New! I’m Such a Gay Sissy Wife

A Vignette by the creative Mistress of Sissy Literature, Priscilla Gay Bouffant. 

After an almost dead sexual martial relationship, a slightly effeminate young man goes behind his dominant wife to find better intimacy and to explore his feminine persona "Lisbeth." He will discover a new world of sexual fulfillment and liberation, but how will his wife react to sexy beautiful Lisbeth and how will it impact his new identity?  

Chapter I: Just a Sweet, Sissy, Salon Boy

    It truly would have been difficult to have ever imagined my life as it is today. Of course, as a sissy crossdresser, I’d always fantasized about being the subservient sissy maid of a wealthy, arrogant female. However, I had never even remotely dreamed, that I’d become the well-turned-out Trophy Sissy, of a manly, hyper-masculine, male. 

    How could I have? I didn’t think I was at all homosexual or romantically attracted to men. Even a little bit. I was a “straight” transvestite, who enjoyed sexual intimacy with females only. I was even still married to a women, when I ended up going to bed with my first male. A guy who turned out to be a young, college student. 

    Jasmine and I had been married for two years at the time. We’d met when she had come into the very “Chic-Chic” hair salon where I worked. The spa and beauty parlor was called, “Salon Visage.” We’d begun dating. When we appeared to becoming serious, I revealed my girly taste in the wearing of female clothing. 

    Jasmine was more amused than anything. She confided in me that as a “Lesbian Leaning” bisexual, she enjoyed the company of submissive, effeminate males such as me. However she put limitations upon my dressing immediately. As she said, “Now don’t think you’ll be swishing around as some sort of ‘Princess Maid’ or something similar all of the time.”

    Even my mother and sister, who had always teased me about being a “Sissy Hairdresser” were surprised when we became engaged. Not only did Jasmine come form a wealthy family, but she had an amazing job where she could be independent from her family’s wealth, should she desire to be. 

    That was something else, that Jasmine cautioned me about, when she said, “As your mother and sister don’t know a thing about your dressing up as a sissy, I don’t want my family or our friends to know either. That is something we will keep private, Lisbeth.”

    She’d taken to calling me Lisbeth when I was dressed. I’d always just used my given name of “Leslie” as it worked for a girl or boy. But Jasmine had added, “I married someone named Leslie and he isn’t a girl. He might be a sissy, but he’s not a girl. Lisbeth is a girl though.”

    After about a year of marriage, we began to double date and socialize with another married couple named Brent and Celia. Brent worked for the same company that Jasmine worked for. His wife Celia, worked part-time doing nails at another hair salon. Brent, just like my wife Jasmine, was the dominant, aggressive, assertive partner in the relationship.

    Celia was very much like me. Subservient and obedient. I recall so well, to this day, always being so very, terribly intimidated in Brent’s manly presence. He literally made me feel so truly girly when he was around. He was just so self-assured and so very masculine. His manliness was just over-powering. It was as if he could see thru me and knew how much of a sissy that I really was.

    Even as they were polar opposites, I could see that Jasmine and Celia were really hitting it off. I wanted badly to be as friendly with Brent. So, when he would suggest that we take in a Hockey game together, go have a beer,. or even have a cup of coffee or do lunch, I’d agree. But I still couldn’t help myself.

    Whenever Brent and I went somewhere together without our wives, in my mind, he and I were out on a date. I just hoped when we were together that it didn’t show that I thought of myself as so much less of a male than he was. But it was true, I was far less masculine than Brent.

    Brent even began to come into “Salon Visage” to have me cut his hair every few weeks. His hair was dark, with flecks of early gray in it. I politely asked about touching the gray up, though I told him that the early, “Salt and Pepper” look really worked for him.

    He thanked me and then mentioned, “I like your long hair, Leslie. It’s the perfect length for you. Just touches your shoulders. It looks great on you. Have you ever thought of having it layered, and having blond highlights added to the medium brown? Celia did that once and I thought it looked great.”

    It was as if I was ready to swoon. It really hit me then, how much I related to Brent, in the very same manner that a female would, to a guy she was hot for. I just felt so flattered that this guy thought I could look as good as his wife if I would do something just a little different with my hair.

    Brent even went so far as to meet, and become friendly with the owner of the salon, my boss, Teresa. He really talked me up to “Terri” as we called her. Terri remarked, “That guy Brent really thinks a lot of you Leslie. You two have really become very close, haven’t you?”

    It didn’t dawn on me then, that she was talking to me about Brent, in the same way that she might speak to a female friend. It was a really confusing time in my life and I’d finally act out on my feminine emotions, though not with Brent, initially.

    At this point I was still lost as to what was going on. Of course, Jasmine knew Brent’s work schedule as well as his travel schedule for out of town business. Why wouldn’t she? They worked for the same company. I was mostly clueless as to when Brent traveled, though once in a while when he’d make his next appointment, he’d mention he was going out of town and he’d have to skip a week.

    Jasmine began to occasionally call me from her office to tell me she was working late. I didn’t put two and two together. Not right away anyway. But Jasmine and Celia had gotten really, really close. They were now lovers. 

   So when Brent went out of town, Jasmine was dropping in on Celia after work, and they were eating each other’s pussies and screwing with a dildo. I was limited to dressing up only when Jasmine gave me permission. It just wasn’t enough. So when Jasmine began to take business trips, sometimes up to a week, I’d dress nearly every waking hour at home.

    I finally ventured out one evening, to a transgender club. On my initial visit, I dressed more as an effeminate male, which was how I’d now been dressing at the salon, with much greater frequency. I was checking things out at the club when a “Girl” came over to my table and asked, “Slumming or cruising, honey?” Then she smiled and sat down.

    “Hi. My name is Cynthia. What’s your’s sweetie?” Cynthia asked.

    “Leslie. I guess I’m just checking the scene out? I’ve been dressing since I was sixteen. I’m 24 now. My wife limits how often I can dress. So now, whenever she goes out of town I dress as often as I can. But, I want to go public. I read about this club. So I’m just looking it over. It’s crazy, but I’ve been having this thing about a guy I know, lately,” I sighed.

    “It’s wild, but I feel girly around him. He’s a married guy and my wife and I are friendly with him and his wife. I don’t get it. He’s really very masculine so I know it would creep him out. I guess what I’m saying is I’d like to find out what it’s like to be with a guy, when I’m dressed all-girly?” I said. 

    “With my wife out of town, I think this might be the right time to test the waters? I guess it gets pretty crowded and busy Friday and Saturday nights? What about Sunday? I have Monday’s off,” I said.

    “Well you’ve come to the right place. And yes, Sunday’s might be a good night if it’s your first time out dressed. You could try a sort of swishy look and not too ultra-femme if you know what I mean? And I could help you, with that. And in case you can’t tell, honey. Well, yes. I’m a Trans-girl and I’m transitioning,” Cynthia said.

    “Honestly, I only might have suspected that because of the venue. Seriously. I do hair for a living. I make women beautiful all day long. And I don’t really think I’d have been able to out you, even if you came into the Nob Hill salon where I work,” I said.

   Cynthia and I talked for quite a while, and I settled on an outfit, a look and a Sunday evening visit to “Shelley’s” which was the name of the Trans-club. Saturday I went to a sex-shop for a butt-plug kit, and some desensitizing lube that Cynthia recommended. I also dropped into a Unisex shop for a few things. 

    I truly wanted a “Girly” look, but for now, my first real trip outside the house dressed as a “Femme” I didn’t want to go over the top. In fact, I was just apprehensive enough that I’d asked Cynthia, to drop by the house, check me out, give me some pointers and then take me to “Shelley’s Club” just so I could settle in comfortably to the atmosphere on Sunday evening.

    I went for a really smooth, girly body. In case I did pick a guy up, I didn’t want to ruin the mood by being a real “Hairy Mary” if I stripped down for sex. At this point in our marriage, even when I was dressed as “Lisbeth” with my wife, Jasmine, sex just didn’t seem to be as exciting. So, I was surely looking for something new. I went the entire route getting ready for my night out. 

    After a thorough depilation, I soaked, shampooed and conditioned in a scented tub, full of oils and bubbles. I loved smelling so very feminine. After I toweled dry and wrapped my hair up, turban style, I covered my body in scented lotions, powder and moisturizer. Once I felt as if everything had set, just right, I fitted myself with a pre-laced, constricting waist-cinch.

    I really struggled to get the snaps in front to tighten, but they did. The cinch actually gave me a modest bit of cleavage in front, which  I augmented ever so slightly, with some breast forms. I was already thinking of using Estrogen hormones. Plus the cinch narrowed my waist to more slender proportions. 

    To take my bath, I’d removed the butt plug I’d been wearing. I reinserted it. I was thrilled with the manner in which it caused my hips to wiggle so seductively. I then stepped into a panty brief and a pair of marabou slippers. Then I put on a robe in order to set my hair, do my fingernails and apply a base coat of makeup. 

    I really enjoyed putting my hair up with hot rollers and setting gel. After that, I covered it with a reddish-pink, bouffant hairnet. As I put on my base-coat of makeup I felt like a girl in her boudoir getting ready for a date. Which, I guess, I actually was. I painted my nails red.

    Once my nails were dry I settled on pink, stretch slacks and a white, sequined cami top, with a matching white, ribbed cardigan, left open and not buttoned. I slipped on a pair of pink, ankle socks and some kitten heeled black pumps. I found a black, over-the-shoulder bag which I put my money, makeup and lubricant in.

    I didn’t finish my makeup or hair until just before Cynthia arrived. I did a soft but obvious cosmetic application, and I teased my bobbed hair into a a sort of “puffed” look. I sprayed my tresses into place. Then I touched up my hot-pink lipstick and clipped on some hoop earrings, by Anne Klein. 

    I’d thought about having my ears pierced before. And now I knew I would plan on having them done at the salon ASAP. Cynthia looked me over and smiled, saying, “You look great Leslie. I love the way you modulated your voice when you greeted me. I guess you practice that voice when you dress with your wife?”

    “Yes. I do. She insists that I’m as realistic as possible. She even calls me Lisbeth. Lisbeth Renee at times. But I still prefer the androgynous Leslie,” I said.

    “I hope you don’t mind, but I called a young, cute, college guy, that’s been coming into the club looking for sissy girls. His name is  Coleman. He’s from Texas. Goes to Berkeley. Prefers to be called Cole. I thought the two of you would be a perfect match. He’s very unobtrusive. You could even take him home, if you wanted,” Cynthia said. 

    I liked Cole right away and I could tell that he liked me. He was tall. Even in two-inch heels, which made me about 5 feet 11 inches tall, Cole was still taller than I was. He was trim and athletic looking. I hoped his cock wasn’t too huge. I wasn’t sure what I could take in my ass? He was also good looking. 

    We danced a few dances. We did both fast dances and cheek to cheek, dancing. He insisted on buying me a drink, saying, “My parents are loaded. I’m a trust fund kid. Please, I wouldn’t feel right if you paid for anything, Leslie.”

    We were sipping our drink when I asked, “Did you drive Cole? Great. Look, why don’t we go over my place and have a few more, drinks. If you have too much to drink at my house, you can spend the night. No strings attached.”

    “That sounds great Leslie,” Cole smiled.

    After he’d opened the car door for me, and before he helped me into the front seat, Cole took me in his arms and kissed me, saying, “I’ve been wanting to do that since Cynthia introduced us, Leslie. I hope you don’t mind?”

    “Mind? Why should I mind, gorgeous? I think we should kiss again, don’t you?” I asked as he embraced me and then gave me a long, hot, sexy, French kiss.

