Seven Years as a Wife

The advert looked too good to be true. A room in a mansion, free rent in exchange for housework. Mark was between jobs and was living in a rundown bedsit. He had been mugged twice and had ran out of money.

For the last few days he had been reduced to stealing packets of sauce from burger stands and mixing them into hot water for soup. He replied online to the advert and sat hungry and bored in his bedsit.

Why hadn't he gone to Canada with the rest of his family. They all had a new life there. He had insisted on staying at university to finish his philosophy degree. In truth, he like many of the students, were there for the lifestyle. Parties, casual sex and getting up at 11 in the morning.

He missed so many lectures he had failed to get his degree. He enjoyed the parties though. They were the only chance he had to get any action with the female students. Sober they never really considered him. Standing 5ft 5 inches, he was hardly what they looked for.

He had been befriended by Kim. She invited him on shopping trips and to have coffee with hm. He later found out she was a "fag hag". She liked the company of gay men. When he insisted he was straight, she didn't believe him. She said she could tell, and said he should, perhaps, try it.

Later when his family had emigrated, they had left him with £10,000 to help him through his last year. He thought it would be easy. Get his degree and get some high paying office job. He didn't even know what he wanted to do.

He had burned through his student loan and the £10k in less than 6 months. After crying to Kim about it she managed to get him a job with her. She worked as a cleaner and carer. He went with her at weekends to people's houses. He learned to make beds, clean house, wash and even basic cooking. With this and an evening job washing up in a restaurant, he managed to get by.

They taught him a lot those last few months. He learned he didn't like to work. He learned he was basically lazy. All he wanted was to have fun. He moved to the bedsit in Tottenham thinking he would find a job in London easier than anywhere else. He was wrong.

Now he was living on the breadline, in a place where he feared he would be killed for the tiny amount of dole money he got every month. This place in the advert would mean safety. It was on the edge of Potters Bar in Hertfordshire. It was an area where millionaires lived.

He waited until his dole money was in his account and made the trip for the interview. It was an interview, even though he wasn't being paid, it was employment of a kind. When he arrived he was greeted by Alan the owner. He was a tall well-built man. He had black hair which was greying at the temples, Mark would have guessed his age to be mid-forties. He was what Kim would have called a DILF, although Mark didn't know if he was a father.

"Oh, hi, you must be Mark? I'm Simon."

"Yes sorry, am I early?"

"A little, but don't worry. I'm just finishing up with another applicant."

Mark sat in the living room. It was huge. The house must be worth ten million. The back garden went on forever. He could see a tennis court and a swimming pool. He had to get this job.

The door to the study opened. Out stepped a leggy blond in a mini skirt. She was stunning. Mark's heart sank. He didn't have a chance. What man wouldn't give her a job?

"Thank you Cheryl, I'll let you know tomorrow."

"In you come please Mark. Please sit. Now tell me about yourself."

Mark sat looking dejected and told Simon about his life. After a few minutes he finished.

"So you can cook, clean and wash, yes?"

"Well yes, my cooking skills are basic, but I'm sure I could learn to improve."

His heart leapt. Why would he still be asking questions if he didn't still have a chance?

"All of your family are in Canada now, you have no one here?"

"Yes, a few distant cousins I only see at funerals and weddings, but that's it."

"I have sympathy for you Mark. I know what it's like to be alone in the world. You have the job. When can you move in?"

Mark wanted to hug him and leap up and down.

"Any time you want. I have very few possessions. Just an old laptop and some clothes."

Simon picked up the phone.

"Peter, can you come over now. I need you to take my new housekeeper back to Tottenham to pick up his stuff, then return him here. No I don't want to risk that in Tottenham, no take the Range Rover."

"My driver will take you to pick up your belongings, then you can move in. OK?"

This was all happening so fast. He would be glad to see the back of that hell hole.

Back at the bedsit all his possessions fitted into one suitcase. He dropped the keys into the agency on the way back to Potters Bar. Getting out at the mansion he paused to take in the view. It was a mock Tudor monster. It must have over ten rooms. It was his to keep clean, but also his to live in. He had hit the jackpot.

Inside he was shown to a guest room overlooking the back garden. He looked out and saw a man cutting the grass.

"That's Burt. He worked in one of my factories. He loves gardening, but lives in a flat now. So I pay him to look after mine. You probably won't meet him. Everything he needs is outside. Before you ask, you are free to use the pool when you have done all your housework, but not before."

The last part sounded vaguely menacing.

