Dominated
I love it when my wife feminizes me and submits me, tying my feet and hands, and kisses me passionately. She always leaves me helpless and at her mercy, so she can do whatever she wants with me. It is so frustrating and delicious to be subdued like this.
The evening sky outside was a canvas of muted pastels, a gentle whisper of the day's end. Inside, the room was bathed in the warm glow of a solitary lamp, casting shadows that danced playfully along the walls. The aroma of freshly baked cookies filled the air, a comforting scent that seemed to promise a quiet, uneventful night ahead.
With a sigh, I closed the book in my lap and set it aside, my eyes scanning the room. The TV played a sitcom, its laugh track echoing through the apartment. The sound grew distant, though, as my mind began to wander to the drawer in our bedroom. The one filled with secrets that only my wife and I shared.
I could feel the anticipation building, my heart fluttering like a trapped butterfly. It was her night out with the girls, a rare occasion for her to let loose after a grueling work week. She always had a way of making me feel special before she left, a little ritual that sent a thrill down my spine.
My gaze fell on the clock, the ticking a metronome to the rhythm of my racing thoughts. I knew what was coming, and I knew I had no say in the matter. Her footsteps grew louder, echoing through the hallway, and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. The moment of truth was near.
The bedroom door swung open, and there she was, her silhouette outlined by the soft light spilling from the hallway. She stepped into the room, her eyes gleaming with a mischief that sent a shiver down my spine. "Time to get ready," she said, her voice a seductive purr that sent a shiver down my spine. The game had begun.
Her high heels clicked against the wooden floor as she approached, her hips swaying in a deliberate rhythm that made my breath catch in my throat. She was dressed to kill in a naughty outfit that accentuated every curve, her hair cascading down her back in waves of fiery red. "I have something special planned for you tonight," she whispered, a hint of excitement lacing her words.
With a knowing smile, she sailed past me, heading straight for the drawer of secrets. The anticipation was unbearable, my pulse quickening as I heard the rustle of fabric and the clink of metal. When she turned back to face me, she had a collection of lace and satin in her arms, along with a short brown dress, a pair if tan pantyhose, and brown boots that looked as if they were made for a runway model.
Her gaze raked over me, taking in my tentative expression with a wicked smile. "Let's get you dressed," she said, her tone leaving no room for protest. I knew better than to resist. It was part of the thrill, part of the dance we performed. With trembling hands, I stood up, allowing her to peel away my clothes, revealing my nakedness to her hungry eyes. Each piece of feminine attire she placed on me felt like a new layer of vulnerability, a new declaration of her power over me.
As she tightened the corset, I could feel my breathing become more labored, my body conforming to the unyielding embrace of satin and steel. The pantyhose whispered against my skin as she rolled them up. The lace lingerie was the final touch, a delicate prison that left me feeling both exposed and protected.
When she was satisfied with her handiwork, she turned to the dress and wig. The wig's synthetic scent mingling with the sweetness of her perfume. The makeup came next, a masterful stroke of her artistry that transformed my face into something softer, more vulnerable.
Finally, the brown boots. As I stepped into them, she took my hand, steadying me as I balanced precariously on the unfamiliar stilts. The sensation was strange, yet oddly thrilling. "You look absolutely stunning," she murmured, her breath hot against my ear. "Now, let's make sure you can't go anywhere."
With a graceful flourish, she produced a length of rope from behind her back. My wrists were bound together in a neat knot, the rope biting into my skin just enough to remind me of my helplessness. My feet followed, each ankle bound togheter, leaving me in the floor in a tight hogtied. "You're all mine now," she said, her voice a dark promise.
Her kiss was a brand, a seal of ownership that sent a bolt of pleasure through me. It was a kiss that claimed me, a kiss that left no doubt about who was in charge. Finally she put her worn panties in my mouth and sevure them in place with a scarf.
With a sigh, I closed the book in my lap and set it aside, my eyes scanning the room. The TV played a sitcom, its laugh track echoing through the apartment. The sound grew distant, though, as my mind began to wander to the drawer in our bedroom. The one filled with secrets that only my wife and I shared.
I could feel the anticipation building, my heart fluttering like a trapped butterfly. It was her night out with the girls, a rare occasion for her to let loose after a grueling work week. She always had a way of making me feel special before she left, a little ritual that sent a thrill down my spine.
My gaze fell on the clock, the ticking a metronome to the rhythm of my racing thoughts. I knew what was coming, and I knew I had no say in the matter. Her footsteps grew louder, echoing through the hallway, and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. The moment of truth was near.
The bedroom door swung open, and there she was, her silhouette outlined by the soft light spilling from the hallway. She stepped into the room, her eyes gleaming with a mischief that sent a shiver down my spine. "Time to get ready," she said, her voice a seductive purr that sent a shiver down my spine. The game had begun.
Her high heels clicked against the wooden floor as she approached, her hips swaying in a deliberate rhythm that made my breath catch in my throat. She was dressed to kill in a naughty outfit that accentuated every curve, her hair cascading down her back in waves of fiery red. "I have something special planned for you tonight," she whispered, a hint of excitement lacing her words.
With a knowing smile, she sailed past me, heading straight for the drawer of secrets. The anticipation was unbearable, my pulse quickening as I heard the rustle of fabric and the clink of metal. When she turned back to face me, she had a collection of lace and satin in her arms, along with a short brown dress, a pair if tan pantyhose, and brown boots that looked as if they were made for a runway model.
Her gaze raked over me, taking in my tentative expression with a wicked smile. "Let's get you dressed," she said, her tone leaving no room for protest. I knew better than to resist. It was part of the thrill, part of the dance we performed. With trembling hands, I stood up, allowing her to peel away my clothes, revealing my nakedness to her hungry eyes. Each piece of feminine attire she placed on me felt like a new layer of vulnerability, a new declaration of her power over me.
As she tightened the corset, I could feel my breathing become more labored, my body conforming to the unyielding embrace of satin and steel. The pantyhose whispered against my skin as she rolled them up. The lace lingerie was the final touch, a delicate prison that left me feeling both exposed and protected.
When she was satisfied with her handiwork, she turned to the dress and wig. The wig's synthetic scent mingling with the sweetness of her perfume. The makeup came next, a masterful stroke of her artistry that transformed my face into something softer, more vulnerable.
Finally, the brown boots. As I stepped into them, she took my hand, steadying me as I balanced precariously on the unfamiliar stilts. The sensation was strange, yet oddly thrilling. "You look absolutely stunning," she murmured, her breath hot against my ear. "Now, let's make sure you can't go anywhere."
With a graceful flourish, she produced a length of rope from behind her back. My wrists were bound together in a neat knot, the rope biting into my skin just enough to remind me of my helplessness. My feet followed, each ankle bound togheter, leaving me in the floor in a tight hogtied. "You're all mine now," she said, her voice a dark promise.
Her kiss was a brand, a seal of ownership that sent a bolt of pleasure through me. It was a kiss that claimed me, a kiss that left no doubt about who was in charge. Finally she put her worn panties in my mouth and sevure them in place with a scarf.
As she pulled away, she traced a finger along my jawline, her eyes dark with desire. "I'll be back for you," she whispered, and with that, she disappeared into the night, leaving me alone and trembling with anticipation.