    On the drive to my place I filled Cole in fully on my home situation, adding, “I can watch my wife on ‘Find a Friend’. Of course she can watch me, but my phone has been off since I left the house. She’s a businesswoman. Her phone is always on.”

    After we walked in the front door and got comfortable, I offered Cole some Pot to smoke, in addition to a drink.

    “Pot would be great. Truthfully, that Cherry Brandy you were getting for yourself, sounds great to me,” Cole replied.

    We were sipping our Brandy, and smoking a Joint when I really got hot and horny for Cole. I let him know by saying, “Cole honey. I want you to sit back and relax. I’m going to kneel down in front of you and remove your shoes, slacks and underwear. Then I want to go crazy on that cock of your’s, if that’s okay with you baby?”

    “Oh wow, Leslie. That is so forward and upfront. But yeah, sure. Are you certain I can’t do something for you?” Cole asked.

    “Right now precious, you’ll be doing plenty for me if you enjoy what I’m about to do,” I smiled.

    I was on my knees in a flash. I removed Cole’s shoes, unbuckled his belt and pulled his slacks and underwear off. I licked his cock and massaged it tenderly within my hands. HIs penis grew as I fondled it. It was so nice and hard. I could feel my dick, elongating in my panty brief. 

    Finally I slipped Cole’s nice, fat, hard cock in between my painted lips, and at long last into my moist mouth. I heard his loud gasp as I began to pump my head up and down upon his swollen, rock-hard penis. I fondled his enlarged testicles with my manicured fingers.

    I was loving every minute of what I was doing. Oddly enough, as I closed my eyes, I pictured myself sucking Brent’s cock and my penile arousal increased even more. Thinking of having Brent’s penis between my pink, frosted lips, gave me chills. As cute and nice looking as Cole was, I wanted him to be the very handsome, big, strong Brent, whose dick I was licking. 

    I loved the sound of Cole gasping as I realized he was now getting ready to climax. My heart beat a little quicker and I took a really deep breath as I readied myself to swallow his sperm. As Cole’s dick spasmed, I could feel it momentarily enlarge even more, as his Cum began to spurt into my mouth.

    I took a big gulp and continued gulping, as gobs of semen entered my throat. It turned me on so much to hear Cole groan as he emptied his ball-sac into my wet, hungry mouth. When he was completely drained I kissed all over Cole’s testicles, penis and thighs. I giggled and smiled up at him as he closed his eyes blissfully and laid his head back. 

    “Yum, Cole honey, that tasted so good. My gosh you have such a beautiful cock,” I said, as I stood up dizzily and reached for my glass of Cherry Brandy and took a large sip.

    Cole laughed and relit the joint and handed it to me. Then he said, “Come and sit on my lap girl and give me a kiss and I’ll play with your clit.”

    “Are you certain you want to kiss me after I swallowed a few pints of your Cum, honey? Well if you’re going to kiss me, and play with my clit baby, I’m freshening my lipstick and getting some lube,” I said, as I minced over to my purse.

    “Wow, Leslie you are so, so much like a real, prissy, girly-girl, baby. You even touch up your lips like a chick,” Cole said as I fixed my face, looking into my compact. 

    I sashayed back over to Cole, winking, with a bottle of lube in my hand. Prior to sitting down, I wiggled my hips and slid down both my stretch slacks and my panty-brief, exposing my boner. It wasn’t quite as impressive as Cole’s prick, but it was okay. Being that it was “Pre-Estrogen,” it was still pretty much a normal cock. 

    Cole pulled me onto his lap and really smothered me with a strong, manly kiss. When we broke away from the embrace, I could see I’d left some of my pink-frost lipstick on his lips. I thought he’d look cute wearing lipstick but I didn’t dare tell him.

   Cole lubed both his hands and began to firmly, massage my penis and testicles. He also began kissing my lips again. Then he took one hand off of my genitals and put in behind my neck and he really began to kiss me firmly as he jacked-me-off. I felt so forcibly dominated and I just loved it. 

    I was really getting wildly turned on and just couldn’t control myself. I was thinking so much about being in Brent’s arms having my cock manipulated that I nearly simpered out the name Brent. But instead, I mewled out “Oh Cole. Oh please don’t stop? I’m coming!” 

    I began squirting wildly, and simpering girlishly. Being made love to in such a rough, forcible manner really did bring out the sissy in me. Not that it took all that much to do that, when I was attired so swishy. When my ejaculation finally ceased, I laid my head upon Cole’s shoulder and sighed. He ran his lubed fingers thru my hair and I nuzzled closer to him.

    “Oh Cole, that was so nice. Oh I hope you liked it enough to do that with me once again? Oh wow!” I squealed prissily. 

    ‘You really make a pretty girl Leslie. I’d love to get together with you again,” Cole added.

    “Can you spend the night with me? I’d love that. I’ll put on a really pretty girly nightgown. I can wake you up early, with a nice blow-job? Oh wait. I have a great idea. This will be so much fun. Why not spend the week here? I mean come over every night after work and I’ll cook for you and fix you your favorite drinks,” I cooed.

    “I’ll dress really femme, in a dress and real high-heels. I’ll do up my hair and wear hot makeup. Oh please say you’ll do that Cole?” I asked.

    “You’re really serious aren’t you? That would be cool. Sure. When did you say your wife gets back?” Cole asked.

    “Probably Friday afternoon. But to be safe, right now we’ll plan on getting together Monday thru Wednesday evenings. C’mon. Let’s take a shower together,” I squealed.

    Jasmine and I had always had separate bedrooms and really only got in bed together to have sex. So I took Cole to my room. After we showered together we were really horny again. Cole was barely 21 and I was 24. So we had really active sex drives. As we climbed into bed, with me in a negligee, with my hair redone and wearing full makeup, I asked him about screwing me.

    “I’ve only worn a butt-plug for a little over 24 hours. I’ve never really had anything up there besides a couple or three, of Jasmine’s fingers. Could we try you fucking me with your cock, anyway? Just to get me loosened up? Cynthia said that the desensitizing lubricant is the very best,” I said. 

    “I guess we can? I’m game. Why not?” Cole asked, putting some lube on the fingers of his right hand and probing my rectum. It really felt great, especially as we were also French Kissing, and Cole had his left hand on my cock. I was swooning, like a prissy schoolgirl. I wanted him inside of my anus.

    “Have you done this with a girl or a sissy like me Cole?” I asked.

    “Yes. If you really care to try it, get on your hands and knees with your butt up in the air. I’ll mount you doggie style. If it doesn’t feel good to you, we’ll stop and then try it again later in the week after you’ve worn the butt plug, longer,” Cole explained. 

    He worked his fingers in and out of me, and then he probed me with his cock. He slowly pushed it in and withdrew it, time and time again. Each time it went in a little further. Cynthia was correct. The anesthetic in the lubricant had begun to deaden some of the discomfort. I was beyond stopping at this juncture.

    Cole’s cock went further and further inside of me until I let out a squeal as it went all the way in. At this point I begged him, “Please Cole? Fuck me. Please fuck me? Fuck me nice and slow at first. But please fuck me?”

    His dick slid in and out and I slowly pushed my ass to meet his thrusts and then I’d pull away briefly. But once we got into a rhythm, we screwed as if we were a couple of Bunny Rabbits. The last thing I recalled, prior to nearly passing out, was Cole climaxing into my rectum and my cock spurting crazily all over the bedsheets. I know I screamed like a banshee. 

    It was the most effeminate sound that had ever emitted from my pretty lips. After our climaxes, Cole and I embraced, both of us sticky with gooey Cum, but we couldn’t have cared any less. That evening, I slept the dizzying, joyous, sated sleep of a Sissy Harlot. It wasn’t until 4:30 AM, when I wrapped my lips around Cole’s expanding cock, that Cole even realized it was morning.

    I simply craved man-cock at that point in my life. I was surely going to do what I’d just done, again and again. Given the chance, I didn’t know how I could possibly do anything else? Why not? I didn’t have a good answer for that last question. 

Chapter Two: Desperately Needing a Man

    Things happen. Things change. People change. Life goes on. As it turned out, my wife Jasmine, along with another woman where she worked, and our friend, Brent, Celia’s hubby, were all involved in a three-week rotation of conducting out-of-town business for the firm they were employed by.

    Which, of course meant that Cole and I could “Play House” every three weeks, whenever Jasmine went out of town. In fact Cole and I  continued to see each other, for one week out of every three, throughout that Winter and Spring. Right up until Cole graduated from UC Berkeley. At that point he went back to Austin, Texas to seek his Master’s Degree. 

         We really did have a long, crazy “Fuck-Fest” the last time Cole and I  were together. I knew I’d really miss Cole. Until, of course, I could find another man that would satisfy my sexual appetites, as well quench my thirst for dressing as a female while we were together. 

    By the time Cole departed for Texas, I had figured out that during the week that Brent was scheduled to go out of town on business, my wife Jasmine, was seeing Brent’s wife, Celia. Not that I cared all that much. By that time sex between Jasmine and I had slowed to a mere trickle.

    Added to that, was the fact that I craved dressing up so terribly, that I’d begun to femme-up as soon as I’d get home from work. I’d then  serve Jasmine dinner, while I was dressed in a skirt, blouse, heels and an apron, with full makeup and elegantly styled hair. Jasmine was a little perturbed by that sort of behavior on my part. It finally came to a head, one evening after dinner while I served her dessert and coffee in the den.

    “You know Leslie, or Lisbeth, or Lisbeth Renee, or whoever the fuck you are tonight? I thought we’d agreed a long while ago that you would only crossdress with my permission? So could you tell me just what the fuck is going on here?” Jasmine said, her speech slightly slurred.

    “I know you’ve had a couple of drinks more than you usually have Jasmine. But do you really need to use that kind of language when you speak to me?” I asked.

    “Now you listen to me, you prissy, little bitch. I’ll talk to you any damned way I feel like!” Jasmine said, raising her voice uncharacteristically. 

    Then she paused and shook her head, saying, “I apologize Leslie. I really do. I shouldn’t speak to you like that. Please, sit down next to me and just tell me what’s going on? Please? I just have a lot of stress from work. Please sit here? That’s my girl. You know something? You really do look pretty tonight, Leslie. Maybe you should dress more often?”

    Jasmine then pulled me tightly to her and kissed me softly on the lips. It did feel good. But I couldn’t help myself once again. I couldn’t hold back. I was actually tearing up. My eyes were moist. I felt our marriage coming to an end.

    “Really? Do you really think I’m pretty Jasmine? Am I as pretty as Celia is? You know? When you claim you’re working late? When you’re actually with her almost every evening when Brent is out of town?” I asked. 

    Jasmine looked at me in disbelief. She pulled away from me. She stood up. I was ready to cry. Jasmine shook her head. I knew this was likely the end of our marriage as we both knew it. Then Jasmine spoke.

    “It wasn’t like that. At first, anyway. I only went over to console Celia as a friend when she discovered Brent was cheating on her. But, well. As you are well aware of, I’ve always been Bi. And I do have a thing about pretty, submissive femmes. And well, you’re right. Celia and I have been having an affair,” Jasmine admitted.

    “That’s okay. Because I’ve been having an affair also, Jasmine,” I said on the brink of sobbing.

    “What? You? With who? Someone at work? A customer? Who is she?” Jasmine asked incredulously.

    “That’s just the thing, Jasmine. Oh you’ll love this. It isn’t a she. It’s a guy. I’ve been fucking a young, Berkeley college kid from Texas. It’s over, now though. He’s back home. But I’ve been screwing him for the past 5 months right here at the house whenever you’ve been away,” I said, before I burst into a flood of girlish tears.

