Weirdly I felt guilty after reading it. It never occurred to me I might, and at first I didn't believe my own feelings, but no, I felt guilty. So, I sat him down -- actually sitting, next to me at the kitchen table, he wasn't tied down or anything -- and I confessed to him. The lunch he was preparing, sitting in preassembled form on the countertop.

I got a little carried away. It started with the journal, but then I admitted to the snooping I had done on his computer and the app I put on his phone. Eventually I ran down and stopped talking. He had not said a word. He sat and processed it for a good five minutes, and then, still silent, he stood up and began walking. He stopped in the doorway and just looked at me.

I followed him, as he walked upstairs and into my bedroom. Hesitating, he steeled himself and sat down on my chair. The chair he had not sat in in months. The chair I had spanked him over my knees so often. He looked at me.

His meaning was plain as day, but he wasn't going to demand, state, or even suggest what he thought should happen. I stood there, my mind racing. Should I let him spank me? In the moment, I didn't stop to analyze the costs and benefits. I knew what was right and I wanted him to forgive me. I dropped and then stepped out of my pants, walked over to get my hairbrush, and then handed it to him as I settled across his lap.

He tapped me once, gently, with the hairbrush and then set it down on the nearby dresser. Then he began spanking me. My husband is a gentle man and I forget how much stronger than me he really is, especially since I have taken control of our marriage. Within seconds waves of pain were spreading out from my rear end.

And then he began to speed up and strike harder. The pain swallowed me up, it became my world. And then, I don't know how to describe it, but I began to sink into it. It still hurt, but not how it had before. It was an ocean I was swimming in, almost warm and pleasant. I was still crying and sobbing though, I didn't have any other way to process the thought, emotions, and sensations.

As all things do, it ended. He started gently rubbing my sore and most certainly bright red bottom, and as my sniffles trailed off, I stood up again. Standing there I started saying something, an apology I think, and he put a single finger on my lips and then stood up, returning in a moment with supplies. He cleaned off my face with a damp and warm washcloth and applied some lotion to my bottom. Then he gently kissed me on the lips before kneeling before me and thoroughly kissing my feet.

Then he stood up and walked out of the room. I heard him going down to the kitchen and the sounds of him resuming his lunch preparations. The whole time he had never said a word. I stood there, butt throbbing, but feeling better than I had in a while. It felt good to have been honest with him and to know that he had forgiven me, and it was behind us now. That's why you won't be getting any more excerpts, you know as much about what he has written as I do (OK, that is not strictly true, but you know what I mean).

Later we discussed his laptop and phone. I offered to remove the applications, to no longer spy via phone or computer, but he really didn't seem to care about the computer, and he was actively against removing the phone app I used to track and monitor him.

"But Mistress Jessica, you should know where I am and I don't have any secrets from you. What if you need me for something? I would love to be able to know your location also, it would be easier to serve you if I was sure when you were almost home, knew where to meet you, but I understand if you don't want that."

I gave him access to my phone's location, an easy process. It wasn't the total visibility and potential control I had over his computer and phone, but the ability to know where I am seemed to be something he really wanted. I could see how knowing would let him serve me better, and that was reason enough for me.

Regarding his electronic devices, I hadn't spent much time spying on him these last few months. As my confidence in my growing control over him increased I didn't see the need and honestly, I have better things to do with my time. I still check periodically, once a month or so, but he knows that I am and wants me to have that control over him, and that makes it better

I have no idea if he realized that I essentially cheated regarding our bet so long ago. I like to think I would have managed to end up here anyway, but that sort of 'what if' isn't all that interesting to me. I have him, he is mine, I love him, and he loves me, and the reality of that is what matters to me.