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My wife and I have an unusual relationship. Although I am a successful business owner, in charge of a company with many employees, and we live a comfortable life as a result, I am not always comfortable being in charge. It takes a lot to suppress my natural tendencies to be an introvert, and my preference is for a more passive approach to life.
Brandi is very understanding of this conflict within me and has developed some “therapies” to help me cope. Her therapies are mostly sexual in nature, but they also cross into our everyday life at home. Once I arrive home from work, Brandi is in charge and I willingly do whatever she asks or demands. No matter the request, I am compelled to comply. If she asks, no matter the question, I am compelled to answer her truthfully and completely. While I would not lie in the running of my business, there are times in a negotiation where I would not disclose everything to the other party, to gain an advantage in the negotiation. Such behavior never happens in my home life and I will be punished if I ever fail to comply.
We developed our therapy plan early in the relationship when the business was just starting, and I was working long hours to make a go of it. She could see how taxed I was and how irritable I became when discussing simple things like decorating ideas, plans for the weekend or what we should have for dinner. After one particularly crabby retort from me, she stood up and took my hand, leading me to our bedroom. She sat on the bed, yanked my pants down with her right hand, grabbed my goatee with her left and pulled me over her lap. She started spanking my bare ass while scolding me for being such a brat. I was embarrassed, surprised, and strangely submissive. I did not resist. She was relentless in her attack on my ass cheeks and did not stop until I was reddened in both sets of cheeks, and sufficiently humbled by her power. My face was red with shame and my ass red with handprints. I had tears in my eyes, maybe more from the shame than the pain? She told me to stand in the corner and think about what just happened while she fixed dinner. She threw my shorts in the laundry hamper as a subtle way of telling me to stay bare assed. I was hopeful she didn’t notice how hard my cock was. Why was I so thoroughly turned on by what she did, I wondered? Was it the transfer of power or the spanking itself?
She called me down to dinner and we ate mostly in silence, although my ass was burning, and it was difficult to sit still. I still had put on no pants; she had towel on my chair. There was a palpable tension in the air as we both wondered where this was going. She would gently chide me to sit still if I fidgeted too much, but otherwise said extraordinarily little. When the meal was over, she told me to clear the table and wash the dishes. I complied. After washing the dishes, she invited me to sit with her in the living room. I carefully sat down next to her. She showed me a book on Female Led Relationships (FLR) that she had been reading. It explained that men benefit from such relationships by removing pressure to conform to an unrealistic model of masculinity carved for him by society. By feeling free to choose his own path, he opens himself up to who he really is, and he lives a fuller life. It made sense to me in that moment and has made sense to me ever since.
She told me that we were going away that weekend to a conference on FLR, and that I was to follow her every instruction for the whole weekend, no matter what. I agreed with a shrug. It was in Southern California and we live in the Midwest, so we had to fly. I tend to get stressed with air travel and was not my best self bahis firmaları on the trip. Brandi would occasionally give me a stern look if I were rude to a flight attendant or rental counter staff but did not say much. We checked into our high-end hotel suite and I tipped the bellman. Once we were alone, Brandi told me in no uncertain terms that I had been rude and a brute to several of the women we encountered on the trip and that I was to be punished. She instructed me to remove my pants and underwear, bent me over her knee and administered the second sound spanking of my life. I yelped a few times; the slaps were so hard and stinging.
Again, she left me standing in the corner with a bare and reddened ass, and a hard cock. She walked back and forth lecturing me on her expectations and detailing how I had disappointed her with my behavior toward the people we encountered on the trip. She noted that I was especially rude to the women and said that I did not have enough appreciation for how hard it can be for women in the service industry. As a result, she announced, this weekend will be focused on you learning more about what women deal with.
With that said, she led me into the massive bathroom and pushed me into the oversize shower, after pulling my shirt over my head. She stepped in behind me and started the water. She had me put my foot on the bench, handed me a razor and shave gel and told me to shave my legs. I hesitated, but one raised eyebrow was all it took to get me started. I shaved one leg, then the other. She gave me a fresh razor and told me to shave under my arms. She took a second razor and shaved my back and my still sore butt cheeks. She had me bend over so she could shave my hole. She may not have meant it, but her fingers probing and caressing my butt were waking up my cock and I had a huge hardon once again. (Brandi would later laugh at me calling my hardon huge.) She held my hard cock as she lathered and shaved my balls. With some dismay, I watched her continue removing the hair above my cock, leaving a small, feminine-looking landing strip. She told me to shave my chest and stomach. I was now hairless, save a small patch of pubic hair, from the neck down.
“Do your face now,” she commanded. “As much as I might be tempted to drag you around by that stupid goatee all weekend, I want it gone. Now.”
I had agreed to follow all commands, so my face was perfectly clean shaven shortly thereafter.
When we got out of the shower, she had me sit on the bench in the bathroom and she applied makeup to my face. I was definitely not expecting this. Blush, concealer, eyeliner, and eye shadow made me look more feminine than I thought possible, but still clearly a man trying to pass. I dreaded the thought that she would order room service and make me get the meal from the bellhop. She brought me back to the bed where clothes were laid out. Fancy lingerie, stockings, and a short black dress. I thought she would look sexy as hell in them. I especially liked the pink thong made of satin and lace and told her so.
“Good. Put it on.” My face felt flush. I realized she was putting on pants.