    Jasmine walked over to me. She took hold of me and stood me up. I expected her to slap my face, or something worse. But, as I sobbed, nearly hysterically, she hugged me. She held me at arms length and looked at me, biting her lower lip. Then she hugged me and kissed my cheeks.

    “It’s okay honey. It’s going to be okay. You never were really great boyfriend or husband material anyway. But you’ve always made an excellent girlfriend. You’ll find someone else. In fact, I know of someone else. Someone who would very likely be really interested in you. And I think you’d be interested in him,” Jasmine said.

    “What? What are you talking about Jasmine? You don’t care that I’ve been screwing a guy right here in our home? Do you really want me to find another boyfriend?” I asked, unbelievingly. 

    “What’s wrong with that? Especially when you get along very well with this guy. Why do you think Brent was, and still would be, cheating on Celia? Because he’s oversexed about females? Not really. Brent is as bisexual as the rest of us. And Brent has a thing for pretty sissies that just won’t quit,” Jasmine said to my astonishment.

    “I’ve seen how the two of you interact. I think both of you have a thing for each other, simply because you sense something about the other person. In your case it just might be similar to a woman’s intuition? I noticed it whenever you have returned from a sporting event, or having a few beers with Brent. I could see a longing in your eyes. Just like a girl that wished her date would have made a pass at her,” Jasmine said, knowingly.

    “Look. I think you truly have found yourself with this college kid. Now then. Why don’t you explore it? At least for your own satisfaction. Honestly honey. I only want you to be happy. And if we split up, I intend to see that you are secure financially. At the very least in the short term. If not further than that,” Jasmine said, sincerely.

    “What am I supposed to do? Call Brent up and ask him out?” I said, frustrated.

    “Don’t be ridiculous Leslie. Brent knows all about Celia and I. Of course, we also both know about him. He’s actually trying to cool it, hoping we will. Let me handle this. I’ll talk to both Celia and Brent. I’ll let them know exactly what is going on. I’ll suggest we get together right here at our place for dinner on a Saturday evening,” Jasmine said.

    “You can get dressed to the max honey. Go all out. Even get a full makeover if you want to. And then you can play like a 1960’s Susie Homemaker. You can cook and serve the meal. You need to try this, Doll. I’m serious. Just think about it,” Jasmine insisted.

    I took a deep breath. I composed myself. I’d stopped crying for the most part. I nodded and said, “You’re right. Go ahead. Set things up. I might even use this as an excuse to do something a little different with my hair and get my ears double pierced,” I said, almost starting to cry again.

    “Okay. Well then, that’s great, Leslie. Let me ask you something?” Jasmine said, taking hold of me.

    “Have you been taking Estrogen, Leslie? I don’t care if you have, by the way. It might even be a good idea at some point. But the way you were crying. It was so truly girly. I’ve never seen you act like such a sissy-poof, before. But it’s okay. I think you got rid of a lot of angst. Didn’t you?” Jasmine asked.

    “Yes. Yes. It was actually a very good cry. I feel much better. And I’m already feeling okay about meeting Brent, with me as a girl. Because it will almost be like meeting him all over again,” I added.

    “You know something Leslie. I believe you are correct. In fact, I’ll caution Brent to treat it, just like that. Like meeting a new girl for the first time,” Jasmine assured me. 

    The dinner was set up for the Saturday, of the week, where Brent and Jasmine’s co-worker, was the employee that was out-of-town on business. Within the three weeks prior to the dinner, I not only took the time to have my ears double-pierced at the salon, but I asked my boss, Teresa, to put some Golden-Blonde highlights in my medium-brown hair. 

   Teresa insisted I let her put a “Significant” amount of highlighting in. She said, “Don’t shortchange yourself Leslie. You need to go with 33% to 40%  of your tresses highlighted, to make a real impression on this guy. Is it Brent? That handsome stud that comes in here and has you cut his hair?”  

    Both Jasmine and I had told Teresa that I was considering a real “Guy to Girl” transition, and I was making the first significant move in that direction. I would later be surprised at how many of the salon employees and clients would be strongly positive towards my transitioning.

    After having my hair cut and stylized into a mid-length, slightly inverted bob, Jasmine and I got together to plan my outfit and “look,” for what we were kiddingly calling, my “Blind Date” with Brent. I wanted to go “Hot and Sweet” and Jasmine agreed. I didn’t realize how life-altering, this “Dinner for four” would actually be for the four of us? 

    By the day of the dinner, I was on pins and needles and Jasmine had to give me a Valium to settle me down. She laughed and teased, “I cannot imagine what an emotional mess you’ll be once you are on Estrogen? Though, I guess it’s possible you’re already so girly it will chill you out?” 

    I did a soak in a tub full of oils and salts. Jasmine toweled me dry and lavished every lotion and powder in her bathroom upon my skin. She took the time to roll my hair up on mid-size rollers, prior to doing my finger and toenails. She went all out with a really hot shade of Crimson. I’d had my legs waxed earlier that day at the salon, right after my shift was over. 

    I’d been wearing a butt-plug for some manner of time by then, and I left it out intentionally for that evening. If Brent was interested in my Sissy-Ass-Pussy, I was more than interested in what he had dangling between his solid, manly thighs. Jasmine found the tiniest waist-cinch that she owned and snugged it around me, giving me the most girlish figure she possibly could. 

    After fitting me with a padded training bra, and panty-brief she laid out my outfit saying, “You don’t want your boy-parts dangling, Leslie. Do you want to be Leslie, or Lisbeth tonight? How do you want to be introduced?”

    “I’d prefer Leslie tonight. Nothing too confusing just now. We could always tell Brent about your pet name for me. It is pretty Jasmine. Lisbeth Renee is just such a lovely name. I can’t believe all the flesh that this tight, waist-cinch positioned in my bosom region? It gave me cute little titis,” I giggled.

    By the time that Jasmine and I had prepared the meal, set the table and gotten me ready to meet Brent, I was absolutely glowing. I was just a little nervous but radiant, over the way I looked.  We’d put one set of large “Gypsy” hoops and another set of dangling, jeweled pendants into my piercing holes. 

    Next, Jasmine chose a really flirty, floral print sundress for me to wear. I didn’t wear any hosiery, just to show off my painted toes and my waxed legs. My makeup was done very exotically, as if I were wearing a gown and going to be dining and dancing at a country club. I’d practiced walking seductively for the past three weeks, in ankle-strap, four-inch spike heel pumps. 

    Even after the Valium I took, and the glass of Brandy I had downed to calm my nerves, I was still able to walk reasonably well in such tall heels. I’d been heavily perfumed and my hair was now fashioned in a pert, curled, upsweep. I loved the way my wet, inviting, crimson lips matched my dark-red, elongated, acrylic fingernails. 

    The finishing touches were a cute little white bow, fixed in the curls behind my head. Along with a matching, white, leather choker around my neck. I listened as Jasmine answered the door, and greeted Brent and Celia. Once they were seated Jasmine called out to me.

    “Leslie? Could you come in here and say hello to our guests and take their drink order honey? She’s just putting the finishing touches on a beautiful meal that she mostly prepared. Here’s our little beauty right now. Leslie you know Brent and Celia. Though they’ve never seen you dolled up quite this gorgeously. Have they? Brent and Celia, meet the lovely, new Leslie, or Lisbeth Renee as I like to call her when she’s so very prettily turned out,” Jasmine announced as I did a well-rehearsed twirl, and giggled seductively.

    “Hello, Celia. Hello Brent. Welcome. I do hope you like what you see? It took me hours to look this way, for you. What would everyone enjoy to drink right now?” I asked, with a nicely executed curtsey. 

    “Wow. Let us get a good look at you, girl? Celia, can you believe this? I love the favorite name you have for her, Jasmine,” Brent said, walking very close to me, and taking my hands, before he planted a promising kiss on my moistened lips.

    “Yes, Brent she’s ravishing. And from the way she’s preening, I’d hazard a guess, that she’s all your’s for the evening?” Celia added.

    When Brent kissed me I shivered with delight. The chill went right up my spine and I felt like melting into his arms right then and there. This was already all so right. I took the drink order and minced off. Afterwards, I served the entire meal and got up and down getting everyone a fresh drink. 

    I enjoyed doing it, just to get close to Brent as he was seated at the opposite end of the table so we could look directly at each other. I served coffee and some Benedictine Brandy after the meal, in the den. Before any of us had barely taken a few sips from our drink, Jasmine stood up and said, “Celia and I are going to my boudoir. We want you two new Lovebirds to have some privacy. So if you’ll excuse us?” 

    “So should I call you Leslie or Lisbeth Renee tonight? Brent asked, after our wives had ventured off. 

    “Whatever you want to call me, Brent. I’m more comfortable with Leslie right now, though,” I whispered with my new, practiced, “girl” voice.

    “Then it’s Leslie. You know you look fantastic and I love what I see. Could I come over there and sit next to you on that sofa Leslie?” Brent asked.

    “Yes. Of course. Please do. And thank you for such nice compliments on my appearance. I’m still a teeny bit nervous,” I said as Brent sat down next to me.

    “Well we can’t have that now. Can we? Maybe if I kissed you?” Brent said, taking me in his really strong, manly arms and giving me a very promising, long French kiss. 

    “Oh Brent. That was nice. Yes. That really broke the ice, very nicely,” I said as my excitement began to mount.

    “Your hair is different. I really like it,” Brent said.

    “Well thank you Brent for noticing it. I did get it done just for you. I do hope you mean the color? You once told me you liked my long hair. You also said, that Celia had had her brown hair done with Blonde highlights. I wasn’t certain which shade of blonde? So I told Teresa at the salon to put in plenty of Golden Blonde highlights. Just for you Brent,” I teased ever so girlishly.

    “I like the way it turned out. I also like Teresa a lot,” Brent said.

    “Yes, I know. And she likes you, also. She referred to you as a stud, Brent. Is that true? Are you a stud?” I asked him, as I touched his cheek lightly. 

    “Would you like to find out Leslie?” Brent asked.

    “Yes I would Brent. Would you like me to take you to my boudoir or would you enjoy showing me what a real stud you are right here in the den, Brent?” I asked.

    “Let’s lock the den door for privacy and I’ll show you right here and now Leslie,” Brent added.

    I arose to my feet, and sashayed to the door and locked it. I grabbed my clutch-purse from a lamp-table and sat on the edge of the sofa. I checked my face and hair in my compact. After putting on a nice wet coat of Dark-Crimson lipstick I unpinned my upsweep and shook out my curls, letting the white ribbon drift to the floor.

    After putting my compact and lipstick back in the clutch, I took out my favorite rectal lubricant. Then I slid off my panty-brief, leaving on my high heels. I don’t there there is quite anything like, being fucked with a pair of “Catch-Me, Fuck-Me” heels upon my feet. I turned to Brent and asked, “Should I remove your shoes, socks, pants and underwear, you big stud? Or would you prefer to do that, Sir Brent?”

    Brent removed those items in no time flat. Then I threw a sofa pillow on the floor and got on my knees in front of Brent. I examined his cock and said, “Lay back darling and enjoy my mouth on your penis. I want to get it really big, fat and hard. Then I want you to screw me.”

    I gave his cock the “Ice Cream Cone” treatment, licking all around it. I slathered his balls with the wetness from my mouth. He developed a full erection very rapidly. I would have loved to have him fill my mouth, throat and tummy with his sticky Cum but I really wanted his manly seed up my ass. 

    So once his penis was rock hard I said, “Brent. Would you like to fuck me now? In fact, please fuck me now Brent? I really want to feel your cock up inside of me so very badly,” I pleaded.