Simon went towards Mark. Mark was expecting a handshake, instead Simon went for a hug. He felt so small and weak in Simon's arms. His head was forced against Simon's chest. He breathed his aftershave. Paco Rabanne 1 Million. Mark had seen it in the shops, it was over £125 per bottle.

"Welcome to my home Mark. I hope you are going to be happy here. If you don't mind going down and cooking us both some dinner, we can talk about your duties."

Mark was a little weirded out by the hug. He finished unpacking and went to the kitchen and checked what was there. He was blown away. The fridge and freezer were fully stocked with the most expensive ingredients he had ever seen. He decided to make chili.

While they sat eating later, Simon explained his partner for the last five years had moved out earlier that week. He put the add online the week before. It had been an amicable split. Since she was gone he needed someone to cover the housework and generally run the home.

Mark was expected to make breakfast in the morning and tidy the house. He would do the laundry and have dinner ready when Simon came home. Any spare time was his to use as he wanted. Swimming, tennis or the media room. Mark was even told he could order all the food online. Whatever he didn't spend from his allowance was his to keep.

Mark knew with careful shopping and menu planning he could save possibly £1000 plus per month. The cupboards and fridge were overstocked. He was happier than he had been for years.

The next day after breakfast Simon left and Mark had finished washing up. He decided to explore. Upstairs there were five rooms. The massive master bedroom and four smaller ones. All were tidy except his and the master bedroom which Simon slept in.

Most of the spare rooms were empty. There was one that had a drawers and wardrobes full of women's clothes. The drawers were full of designer lingerie. The cupboards had Gucci bags, Stella McCartney dresses as well as a mass of expensive shoes and boots.

Mark guessed that this had been his partners room. Why would she leave all this?

He made the beds and decided to wash Simon's sheets. One everything was in the machine he explored the ground floor. In the study he tidied Simon's desk. While putting a pen in a drawer he found several rolled up wads of notes.

He couldn't resist it. He had always been poor. Seeing this much money was like a drug to him. He counted it out. There were just over 200 £50 notes, £100,000!

Mark felt his heart beating. He could grab the money and run. He could live off this for five years if he was careful. He had never really stolen anything before, but it was just sitting there. He didn't think about the fact the police would be looking for him. He went upstairs, grabbed a bag and stuffed the money in it and headed for the electric gate on the front of the property.

He punched in the code and nothing happened. He looked about frantically to see if there was a way over the wall. Nothing. He ran back to the house to see if he could get out over the garden wall.

As he got the hallway, he saw Simon.

"Oh Mark, you disappoint me. Come with me."

Mark considered running. He knew even though Simon was over twice his age, he would not be able to overpower him. So he followed him to the media room.

Simon used the keyboard to display CCTV footage of Mark stealing the money on the 98-inch TV. Mark was caught. He could go to prison for up to seven years.

"I'm calling the police. Just wait here. If you try to run, I will hurt you. I have black belts in several martial arts."

Simon tapped his phone.

Mark was panicking now. He started to hyperventilate.

"No Please Simon don't, just let me go. You have your money. Please I'll do anything!"

Simon stopped dialing.

"Anything?"

"Yes, I just couldn't survive in prison."

"The maximum sentence for theft in this country is seven years. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, yes I do."

"I want you to be my wife for seven years. Dress and live as a woman, you will have to be my wife."

"What? Your.. your wife. Are you nuts? How?"

"Look at this."

On the screen, an image of an effeminate looking man appeared. It morphed into a beautiful looking blond. You could see it was the same person.

"That was Roger before and after he became Stacy. That was five years ago. I know you have seen her old room."

Mark felt a chill go through him.

"What did you do to her Simon? Where is she?"

"What? You don't think I'm a murderer? No, she left last week. She's going back to living as a man. Her choice. She was with me for five good years. I agreed after that, if she wanted, she could go. I paid her a million as a thank you. I'm not a murderer Mark, I'm gay."

"Well I'm not."

"Nor was Roger. I think he was bi when he left though."

"Why can't you find a guy then. Why do they need to dress as a woman?"

"I work in engineering. It's still a macho environment, hardly any women are engineers. If you look at the richest people, there are hardly any gay billionaires. I need companionship, sex, even love. However, everyone thinks I'm straight. They have to keep thinking that."

"Listen, if it's a choice of spending seven years in prison or getting my bits chopped off, prison wins."

"Who said anything about chopping off anything? I'm gay if you had anything missing, I wouldn't be into it. I quite fancy you as you are. No only a few minor surgeries. Some small work on your face, breast and perhaps hip implants. All removable and reversible. "

"But I'm not gay. I could never sleep with a man."