    “Of course I’ll fuck you my sweet Leslie. Kneel here in front of the sofa. Bend over at the waist darling. Hold onto that cushion. Let me have that lubricant and I’ll get both of us sufficiently oiled up my love,” Brent said quietly and firmly. 

    As I held tightly to the sofa cushion, and knelt upon a pillow, I could feel Brent’s fingers inside my rectal cavity, applying the desensitizing lube to the inner walls of my anus. His fingers felt so strong and manly. Then, as he set his hands upon my hips to position himself directly behind my sissy-boy-pussy, I could feel how firm his grip was.

    This first sexual encounter with Brent, would be a precursor to just how aggressive, assertive and domineering he was. And how firmly he would one day guide me, as he took complete control of me, my appearance, my behavior and my life. As he slowly slid his long hard cock into my anus, he took my breathe away. 

    I laid my head upon the sofa cushion and pushed back to meet the thrusts of Brent’s erect cock. His cock was long and firm. My ass cheeks clenched tightly and snugly around it. I began to moan and sigh as Brent pumped his cock in and out, inside of me. The squeals and panting which I emitted from my throat and lips were beyond girlish and effeminate. 

    I’d never before wanted to be fucked and banged the way in which I desired to be screwed at that moment. Brent’s strong manly arms and his love muscle held me captive. I could sense that my increasing histrionics excited him. All at once I screeched. My hysteria echoed throughout the house as Brent’s cock pulsed dramatically, and his hot, sticky sperm filled my anus. 

    At the same time my cock sprang to life shooting my salty load wildly. I couldn’t control my emotions as I sobbed girlishly as both Brent and I orgasmed. My feminized shape shook. My hair was matted and my makeup was running from my sweat and tears. Brent held my trembling, nearly faint, body. As he withdrew his cock from my ass, I turned in his arms to face him. 

    “Oh Brent. That was so very wonderful. I could feel your penis expand inside of me as you climaxed,” I gasped.

    I laid there facing him, basking in the glow of my sexual blissfulness. I was Brent’s from now on, whenever, wherever and however he wanted me to be his. Later, we walked together, thru the house with me clinging tightly to Brent’s right arm. I was already developing the clingy, cloying, nature, of a very delicate, needy, emotionally dependent female. 

    As we grew nearer to the kitchen we could hear the raucous laughter of Jasmine and the girlish tittering and giggling of Celia. When we arrived to the dining area of the kitchen, where they were now seated, Jasmine winked at me and remarked, “Someone just had a lovely time being pleasured, didn’t she?”

    I’d done what I could, with my lank, previously, sweat-drenched tresses, as well as my smeared mascara, lipstick and eyeshadow. Obviously I still looked a little disheveled.

    “Brent? Celia has told me she’d like to spend the evening here. Any objections?” Jasmine asked.

    “Of course not. I’d enjoy the same privilege if I could?” Brent replied. As he firmly gripped the right cheek of my ass with his strong, right hand.

    “Of course Brent. I’m certain that Leslie would be pleased if you do. Leslie. You and Celia can prepare breakfast for us in the morning. In the meantime, Celia and I will be retiring to my boudoir,” Jasmine announced.

    As they departed, I asked Brent if he’d like a snack?

    “The only snack I’d prefer right now is another slice of your tight, little, sissy-ass-pussy,” he laughed.

    “Then you’ll come to bed with me and spend the night? I promise to give you a pre-dawn blow-job,” I cooed.

    As I minced along beside Brent, I was tightly snuggled against him. I took a deep breath. Just to simply bathe myself in the newly discovered feminine radiance which now engulfed me. I dreamed of life as his mistress, his whore, his slave. I was determined to be whatever Brent required of me. 

Chapter III: A Shamed, Humiliated and Degraded Sissy 

    It was Brent, of course, who suggested, that I should move in with him, and Celia should reside with Jasmine. This was even prior to our divorces being finalized. I was so thrilled and excited when he brought it up. As the most submissive of our foursome, however, I remained silent.

    When Jasmine immediately agreed, and Celia cooingly tittered her approval, I was inwardly ecstatic. However, I was so emotionally overwhelmed I didn’t say a word. Just so that I didn’t show myself as some sort of dithering, flighty, air-head. I just looked at Brent with a worshipful gaze of complete adoration. 

    It didn’t take long for me to be fully nestled within Brent’s luxurious modern, mansion. Nor did it take much more than a moment for Brent to establish his full, firm and complete dominance and control over every aspect of my appearance, wardrobe, daily schedule and my very existence.

    Nor did I object even slightly. In fact, I reveled, relished and submerged myself within the total sovereignty he held over me. He had me move my things into Celia’s old room, which was so gorgeously and femininely appointed that I could have screeched in excitement.

    Celia had also left behind some lovely outfits that fit me beautifully, but no longer fit her after a recent weight loss. The very first time that Brent truly employed and showed his complete dominance over me, occurred at the salon, the next time he came in for me to cut his hair. As always, Teresa, the owner of Salon Visage, who completely adored Brent, came over to fuss and fawn all over him as I gave him a trim. 

    Brent didn’t waste his time, asking, “Teresa? I there any way possible, we could come to an agreement, over adjusting Leslie’s work days as well as her work hours? I’d love to have her home weekends for when I do most of my entertaining.”

    “Additionally, I’d enjoy having her home from work earlier during the week, so that she could have time to put dinner on the table and be dolled-up for me when I arrive from the office,” Brent added.

    “Brent. Just let me know how you want me to schedule your girlfriend. I’ll take care of it,” Teresa promised.

    Already, Teresa was referring to me in the feminine. Because both Brent and Jasmine were telling everyone, whom we knew, that I was now in a male to female transitionary stage. Not that it wasn’t true. In any event, all of the salon employees, as well as the clients were very supportive of me. 

    “How does 830 to 3PM, Monday thru Friday sound to you Teresa?” Brent asked.

    “Consider it done Brent. As of Monday. Anything else, I can do for you, doll?” Teresa asked. 

    “Just that I would enjoy getting your professional opinion as a Cosmetician on something,” Brent added.

    “Why of course Brent. Just ask me,” Teresa added.

    “I just wondered? For the sake of a type of hairstyle that is easier to care for. Would it do, to give Leslie a slightly shorter cut, and maybe put in a perm, so she’d have more of a wash and wear type of hairdo?” Brent asked.

    “Why certainly. What I’d recommend and I’ve always wanted to do with Leslie’s hair, is give her a more sharply inverted bob, but stay with the same length, on the top and sides. Then go with a shaved nape. Then put a really nice, spot, body wave into the longer hair on the top. Easy to style, and versatile for all occasions. Plus it can be worn up, down or somewhere in between with no problem,” Teresa said.

    “I know where you’re going with this Brent. You don’t want Leslie traipsing about the house with her hair up in rollers like some sort of Curler Queen? I don’t blame you either,” Teresa said.

   Brent chuckled and asked, “So could you do that styling anytime soon, Teresa?” Brent asked.

    “Of course we can. I planned on changing all of Leslie’s Saturday appointments for Monday and beyond, to give her this Saturday off. We’ll do it this coming Saturday at 9AM sharp,” Teresa promised.

    You must be wondering, if it troubled me at all, that I was being discussed as if I was someone’s pet poodle, and they were planning on having me groomed differently? No. Not all all. In fact, I have always enjoyed it, when Brent has decided to make a decision concerning me, my apparel, my hairstyle or what I was to be doing, based on his personal tastes or agenda. 

    For instance, we basically have two types of guests that come to the house. One group, are Brent’s co-workers and business clients. For quite some time Brent has been “Out” concerning the fact that he has a Transitioning, Transgender, Live-in girlfriend. 

    Where we reside and work, in and around the San Francisco region, Transgenderism, is not only accepted, it is often considered very hip, if not quite, Chi-Chi. So at any dinner party Brent has, I’m expected to appear as an elegantly dressed, properly coiffured and appealingly made-up female.

    Everyone present, knows and understands very well, that I was born a boy. And that I’m in some stage of transition, and on my way to  becoming a female. It doesn’t appear to be a big deal to anyone including the owner of the company Brent is employed by, nor any of Brent’s wealthy clientele. 

    The second group, on the other hand, would be Brent’s very hedonistic, role-playing, as well as couples and partner swapping, social set. For this type of “Soiree” I can be expected to be attired, coiffed and dramatically made-up in full “Sissy” mode. For these sorts of events, with Brent’s very kinky friends, I was very often referred to as just “Sissy” or “Bitch,” and I must refer to Brent, as Sir, Sir Brent, or Master. 

    I might also expect to be humiliatingly “Costumed,” such as wearing a Bikini-Swimsuit to serve dinner at a party where the rest of the guests are all properly dressed in “Business Casual” attire. On another occasion I inadvertently achieved an erection, when a dominant female was massaging my crotch thru a pair of pink, spandex slacks.

    When I hesitated to masturbate upon the command of the Dominatrix, Brent turned me over his knee and paddled me with a hairbrush loaned to Brent by the same women’s Bitch. While I was still sobbing and apologizing, Brent had me stand in front of him while he masturbated me to orgasm in front of our hysterically laughing guests. 

    When my climax was completed, I was made to lick Brent’s hand clean, prior to being sent to my boudoir to repair my hair and makeup. Afterwards I was to dress myself in a Baby-Doll nightie set, and to wear that Lingerie for the duration of the party. 

    So, though I am frequently shamed, the fear which the shame instills within me, has become very, very, stimulating and quite exciting. And in the long run, I know and trust, that ultimately, Brent will never allow me to come to any real harm. Upon that Saturday, for my new hairstyle, discussed earlier by Brent and Teresa, I was at Salon Visage at 830 AM to assist Teresa with the set-up and opening of the salon.

    My still wet hair was covered with a scarf. I’d washed and conditioned my hair that morning. Teresa put me in a Salon Smock and gave me a rinse, before she began my haircut. As Teresa reshaped my Bob and began the very close shaving of my nape, it was easy for me to become really turned on.  

    After all. The beauty treatment I was about to undergo had been chosen and dictated by my extremely dominant boyfriend and my very pushy boss. My hair had grown longer, so that my long, tapered, inverted Bob, fell past my shoulders and the extreme ends of my hair reached and touched very near to my shoulder blades. 

    My nape was now clipped, buzzed and shaved, above the collar of my ruffled, Bow-tie, Chiffon, Peter-Pan blouse. With the new cut and significant re-shaping, it appeared that the golden blonde highlights in my medium brown hair stood out even more demonstrably. It was now time for Teresa to begin my body-wave.

    “You won’t have a real curly-top, Leslie. Just a nice set, of soft, curvy waves. Let’s get things wrapped-up. These are larger, spongier rollers as you can see. And, I’m rolling you up more loosely. Kind of like that Beach Wave you gave your friend Cynthia last week,” Teresa said as she began my body-wave wrap.

    Cynthia had been into the salon the week prior. I’d given her a long, loose, Beach Perm. I had told Brent, that Cynthia, my friend from “Shelley’s Club,” the Transgender night spot, was coming into the salon. He’d remarked, “Why don’t you ask her if she knows a good hormone doctor where you could begin Estrogen treatments? I think this is the right time for you to begin Estrogen Therapy.”

    Cynthia gave me a card for the clinic where she went for her HRT. I’d already made an appointment with the same Nurse Practitioner, Sally Parish, that Cynthia had seen for her preliminary counseling and evaluation. She worked along with a GYN, named Jocelyne Tabor, who specialize in HRT, Breast Augmentation and SRS. 

    Cynthia assured me I’d be in good hands and that she’d even accompany me if I felt I needed the emotional support. In any event her Beach Perm turned out fabulous and I hoped that the results of my Spot, Body Wave would be just the same or better.

     When Teressa had completed my roll up she applied the smelly perm solution. I’d given my share of perms but this was the first time I’d ever had the smelly solution applied to my own hair. Once she’d completed the application, she let the perm process for about 20 minutes, prior  to rinsing my hair and adding the neutralizer. 

    Then after about five minutes she rinsed out the neutralizer, blotted everything and began removing the rods. Next she blew my hair with a warm but not hot dryer, and styled my hair out, before giving me a final spray. When I did arrive back at the house I sat in front of my vanity mirror and really did my makeup very sexily. 

    Being Saturday, Brent was at his country club playing golf. I decided to meet him at the door in lingerie, full evening makeup and heels, with his favorite drink in my hand. My hair had turned out great. The top curls were loose and wavy. The shaved nape and long inverted bob was so sleek and shiny.

    About 2:30 PM I received a text from Brent, which read, “I should be home in 30 minutes. Are you back from the salon?”

    “Yes. I was thinking of meeting you at the door with a drink? What would you like?” I wrote.

   “Bourbon and water, thanks,” he texted back.

    “My pleasure sir. How about a massage?” I texted.

    “Sounds great. My bedroom or your’s?” He replied.

    “Either. Or the living room or den. I’m very hot and really ready,” was the last thing I sent.

    I had a set of panties on, with a negligee, and strap, high-heeled sandals. I’d put on earrings and bracelets. Once Brent saw me with exotic makeup on, and really wet-look lipstick, he knew I was ready for the taking. He asked, “Could we skip the massage and begin with a blow-job, Sissy?”

    “Yes, Master Brent. Sissy would love to suck your cock,” I added.

    I’ll be in my bedroom. Bring some lubricant, your sexy lips, and your tight ass, Sissy,” he ordered.

    “As you wish, my Master,” I simpered.

    When I reached Brent’s room he was seated on the side edge of his bed, sipping his drink. He was naked. His manly, athletic muscles, rippled in the afternoon sun that peeked thru the curtains. I sat the lube on the lamp table beside the bed. I knelt in front of Brent and reached for his cock with my Frost Pink and White tipped, French Manicured finger nails.

    I was wearing my favorite pink frost lipstick by Runway Rogue. It was a frosted pale, pastel pink, called, Trophy Wife. It was a silk glam, soft shimmer, long wear liquid lipstick. It was perfect for sucking cocks. Runway Rogue had the coolest colors for sissy cocksuckers such as me. 

    Besides Trophy Wife, they had a Ruby Wine shade called Runway Queen. They also had a Rose Pink called Jet Set. And a Golden Bronze color named Sex Symbol. Trophy Wife though was my current favorite at that time.

    “Let me take a good look at you Sissy before you suck me off. I need to send you off to the Beauty Parlor more frequently, if you come back looking so sluttish and acting so horny. You really want some cock right now don’t you Sissy? Tell me how badly you want my cock, you little Sissy Whore,” Brent said.

    “Yes my Master. I want my Master Brent’s cock in my slutty mouth and my whorish ass. I always want your cock, Master Brent. I want your hot sperm down my throat and up inside my anus. Make me your slutty whore Sir Brent. I deserve to be fucked until I pass out and faint from the thrill and the excitement,” I begged.

    “You are a good little sissy whore and a sexy slut, you bitch. Put those cocksucker lips to work Sissy,” Brent told me as I gobbled up his penis. 

    I sucked and I slurped. I loved making Brent’s large cock, wet and glistening. I had always thought Cole’s cock was quite big. Of course I’d always compared it, to my very inadequate sissy penis. Compared to Cole’s dick, Brent’s was giant. I needed all of the lubricant I could possibly fill my ass with, to survive a really good butt-fucking from Brent.

    When Brent was done screwing me and banging my ass aggressively, I was near fainting and just ready to pass out from the frenetic activity. Of course any sex with Brent was a true pleasure. However, even sucking his cock took effort, on my part. When I took his entire cock between my painted lips and into my mouth, it touched the back of my throat and nearly gagged me.

    So whenever he wildly rammed his cock within my ass, I really knew I was being fucked by a real man. Which was something I never was, nor would I ever be. As I sucked gleefully away on Brent’s cock that afternoon, he casually sipped his Bourbon. HIs penis was rock hard and swollen.

    I loved looking into his eyes as I would blow him. I also liked looking at the large veins in his penis as it went in and out of my mouth. I’d just begun to drool uncontrollably, when I felt his cock pulse. Then it jerked spasmodically. Finally I heard him groan as he laid back on the bed.

    Then his penis jerked unrestrained, and his sperm began to ejaculate into my mouth. To keep from spilling any of his wonderful seed, I gulped and sucked more strongly, to direct all of his sperm into my throat. When I finished sucking, his slowly receding cock sat sticky in my hands. 

     I then proceeded to be certain that Brent’s cock was completely cleaned prior to my releasing it. My only regret was that Master Brent might not feel like screwing my asshole until later that evening. I stood up waiting for his instructions. Finally he said, “Go brush your teeth Sissy. I don’t want you kissing me with sperm on your breathe. Then come back and freshen my drink.”

    “Yes Sir Master Brent,” I said.

    After I brought Master another drink, he had me sit beside him in the bed and he kissed me. I felt so girlish and happy when he did that after sex. I could only hope he’d eventually fuck me before his morning blow job.

    My visit with the Nurse Practitioner and eventually the GYN went well. They both agreed I was an ideal candidate for HRT and possible SRS. Happily I left the office after getting my first, twice-monthly Estrogen booster injection. 

    I also received a three-month prescription for Estrogen daily tablets, and another prescription for Estrogen cream to massage into the area where my breasts would eventually begin to grow. I was excited. I began to dress less sissyish and more girlishly at the salon and at home. As long as Brent approved of course. 

    By the time that the divorce between Jasmine and I became final, and Brent’s divorce with Celia reached it’s conclusion, I had a cute little set of A-Cup “Girls” to put inside of the brand-new bras I had purchased. Brent decided we needed to celebrate.

    “We’ll take a little Pre-Honeymoon trip to Maui, Leslie. We also need to begin the paperwork for your legal name change. I like Lisbeth Renee, for a first and middle name for you. But I want you to change your last name. Before you take my last name in marriage, of course. I want you to use Jasmine’s last name,” Brent said.

    “After all. She was the last one to have owned you prior to her passing your ownership off to me. Correct, Sissy? Lisbeth Renee Conte. Very pretty isn’t it Sissy?” Brent asked.

    “Yes Sir, Master Brent. Very, very pretty Sir,” I agreed. I always knew when Brent was to be called Master and Sir, versus Brent. The only other time I referred to him in any other way was when we’d get cuddly before or after sex. Then, he was “Daddy” or Daddy Brent. 

    I’d already had a “Femme” picture taken for my driver’s license. I’d worn makeup and styled my hair very femininely, for my last license renewal. I’d also taken paperwork from the GYN stating I was undergoing SRS transition. Besides the girly photo, under “Sex,” my license read, “Trans-Femme.” 

    I was so very excited about our upcoming trip to Maui. Brent had just gotten a promotion, which meant more money and for the most part, very limited business travel. I loved being able to look really girly and sexy for him in the evening when he got in from the office. The few times he did travel for his job, I got so lonely being at home without him. 

    I missed him horribly and felt so empty and unfulfilled when he wasn’t around. Just to be able to look at him made me feel like a whole person. When I did tell my GYN about that, she suggested I put pictures of him all over my bedroom. Then at night, she added, “You should use a vibrator and fantasize about him Leslie. Then masturbate yourself to climax saying his name out loud.”

    I was very happy that I’d just gotten an Estrogen shot a day prior to our two-week trip to Maui. Estrogen really made me all juicy, sexy, horny and femme for sex with Brent. As I packed our clothes for the trip, I realized from the attire Brent had picked out for me, that I’d be playing the “Sissy” role in Maui, nearly as much as I’d be dressing as his girlfriend and female escort. 

    In fact, when he picked out the clothes I’d be wearing to the airport, and of course onto the plane for the flight to Maui, I could see that I’d be getting more than a few raised eyebrows and outright stares, as I minced through the airport and boarded the plane. 

    Even in the ‘Frisco terminal. Of course I wore panties. Over the panties however Brent had me put on a pair of Victoria’s Secret, Angel-Wear, tan pantyhose.

    I then slipped into a pair of white, spandex short-shorts. At least, the pantyhose obscured the Pink Opal Nail Polish by Cote, that I had painted onto my pedicured toes. I’d just had Caramel Highlights put into my medium brown tresses. I’d also recently had another Body Wave done with my long-inverted bob.

    Prior to leaving for the airport, Brent had told me to gel and style my hair into a sleek, tight, “Updo” with a top-knot. I wore light, but obvious makeup, including, soft pink eyeshadow and matching blush. I’d had a recent pink-frost and white-tipped, French-Manicure done. My lips were touched up with a soft pastel pink lipgloss, by Runway Rogue, that was named “Catwalk Princess.” 

    On my feet were pink-leather, strap sandals, with a towering, three and three-quarter-inch, clunky, block heel. I had an over-the-shoulder, matching, pink, leather bag. My taupe, cap-sleeved, knit-ribbed, front button top, was embellished with a pussy-bow. Hopefully, I thought, that my small, A-Cup “Girls,” now encased in a training brassiere, would convince people that I was a real girl and not a sissy. 

    I was so heavily perfumed, and scented with powders, lotions and hairspray, that even before people saw me I attracted attention. I was really hoping that once we boarded the plane, and got into first class, that I’d get the window seat and fewer people could see how flamboyantly I was attired. That wasn’t going to happen, however.

    In fact as we approached the First-Class entrance, as if the “Sashay” thru the terminal had not attracted enough attention towards me, I realized that I had once worked with the stewardess that was greeting the passengers entering first class. I recalled her name being “Heather.” And if I was correct, she had been a nail and skin care tech at Salon Visage. 

    I even remembered her going-away party, when she went off to Stewardess training. She was quite popular. We’d even dated a time or two. As we neared her, Heather stared at me with a definite look of recognition. I had hoped I was wrong, as she said, “Welcome to Maui Air, and welcome to 1st class. Your seats are to the right of the cabin sir, three rows in.”

    Then, as there was a lull in the First Class passengers boarding for a moment, she leaned over and whispered to me, “Leslie, it’s been a couple of years. You look fantastic by the way. I’ll drop by to talk, as soon as things get less busy.”

    I was outed and from Brent’s smile and his tight squeeze of my hand I knew he’d overheard Leslie. He stopped at our seats and said, “I’ll take the window, Sissy. You can sit on the aisle. That way you can talk to your friend when she gets the time.”

    Indeed, once the plane took off, Heather and the other First Class Steward, took some time to serve all of the passengers their first round of refreshments and take care of their other duties. Heather then stopped by to chat.

    “Leslie, it’s just great to see you again. You do recall working with me at Salon Visage?” Heather asked.

    “Of course I do Heather,” I said, in my frequently practiced, girly voice, which had become second nature to me by then.

    “As I said, you look fantastic and of course you’ve really changed so much. And oh. By the way, great legs,” she smiled.

    Then Brent chimed in, saying, “Oh Sissy? Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

    “Yes, Sir Brent. Sir Brent. This is Heather. We worked together at Salon Visage about three years ago. Heather, this is my boyfriend and the man I live with. His name is Brent. Of course you can call him Brent. I must refer to him as Sir,” I said.

    I knew, from the way Brent was squeezing my right hand, what I was supposed to say. Especially when he referred to me as “Sissy.”

    “Brent I am so very pleased to meet you,” Heather said smiling.

    “And I am also so very glad we met Heather,” Brent added.