"How do you know? Have you ever tried it? Listen, seven years in a life of luxury as a woman. Doing everything a wife would do for her husband, or seven years in prison. You would have a criminal record and probably never get a job. Oh, and after seven years, if you want to leave, I'll give you two million."

Mark choked.

"Two million! Two million pounds!"

"Yes. I'm not a billionaire yet, but close. Two million won't make a dent in my fortune, but I suspect it would mean the world to you. Go and change into some of Stacy's old clothes. They should fit, you're about the same size. It's one of the reasons I chose you."

Mark was annoyed.

"You set me up. It was your plan?"

"Well yes, but you were trapped by your own greed remember. What's it going to be?"

"I'll try, but if I hate it, I want to negotiate."

"Well, we'll see. Meet me in our bedroom when you're ready. Wear something sexy."

As Mark climbed the stairs, he couldn't believe he was actually going to do this. Then he thought. Women go with men all the time for money or power. He would be doing something similar. If he could see it out, he would have two million at thirty years old. He would be set for life.

He opened the door to Stacy's room and headed for the shower. He found some depilatory cream in the bathroom and covered his body and waited for five minutes for it to work. He showered it off and washed hid hair and body if the floral shower gel.

He sat at the vanity and attempted makeup. He had helped Kim sometimes; she had liked to show him how she did her makeup. This was before he told her he was straight. He made a passable woman. His hair was shoulder length, with it parted at the side he looked more feminine.

He found what he wanted to wear. As he drew the black holdup's on, he shivered. He had never experienced sensual feelings like this. The black silk teddy felt amazing on his body. The silk made his nipples erect almost immediately. Next came the Janet Rager pleated French knickers. They seemed to caress his bottom as he moved. His cock grew ridged. Every step he took was a sensory overload.

He found a pair of sexy looking 2-inch heel sandals in the wardrobe. He carefully walked about the room to get used to them. He felt so sexy. He was getting turned on by his image in the mirror.

He put on a white silk robe and knocked on the door of Simon's room.

"Come in Melanie."

He opened the doors and saw Simon naked on the bed, except for a pair of grey silk boxers.

"Melanie?"

"Yes, that's what I'm going to call you. You'll be my wife, and your name is Melanie. When we polish you up a little you will attend events with me. You will go to the finest restaurants and shows. Holiday on my yacht and fly on my private jet."

These were things Mark hadn't considered. A millionaire's lifestyle, but as a woman. Would it be that bad?

He sat on the bed. Simon sat up and wrapped his well-muscled arms around him. He kissed his neck. Mark couldn't help sighing as he tilted his head. Why did he feel so feminine? Why was this turning him on? Was he gay? Was it just he was doing this for the pot of gold at the end?

Simon's hands slipped the robe from his shoulders. His hands found Mark's nipples. He gently tweaked and tugged them.

"Ohhhh, that feels nice."

"Don't worry Mel. I'll be very gentle. We won't go too far tonight."

His right hand slipped down to Mark's knickers. Mark groaned as Simon held his cock through the silk. Slowly he started to rub him through the soft silk. It grew to its full four inches. Mark was breathing hard. The left hand tweaking his nipple. The silky clothes, touching him all over. He rubbed his nylon covered legs together. That sent him over the edge. His legs straightened out, his toes pointed and he came. He felt himself pumping into his knickers. He almost passed out. Never felt that sensual before.

Simon handed him a tissue.

"There you are. Clean up, it's my turn now. "

Marked wiped up his mess and turned to see Simon naked. His 8-inch rod standing straight up.

"Just touch it Mel. Stroke it then use your mouth."

With a little fear, and perhaps revulsion. He wrapped his fist around it. It wasn't as bad as he feared. He could do this. He used one hand to stroke and the other to play with the large straining helmet.

"That feels good Mel. Now use your mouth."

Mark got between his knees and stared down at his first cock. Part of him said, women do this all the time, just get on with it. Another part said. You will be a cocksucker now. You'll never be a real man again. The part that won said "Two million fucking quid Mark. You will never have to work again."

He engulfed Simon's cock. He could only get half of into his mouth. Part of his brain screamed no. As his lips and tongue got to work, he thought about it. He would have to do this, every day for seven years. Seven years of sucking a man, and probably a lot more. Living the life of a rich beautiful woman. Eating the finest food, wearing the finest clothes.

He felt Simon spurting into his mouth. As he swallowed he thought. Yes, he could put up with it. For the money and the lifestyle. He could. Or rather she could, because in front of her was Seven Years as a Wife.

I will continue this story if there is any interest.