    Heather was so composed and so professional. Especially considering that she now realized that she had once dated a Sissy Crossdressing Queer. Not only that, she could easily tell that I was now the Live-In, Submissive Bitch of a truly domineering man. 

    Heather could also now see the French Manicured nails of my right hand. When Brent had taken my hand, he had placed it upon the armrest of my seat, in full view. Not that she couldn’t already see the rest of my feminine outfit, my makeup and my girlishly upswept hair. At last Heather departed, saying, “It was so good to see you again Leslie. And so nice to meet you Brent. Have a wonderful time in Maui.”

    “And oh, Leslie. I do not think that I could walk nearly as well as you do, in those sky-scraper block heels you are wearing. You must get a lot of practice?” Heather added as she returned to her stewardess duties.

    Brent then leaned over and asked, “Did you ever date her Sissy? How about sex? Did you and she ever have sex?”

    “We dated, Master Brent. But no sex,” I admitted.

    “And you know what Sissy? You’ll never again have sex with a female. Unless of course I tell you to suck a woman’s pussy. However your dick is completely useless to any woman now, isn’t it Sissy? It’s a clit now, isn’t it?” Brent whispered.

    “Yes Master Brent. My dick is a completely useless clitoris,” I agreed as I quietly whispered back. 

    My shame was not yet completed for the Maui vacation either. We arrived at the airport in Maui where Brent had reserved a rental vehicle. Brent disdains using public transportation when he travels, so we had taken his luxury sedan to the ‘Frisco terminal and now drove to the elegant, Five-Star plus resort we were staying at in Maui, in a similar rental.

    The 3 bedroom, 3 and a half bath cottage we were renting was phenomenal. It came with a fully stocked bar as well as a full larder of groceries, which had been delivered on the morning of our 2 PM arrival at the cottage. Brent decided which bedroom and bath suite we would each use. 

    After I made him a drink, he sat and relaxed while I unpacked our luggage and put things away. Once I had completed that task I entered the den where he was watching a movie and sipping his Scotch and soda. I asked, “What would your Sissy to do now, Master?”

    “Why don’t you take your hair down and come and sit on your Daddy’s lap, Sissy? Pour yourself a snifter of Apricot Brandy, also,” Brent said.

    “Oh yes Daddy, I would love to do that,” I said as I immediately began to unpin my Sissified Top-Knot.

    My hair was slightly sticky from the humidity and all the gel and hairspray I had applied. I wet a large-toothed comb and ran it thru my hair to untangle my locks. Once my hair was no longer in knots, I dampened a brush and swept it thru my hair to smooth my tresses and refresh my body-waved top-curls. 

    I made the long sides as sleek and swept as possible, and the shortened back straight and thick, where it met my shaved nape. Wearing a fresh coat of Burgundy/Blackberry, Runway Rogue lipstick, and holding a snifter of Brandy, I minced into the den and made myself comfortable on Daddy Brent’s lap. 

    Brent put an arm around me and asked, “So tell me Sissy. Were you sufficiently shamed and degraded this morning, by the way Daddy made you dress? As well as the way I had you fix your face and hair?”

   “Oh yes Daddy. It was quite shameful. But by the same token, it stimulated my clit,” I admitted.

    “It did? You enjoy it when I humiliate you, don’t you Sissy? You enjoyed it when I shamed you in front of the stewardess, didn’t you? Do you think Heather realized you were a Sissy Cocksucker?” Daddy asked.

    “Yes Daddy. I’m sure that she knew that I suck your dick regularly. I could just sense, from the way people looked at me, that they knew I was your Live-In, Submissive Sissy Bitch. But that’s something that nobody can ever take away from me. I’m your Bitch-Whore and no one else can say that,” I said softly.

    “I’m proud of that. I’m proud of the way you degrade me, Daddy. I’m certain that Heather discussed with her fellow stewardesses, how much of a Sissy Bitch I was. But I don’t care. That’s just who I am, and I think a lot of people are just jealous of me,” I stated. 

    “I always want to be your Cocksucker Sissy Bitch, Daddy. Nobody else can lay claim to that,” I pouted.

    “You are such a good girl, Leslie. You know you are making me horny right now Leslie. Let’s finish off our drinks and we can try out the bed in my suite and I’ll Fuck you silly, girl,” Brent said.

    “Oh yes Daddy, please fuck me? Oh Daddy I just adore being fucked by you and only you, Daddy,” I squealed. 

    We both stripped down completely naked after we chugged down the last of our Alcoholic beverages. Then we jumped under the cool, satin sheets. Our arms went around each other and we engaged in a succulent, deep, powerful, French Kiss. Brent bit the tips of my tit nipples and I squealed and shivered with delight.

    I grabbed a hold of Brent’s hardening cock. My state of arousal as well as my climaxes, had become increasingly more emotional and introspective, ever since I’d begun Estrogen treatment. As I no longer was able to obtain or maintain an erection, my stimulation came from within me. My tummy would flutter, cool chills would climb up and down my spine, and I’d feel a sense of warmth where my bosom had now began to grow.

    The inner walls of my anus would seem to tingle, and my prostate had now become a sort of “Love Button” for me. At this stage, Brent had begun to take me rectally in varying positions. There were times where I sat on his lap, facing him. While he’d screw me, we’d kiss and I’d coo uncontrollably. 

    At other times I’d position myself upon his lap, with my back to him. Then, he’d bite my neck and ear lobes, and he’d squeeze my tits, as he’d bounce me up and down upon his cock. I’d scream girlishly and anxiously for my sexual release, as my buttocks would clench and snap open and shut upon his large penis.

    Of course, he’d frequently take me from behind, with me on “All-Fours” or “Doggie-Style.” On those occasions he’d tease me unmercifully about being his “Pink, Sissy French Poodle, Fifi.” As I’d finally reach an orgasm, he’d insist, that I “Yap and Yip,” just like a Little Sissy Doggie, as my tiny “Sissy-Clit” would dribble a white, creamy fluid down my freshly waxed legs.

    However, Brent’s favorite position was fucking me, while I was on my back, with my legs lifted into the air, and pushed back against my shoulders, “Just like a woman is supposed to be fucked,” he would say. I’d be gasping desperately, and frantically begging him to “Fuck me harder.” As his large cock went in and out of my asshole, tapping my prostate on occasion, and driving me completely out of my oversexed mind. 

    Upon that late afternoon and into the early evening, of our arrival in Maui, that was the way in which Brent made love to me. With my pretty legs, lifted into the air, and me smiling adoringly at him. As he flagrantly screwed me to the mattress. What an amazing man and lover Brent was and still is. 

    When he was at last “finished” with me, and his cum was dribbling from my rectum, I was a drooling, dithering mess. Later that evening, as I was blissfully sated, I did manage to make an adequate, light repast for both of us, prior to us taking a welcome shower together. 

    The shampoo, soaps, and conditioner flowed down the shower drain. The comforting, warm water cascaded from the shower head. Brent placed his hands upon my slender, feminine, sloping shoulders. He slowly pushed me to my knees. Then, while kneeling, I took his erect cock into my waiting, hungry mouth.

    As he pushed his penis through my puckered lips, the cleansing water from the shower poured over my shampooed tresses, as well as the rest of my lithe, svelte, girlish body. As I sucked greedily at his penis, I became ecstatic. HIs ejaculate filled my throat. If any cum dribbled from my mouth, I must have missed it. Or the shower stream washed it down the drain. 

    Once I was dried off, powdered, and coated in lotions and moisturizers, I snuggled peacefully against this virile man. The Hawaiian moonlight fluttered through the drapes. It didn’t seem to mater to me, whether I was his Girl, his Woman, his Sissy or his Whore. All that mattered was that I was Brent’s and that he owned me. 

    He owned me as he’d own a slave girl. When the morning sunlight burst into our cottage, I was ready to spend yet another day by this man’s side, doing whatever he might desire of me. I wore a fluffy, powder blue robe and heels as I prepared breakfast. I found it difficult to wear anything upon my feet, other than high heels by then. 

    After breakfast and the cleanup, Brent told me he wanted to inspect my body prior to me dressing for an early morning at the Resort’s Private Beach. I stood at attention, naked, except for my high heels, as he scrutinized my effeminate body. Smiling he said, “Your tits are growing nicely, Princess. Are they a A-Cup already? What size tits would you actually like to have?”

    “I’m not exactly certain Master. Possibly a C-cup?” I estimated. 

    He inspected me further, running his fingers thru my hair, taking his hands and running them along, my slender, feminine arms. My body was now void of any discernible muscle, due to the effects of the Estrogen treatments. He felt my now rounded hips and ass, along with my thighs.

    After examining my thighs, he inserted two fingers into my rectum. Then he carefully fondled my genitalia. Looking into my eyes as he fingered my tiny penis and balls, he asked, “These are virtually useless right about now, aren’t they? Have you thought of having your testicles removed Leslie? They really have no purpose now do they?”

    “Once those are gone you should keep your penis and the empty ball sac, to one day help form your surgically constructed vagina though. When we return to ‘Frisco in two weeks, you should contact your GYN about seeing a surgeon to enlarge your breasts as well as snip off your balls. You’ll feel much better when those are gone, I’m certain,” Brent stated.

    “Yes Master. As you wish Sir. I’ll have that done,” I subserviently agreed. 

    Dressing for the beach, I could see, I’d still be playing the Sissy role. I initially slipped into a hot-pink, ladies, water-polo suit. Emblazoned across the front, in three-tiered, red lettering were the words, “I’m Just a Silly Girly Girl.” I put on a pair of matching hot-pink open-toed sandals with an elevated wedge heel. 

    Over my water-polo suit I wore a white, crocheted, beach wrap, with a belted tie at the waist. I did my hair up into the very same, heavily jelled, sleek ‘Updo’ with a top knot, that I’d worn on the flight. I wore heavy makeup, including wet-look plum lipstick, thick eyeliner and smoky dark eye-shadow. 

    It was far more makeup than any real female would ever wear to the beach. With a taupe over the shoulder beach bag, filled with makeup and Vitamin E Aloe Vera oil, I set off behind Brent to the beachfront. It was quite early so the beach had very few people on it just yet. Brent had a cart with our blanket, towels and one chaise lounge.

    The cart also contained an umbrella and cooler. Brent would be laying on the chaise lounge and I would be laying beside him on the blanket. Once we were situated, I made a cool drink for each of us. After taking a sip, I set my drink upon the cooler and removed the Vitamin E Aloe Vera Gel from my beach bag. 

    After putting on a pair of large, oversized, pink-lensed sunglasses, and a wide-brimmed straw hat, I began to massage the Aloe Vera Gel into Brent’s scalp. I loved caring for and doting on Brent. I adored it when he came into the salon and had me cut his hair.

    And it was no different that day at the beach, as I oiled his body with gel, in order to protect his skin from the sun. I coated his body everywhere and paid very special attention to his thighs, groin and crotch. As I worked the oil into those areas, I cooed to him sexily. 

    I knew he was aroused and I didn’t care if anyone else was watching. This was what Brent had told me he wanted me to do. As I whispered to him sexily, I said, “Oh Brent darling, I can feel your fucking big cock getting so huge. Should I masturbate you right here and now thru your swim trunks or should I wait to suck this big hunk of man meat in the shower back at our little love nest?”

    “Hmm? Let’s get some sun and then we’ll go back and shower. While we are in the shower I’ll fuck your sissy ass until you faint. How about that, Sugar?” Brent asked.

    “Oh darling, that would be just so lovely if you would do that,” I gasped.

    And indeed, my hunk of a man did just that. With jets of water streaming from the adjusted shower nozzle, and pulsing all over my body, Brent pushed me against the side of the shower stall and reamed my Sissy-Boy-Pussy. And I did, nearly swoon, like a buggered schoolgirl. It was that evening though, that was so very, very, special.

    Brent decided to take me to the Resort’s Country Club for dining, drinks and dancing. It wasn’t as if, there was a sign that read, “No Sissies Allowed,” or anything such as that. It was just that for that evening, and much of the rest of the vacation, he wanted an elegant, refined female, hanging on his arm, as well as an adoring escort, hanging coquettishly upon his every word.

    I was Brent’s Eye-Candy. I was his Trophy-Girl. Brent even helped me tighten my waist cinch extra snugly, so that I’d have the maximum cleavage possible. My breasts did show very well, thru the clinging, red midi-gown with the plunging neckline, that I wore. I tottered upon black, four-inch heels. And my inverted Bob had been blown out extra-sleekly, to it’s maximum sheen and length.

    My eye makeup and lipstick could not have been more radiant. We dined on lobster. We danced the Rhumba and the Tango, and we sipped champagne from flutes. I’d never dreamed I could feel so cultivated  and feminine. And as we climbed into bed early that morning, I worshipfully licked his cock and balls, thankful for that divine evening. I asked out loud, “Please keep me in your harem, my sheik? I can’t possibly live without you.”

Chapter IV: Lisbeth Materializes

    I stared, mesmerized by the photo on my newly issued driver’s license. The person that looked back at me was a lovely, well-turned-out female. I was so glad I’d had the thorough makeover done, prior to renewing my license. I’d even asked the Motor Vehicles Supervisor, a transgender girl such as myself, if I could hold the fingers of my right hand, to the side of my face in the photo.

    She’d laughed and said, “No Lisbeth, I don’t think so. We can’t do that. But your Plum nails, with the pink, French Manicured tips are indeed lovely. And your photo is striking, girl. Please sign right here, Ms. Conte?” 

    And I did. I signed, Lisbeth Renee Conte. The sex designated was Female. I was far enough along in my transition for the GYN to officially write that, in the notarized statement I had provided. I had a perfect set of 36-C cup “Girls.” My testicles were gone. My ball sac and tiny, limp cock were just waiting for the surgeon’s hand to form my new pussy in a few months time. 

    The young woman at the desk, when I’d presented the paperwork, wasn’t certain everything was far enough along for me to be a Female, though. She’d said, “I’ll need to have my supervisor look this over, Ms. Conte.”

    Shortly afterwards, she returned with a stunning, smiling redhead, who sat at the desk and said, “I’ll take care of this customer, Candace. Why don’t you take your lunch break?”

    As Candace agreed, the redhead smiled and said, “My name is Hannah. I’m very familiar with Doctor Tabor and Doctor Grimaldi. Gretchen Grimaldi did my SRS. She’s the very best. You’re going to be in excellent company Lisbeth. Let’s get your renewal completed. Shall we?” 

    Not very long after Brent and I had returned from Maui, Brent had gotten one of his corporate attorneys to begin the paperwork for my legal name change. I’d paid a visit to Jocelyne Tabor and received a referral to Doctor Grimaldi for a Breast Augmentation procedure as well as the removal of my testicles.

    Apparently Gretchen Grimaldi had done several castrations for Sissies, who belonged to women in the Cassandra Sisterhood. Therefore, a request for having my testicles frozen, after removal, wasn’t very unusual. Brent had my frozen, gelded nuts, taken to a jeweler, who specialized in the mounting of castrated balls in various items of jewelry. 

    Mine were crushed into a fine powder and melded with white sapphire after being heated. Then the testes and sapphire combination was mounted into a teardrop shaped earring made of a blue/green Kyanite mixture. The earrings had turned out absolutely lovely. 

    After my two procedures, which were performed together, I was convalescing at home. The breast augmentation was surely the longer of the two, simultaneous recoveries. Brent was an absolute dear. He even hired a nurse to care for me. My T-Girl friend Cynthia, my ex-wife Jasmine and Brent’s ex-wife Celia all dropped in, to check up and commiserate with me.

    Just before Brent had arrived home from work on a Friday, Celia had come by to do my hair, face and nails. She did a wonderful job. I was in a bed-jacket, panties and heels, sitting on the edge of the bed in my boudoir.  I was thinking about making dinner. Though, while I was recovering we had been eating a lot of delivered carry-out. 

    A smiling Brent came to the doorway of my boudoir and said, “Well I have the earrings. Would you like to try them on Beth?”

    He’d taken to calling me Beth, on occasion. As a sort of personal, “Pet” name between him and me. I smiled and said, “Of course darling. I’d love to. Though I know you really don’t want me to wear them again until we have the wedding. Let me see them? Oh my gracious Brent, they are gorgeous.”

    “How lovely. What is the white inset stone and what is the blue green setting?” I asked.

    “The stone is white sapphire. Your severed testicles were crushed along with the sapphire, and then melted together. The backing is blue-green Kyanite,” Brent explained.

    “Oh I see? How very clever. And there’s a market for such jewelry I take it? Doctor Grimaldi didn’t seem at all surprised with my request,” I said as I walked to my vanity and sat down. 

    “Oh yes. A thriving market, especially among the ladies of the Cassandra Sisterhood. Are you trying them on honey?” Brent asked.

    “Oh most definitely. I adore them,” I said, as I inserted the earrings into one set of the three sets of piercing holes I had in each ear lobe.

    “They look just perfect. You know, the blue-green blends nicely with my hazel eyes,” I responded. 

    I tossed my head girlishly from side to side. I let the earrings tickle the sides of my face and neck. They were so very, very pretty. I wished I could keep them on, but I knew Brent really wanted me to walk down the aisle, with Jasmine giving me away, before I wore the earrings again.

    It was so very unusual though? To look at the earrings and to feel and watch them dangling. And then to realize that they contained my sliced off testicles. But I loved them and cherished them. Brent had them made especially for me. And I’d been neutered just for Brent and for our impending marriage and for our future together. 

    I knew that Brent would not propose of course, until, at long last, I had a pussy of my very own. And I knew we both wanted to break in that pussy before we were ever wedded and on our way back to Maui for our honeymoon. So, I took the earrings off and returned them to the box.

    I walked seductively towards Brent. I felt so much more sexy by then. I just knew I was so much more of a female and so much less of a Sissy. I smiled and said, “Here you are darling. The earrings are back in your possession for safekeeping. Until the morning of our nuptials, when you’ll attach them to my ear lobes, of course.”

    “It won’t be that much longer, Lisbeth,” Brent said.

    The name Beth was cute. But I adored it when he called me Lisbeth. I had no misgivings as I checked in for my surgery. I’d already felt as if I were a complete woman for some time, at that juncture. The operation was just a mere formality as far as I was concerned. But, as I came out of the haze and the fog of the anesthesia, I knew I was now very different.

   I also knew that the most important thing I would do during my recovery from SRS was to “Exercise” my new pussy. I had certainly went thru a similar experience when I’d stretched my rectum with dilators, so that I could accommodate a man’s cock in my anus. Pussy Dilators were certainly no different.

    Plus, I now had the added benefit of using Estrogen to soften and lubricate the inside of my new vagina. And, of course, I had my Transgender friend, Cynthia, who was someone that had went thru the same experience, to assist me in my endeavors. 

    Each and every day, I would quench my puss with Estrogen cream and carefully insert a dilator, beginning with the smallest and working my way up to the largest. A nurse came in regularly to check on me. I’d also talk on the phone with Cynthia to tell her of my progress. 

    Then at last, after a matter of time, I not only felt ready to get up and possibly to go out, but I also believed that I was ready to “test out” my new vagina with my boyfriend and lover, Brent. When Brent arrived home on a Friday evening, I knew he’d be surprised to see me not only cooking dinner, but dressed prettily as well as seductively. 

    “Hello darling. How was your day? What would be your pleasure as far as a drink is concerned? I was thinking of some Cherry Brandy, myself,” I said.

    “That sounds perfect. Are you making steamed shrimp?” Brent asked.

    “Yes. With a salad and green beans. Nothing fancy,” I added.

    While we ate, I plied Brent with a few more drinks. Then afterwards,  I served him some coffee as an additional, pick-me-up. I cleaned the kitchen and dining room prior to going back into the den to offer Brent either a foot massage, a neck massage or both.

    “Are you certain you have the energy, Lisbeth?” Brent asked.

    “Yes I do. Or we could skip the massages and just go to bed,” I smiled, with a wink, and a hand on my hip.

    “Really? Are you certain?” Brent asked.

    “Let’s just say that I’m 90-95 percent certain that my new pussy is ready for some action. Let’s go to bed and find out. Regardless of the outcome, there is plenty I can do to make you very happy. I’ve certainly got the energy,” I added.

    When we were finally in bed, Brent kissed and touched me so lovingly. At first he acted as if I were made of fine China and that he thought that I would somehow just break. He really surprised me when he gently touched my puss, with some sterile lubricant on the ends of two of his fingers. Then he asked me, surprising me even more so, “Could I kiss and lick your pussy? Would you enjoy that?”

    “Oh yes please do, you wonderful, wonderful man. Please do kiss and lick my puss. That will soften it up really nicely,” I said. 

    It was so very relaxing, to lay back, with a pillow underneath my head, and have Brent sucking my new pussy. After all, he paid for it. He could do anything he wanted to do with it. Besides. The moisture was good for the eventual softening of it, that we’d need for some nice screwing. 

    We probably wouldn’t be able to go completely crazy, in the way that we really got wild when Brent fucked my ass? But I did think we should be able to get a little bit aggressive? As Brent licked all around the inside, as well as the outside of my brand-new vagina, I felt an unusual stirring within me, which I had never experienced before.

    I began to enter a seemingly fulfilling state that I never knew existed for a girl like me? My upper thighs, my groin, and the folds of my new pussy seemed to quiver. My head lightened and my breathing reposed. I passed into a place of peace and blissfulness. 

    As Brent continued his ministrations, the eroticism went far beyond anything I’d achieved thus far when I’d been probing my puss with the dilators. It was just so very good and I wanted to go beyond it. With my body beginning to need more, I realized I wanted Brent’s cock inside of me.

    “Brent? Brent, my love and my darling man. Please Brent? Let me suck your cock and get it nice and sloppy wet? Please, dear? Then I’ll lubricate us and you can fuck me. My new pussy simply needs to be fucked, my handsome stud,” I whimpered.

    Brent lay beside me and I fondled his cock. Then I knelt next to him and bent over, so that I could take his penis into my mouth. I knew very well by that juncture, how to properly prepare a penis, especially Brent’s penis, to enter me. I’d learned that skill quite well from the numerous occasions where I’d had a cock inserted into my rectum.

    I sucked, slobbered and drooled all over Brent’s massive erection until I was satisfied it was now ready. Then I used the very same lubricant on my pussy and Brent’s cock, which I’d frequently used for anal sex. Then I laid on my back smiling, spread my legs and reached out for my virile man.

    “Come to me my lover. I need you so very badly inside of me that I could beg and scream for you to fuck me. I have dreamed of this magical instant for so very, very long, my love. Let me lubricate you? There now. Slide inside of me. I think I have prepared well for you. Oh goodness that feels even better than I could have ever fantasized,” I moaned as Brent began to slip between the folds of my surgically constructed twat. 

    How phenomenal the feeling was? Oh mercy. He was so big, but it also meant that things were so very nice and tight. I certainly didn’t want to have the sloppy cunt of a cheap hotel room whore, did I? Uncharacteristically enough, Brent didn’t pound away as he did with my anus. A few things were different since I’d crossed over from Sissy to Girl. 

    Brent was still in charge of course. And I’d never, ever, be an equal partner in the relationship. I never wanted that to be the case, ever, to begin with. I thrived on being the Supplicant, the “Bottom,” the “Beta Girl,” the “Sub,” anyway. Brent would always be the Master, the Alpha Male, the “Top” or the Dominant in our life together.

    He knew it. I knew that as well as everyone else. But when I really came out fully as a fluttery, sexy girl, there was a little rough edge that was smoothed between us. He could see me as that pretty femme that I’d always aspired to be, and there was a gentleness to our lovemaking that had never been there before. 

    He still slid his manly cock in and out of me with firmness, assertiveness and the aggressiveness of the strong Alpha oriented man he always had been. It was just that he added a certain tenderness, that would affirm what a meek, dainty, girly, little flower I truly was. 

    As he slid in and out of my new pussy, I matched Brent, stroke for stroke. I was so very ready for this. I’d never been so ready for anything in my life. I felt so alive and vital. I was so full of excitement and expectations. Then, Brent’s cock finally swelled to the maximum proportions of a penis that was about to explode.

     I grabbed both cheeks of his ass, to be certain he did not get away from me. As his large organ pumped ejaculate inside of me, I cried out in girlish joyousness. I was fulfilled at long last. I’d never felt more like being his than at that very moment. As he pumped out his wonderful seed, my cunt gripped his penis hungrily. 

    I wanted his cock inside my mouth, inside my ass and inside my puss all at once. However, I was so thrilled that he’d Cum within my new vagina. I threw my arms around his waist and held him. I kissed him wildly all over his face. I didn’t want this to go away. I called out to him, begging, “Oh Brent. When you pull out, please reach over to your right and get me a Tampon, please darling?”

    “Oh thank you. Yes, please? Yes, I want to put the Tampon into my cunt to keep your hot, gooey sperm inside of me. Oh, that feels so very wonderful darling. Oh Brent. As always you were so wonderfully Masterful,” I said, worshipfully. 

    We spent the evening having a light snack, a few drinks and then I gave Brent a fantastic blow job, even by my Sissy Cocksucker standards. The following morning, as he was ready to leave for the country club golf course, he asked, “Do you feel up to some drinks, dancing and dinner at the country club this evening, Beth?”

    I looked at him wanly, then I smiled and sighed. I knew why he was asking. I knew what he was ultimately up to. A Woman’s Intuition, I guess? It must have happened when the surgeon gave me a pussy? I shrugged. I was still a bit disheveled in a negligee and heels. I was planning on a morning of housework.

    Eventually I would put my hair up in curlers and a scarf, so it would look perfect and polished when he arrived back from the golf course. Then, I took the chance that he’d indulge the “Girl” within me after the evening of great sex, still fresh in his mind. 

    So, I said, “Why not just ask me now Brent? Please? I really want to marry you Brent. It’s nice you want to make it a surprise. But, you don’t have to wine me and dine me to get me to marry you.”

    Then I paused and thought about what I’d just said, and started to walk it back by saying, “Oh goodness. I might as well bare my ass and let you spank me now. I apologize for my abrupt impetuousness darling. I’ve been a bit of a bad little girl, haven’t I Daddy?”

    “No. Not at all. You’re correct,” Brent said, reaching inside of his light jacket and removing a box from the jewelers. He opened the box and produced the diamond. Thankfully, Brent is not a romantic kneeler. I never, ever want to see my husband kneeling. Especially to me. He held the ring out to me.

    “Lisbeth Renee Conte. Would you enjoy it if I asked you to marry me? Would you like to become Mrs. Brent Cormier?” Brent asked.

    “You really don’t leave me any choice. Lisbeth Renee Cormier? I won’t even have to change my initials, will I? Please do put that gorgeous diamond on my beautifully French Manicured ring finger, you savage brute,” I giggled uncontrollably.

    We embraced and kissed. Then I said, “Off to the golf course with you, Mr. Playboy. I have housekeeping to do. I also have to set my hair so I’ll look absolutely stunning for my fiancé when he arrives home. I adore you Brent. I’ll always be yours. I promise,” I added.

    As we prepared for the June wedding, I could see vaguely that things had changed but slightly. No, I wasn’t any longer the shamed, degraded and humiliated sissy that I had been. And truthfully, I would actually miss the sexual excitement that had always come with that. But I’d never kid myself into believing that I wouldn’t always be Brent’s subservient bride.

    When we’d get together with out kinky friends, I was still one of the subservients. I was just was no longer the most subservient. Most of the Betas in our group were females. There were only a few males that were “Subs.” One or two were subservient to women and a few males came with their “Daddy.”

    One evening however a “Mature” Dominatrix came with her young Sissy. They were new to our group. Her Sissy was named “Pinkie” and “She” was just so perfect. “Her” long, bobbed hair was dyed a Lavender shade. Just as all of the Betas, including me, she wore a collar. “Sissy Pinkie” wore ankle socks with tall heels, tight shorts and a crop top.

    She was void of makeup. Sissy’s Alpha Female Mistress was named, Madame Hortense. Hortense asked Brent, “Do you think any of the Beta Girls would like to paint my Sissy’s face, Brent?”

    “I think my Fiancee, Lisbeth would love to. She’s a cosmetologist. Beth, do you get any Sissies into the salon very often?” Brent asked.

    “Only a few, my handsome Master. I find Pinkie so adorable. Could I doll her up? Please my Master?” I asked.

    And so, I got to put makeup all over Pinkie’s face and it was just so much fun having a sissy at our house that was lower in the pecking order than I was. 

    It’s those little things, sometimes. You know?

Chapter V: Denouement 

    As I sashayed thru the ‘Frisco airport, I knew I looked sensational. If I was getting any “Looks,” they were the looks of admiration from the men that were drooling over me. Along with the looks of jealously coming from the women they were with. But those are the things that come from being a hot piece of Eye-Candy, hanging on the arm of the most handsome stud on earth. 

    That’s just the way I feel, of course. Our wedding had been nothing short of phenomenal. I didn’t want the typical fishtail wedding gown. I wanted, a very brief, short, beach-style, A-Line dress, that barely covered my panties. And it came in handy. Brent and I had decided on a Saturday wedding as well as a reception at the country we club we belonged to.

    Now that I was married I could finally say that. “Our” country club. After the reception we went back to the house on Saturday evening. We weren’t about to rush to the airport. In fact we spent Sunday at home, relaxing, screwing and finishing up our packing for our two-week Maui honeymoon. 

    Then, Monday morning, we left for the airport, rested, wound down and refreshed. But, it was the night of the wedding, when we got home from the reception, when Brent put the finishing touches on our wedding vows. We were in my boudoir, ready to undress, when he took me into his arms. 

    He had me face my four poster bed. He grabbed a scarf from the top drawer of my dresser. He tied my wrists tightly. My gosh it felt wonderful as he then tied the scarf high up to the top of one of the rear bedposts. He then pulled down my panties, and reached into my jewelry box for a pinned brooch.

    Pinning my flirty A-Line skirt, up and out of the way, he said, “This is just in case you ever get the crazy idea that you are in any way, more than just my doting, subservient little trophy bride. Which hairbrush is the best one to use to make your ass red and sore?” 

    “Oh my! Are you going to paddle me now? Oh gracious me! Oh how much I really need this. Oh yes, Master. The hardback, antique hairbrush I bought at that thrift store? Yes, that one. Yes, please beat my ass red and raw with that? I really do need to be properly cleansed before you fuck me,” I begged, as I looked pleadingly back over my shoulder. 

    Brent brought the hairbrush down sharply against the cheeks of my ass, one cheek at a time, alternating between the left and the right cheeks. Even though I screamed and sobbed from the abrupt, stinging slaps, it felt so very deliciously delightful. My girlish spirit really needed this sort of purification. 

    By the time Brent had completed my paddling, I was a simpering, dithering, drooling mess. But I felt that I truly had needed this dose of reality. To fully grasp Brent’s place as the Master of our liaison. He laid me upon the bed, and stripped my down to my panties. Then he took off every stitch of clothing he’d worn and climbed into bed.

    With my ass still red and burning, he smothered me with kisses and fingered my puss. I squirmed and wriggled wildly. My goodness this all felt so right. I grabbed his cock and begged him to let me suck it. But he pushed my hand away and began to mount me. Once he entered my wet, dribbling puss, I grabbed the cheeks of his ass and pulled him tightly to me.

    Both of us were sexually excited from the harsh spanking he’d given me. It had set the tone for our marriage as well as our honeymoon. I was still his bitch. I was his hungry, greedy, sex-crazed little bitch. Right now my pleasure was secondary to anything in my mind. I wanted his steaming hot manly seed deep inside of me.

    As I gasped, “Oh fuck me!” Brent ejaculated wildly. It was what I wanted and needed. After an evening of exhausting sex, we spent Sunday, relaxing, completing our packing, and snuggling as we watched a few movies. 

   Early Monday, morning, as I dressed, coiffed and applied my cosmetics for the trip to the airport and the flight to Maui, I did so with great, great care. 

    My uplift brassiere displayed my 36-C “Twin Girls” ever so prominently. I slipped a snug, white bandeau top over my head. It would tightly encase my bra and my adorable tits. Over my ruffled panties, went a just-above-the knee, beige, pencil skirt. Then I stepped into a gorgeous pair of Oscar De La Renta, four-inch, block heeled, closed toe, ankle-strap pumps. My hair, makeup and jewelry came next. 

    I removed the rollers from my tresses, and brushed my dark-brown, Burgundy highlighted hair into a perfect, shoulder length, angled bob. After making certain my ears were adorned with three sets of dangling earrings, I began my cosmetic application. I wanted to look alluring.

    After all. I was a new bride on my honeymoon. If I couldn’t look fabulous for that, when could I possibly look this sensational? Once I was finished, I looked absolutely enchanting right down to my shimmering, plum lipstick. So, as I strutted thru the ‘Frisco terminal, I sincerely thought of myself as the most stunning girl on the planet.

    As we boarded the plane, and arrived near 1st class, I looked up at the stewardess, with a few people in front of us, and I realized it was Heather. Heather. The girl I knew from years prior at Salon Visage. The same Heather that was our stewardess the last time we went to Maui.

    The very same girl that Brent had shamed me in front of, when he’d had me dress as his Sissy Bitch for the trip to Hawaii. I couldn’t believe it? But then again, ‘Frisco to Maui just might be her regular run? As soon as we stood in front of her, and she reached out to Brent for our tickets, she had a look of vague, though puzzling recognition.

    “Welcome to Maui Air and welcome to first class. Tickets please sir? Oh hello again, Mr. Cormier. On your way to Maui once again? And, oh? Ms. Lisbeth Cormier? Newlyweds? Oh how lovely. Well, I’ll be by with something special for you two. And it’s wonderful to see you once again, Ms. Cormier,” Heather added, to my surprise.

    Was she serious? She recognized me, under all the makeup, the dyed hair, and with a womanly bosom? But she did. She came by smiling with a complimentary bottle of Champagne and two small glasses.

    “I’m so happy for both of you. And you, young lady, you look sensational. Lisbeth? I’m still in the area. Here’s my card. Call me please? We’ll get together. Lunch, a movie, the salon? We can just talk about old times and men,” Heather smiled.

    “Heather. I know you’re busy and you need to get back to work. But how did you know? How could you possibly know that it was me?” I asked, incredulously.

    “Well you’re with Brent. But, mostly from your eyes Lisbeth. Your eyes. Honey, you always had the most beautiful, piercing, Hazel eyes girl. You just have gorgeous eyes. Doesn’t she Brent?” Heather asked.

 

The End