“I. Um…” Another raised eyebrow. I tucked myself into the pink thong and continued dressing. The stocking slid up my smooth legs. I connected them to the white garter belt. I pulled on the pink bralette and felt the silk caress my smooth skin. My cock stirred feeling the silken clothing. The dress was also silky and felt super sexy. She helped me strap into a pair of heels and had me practice walking with one foot in front of the other so my hips sway. Once she was satisfied I could manage the heels, she grabbed kaçak iddaa the room key, took me by the hand and we walked out to the elevator. I was horrified. What if someone sees me? What if someone recognizes me? I saw myself in the elevator lobby mirrors and was stunned. I wasn’t passable if you looked even a little closely, but I was sexy nevertheless.
Another couple joined us at the elevator just as it arrived. We stepped on and I could see a look pass between them and I knew that they knew I was a guy in a dress. I was humiliated, even without them saying anything. But I felt my cock trying to escape my pink thong because I was hard. Brandi noticed and handed me a purse to hold in front of my dress.
When we arrived in the lobby, there were hundreds of other couples, all apparently with the FLR convention. We went to the registration table and got our nametags. My name is not one of those that could be a man’s or woman’s name. So here I was, wearing a man’s name on my tag, in a black dress and stockings, with a hint of pink lace showing at my neckline. Brandi just shrugged like it was no big deal and we went into the ballroom. The presentation was on telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth in your relationship. The speaker emphasized that total transparency and honesty is the key to a successful relationship, especially a female led relationship.
Brandi leaned over and whispered, “Yeah, that’s a new rule from now on. In my presence you will answer everything fully, transparently, and honestly. Even if someone asks you what color your panties are. “
After the presentation, there was a cocktail hour, to be followed by dinner. Brandi was talking with several of the women attendees and their husbands were — like I — dutifully nearby and attentive to refilling their drinks. As I brought Brandi a fresh glass of wine, she introduced me to the other women as her “FLR mate.” I greeted them each with a nod, but Brandi told me I should curtsey, so I did. The women all seemed impressed with Brandi’s command over me, especially when she shared that this was our first convention and the very beginning of our FLR.
They started asking questions about our day so far and Brandi would defer to me to answer while reminding me of the commitment to transparency. I shared the story of my transgressions while travelling and that Brandi had spanked me for them and that I was learning about life as a woman this weekend. I did not hold back, describing the shower, shaving, my clothes, the other couple on the elevator. I even admitted to being turned on by both the spanking and the humiliation in the elevator. Several of the women were squealing and laughing, many of them judging me. Their husbands seemed to have bemused smiles on their faces but were holding back any strong reactions they may have been inclined toward.
The same group got a table together and the conversation continued. One of the women was curious how far I would go and if there was a line I would not cross.
“Well, I guess murder or other crimes, but I doubt Brandi would command that.” I meekly replied.
While dessert was served, there were presentations that were decidedly less PG-13 than what had come before. A vendor presented a line of sex toys, stressing that they had all manner and size of strap on cocks available. Next, they had a presentation on the joys of cuckolding your husband, with a very enthusiastic speaker describing in great detail the fabulous orgasms she has with her well-endowed lovers all with her husband’s full support and encouragement. Her husband stood beside her meekly applauding and smiling as she described kaçak bahis his inadequacy — both in terms of size and stamina — as contrasted with her alpha male lover. The women were swooning at the stories and gasping at the pictures shown on the video display boards. Muscular, naked men with large cocks were pictured along with the speaker but the crowd became quite as she lowered her voice and spoke of the best thrill of all — when her husband crawls between her legs and feasts on her creamy pussy and licks it clean after she has been ravaged by her stud.
“OMG, I cannot tell you how satisfying that last orgasm is,” she told the hushed crowd. “Knowing that he watched us and is now willingly serving me by cleaning me and swallowing my lover’s cum makes me proud of what a female led relationship can be. It has brought us closer together.”
Most of the women at the table were squirming and you could smell sex in the air. Wet ass pussies were all over that room and nervous husbands were looking around, scared, slightly excited, bordering on panic. I realized my cock was rock hard. How could this be. Brandi leaned over to say something to me, resting her hand on my lap, and felt my erection which was completely out the top of my thong by now.
“Oh my!” she started. “You got turned on hearing that!”
One of the other wives tuned and looked at us. One woman on the other side of her asked her what she had heard. They whispered and snickered, looking at me as I grew more embarrassed and precum leaked from my cock. Brandi slid her hand under my dress, scooped the precum off my cock with a finger and fed it to me.
“Suck that cum, slut.” She teased. “Pretend my finger is a cock and you need to suck me off since I bought you dinner. Women deal with that entitlement all the time.”
The other guys at the table looked away, to avoid sharing my embarrassment. But the other women were all locked in on us.
One of them kept saying to her friend, “He’s turned on by this. He likes it. Can you believe he likes it?”
It was humiliating and erotic in ways that make no sense to me.
That night in our hotel room, Brandi and I talked about the evening. She was walking around the suite naked in all her glory, firm tits with her magnificent nipples proudly at attention, her full bush a dramatic contrast to my virtually hairless state. I had removed my dress but still had the panties and other undergarments on. I remained hard as we talked, my cock occasionally leaking precum and Brandi feeding it to me, sliding her finger in and out of my lips as if she were fucking my face with it.
I admitted that it turned me on to hear the woman talk about feeding her lover’s cum to her husband and that the submissiveness of that act was a powerful erotic stimulus for me. She told me she loves me and will never leave me but promised we would make that moment happen soon. She pulled my face into her wet pussy and told me to practice eating her as if she’d just fucked a magnificent stud.
I was in heaven. After giving her several orgasms with my mouth, I rose up her body and plunged my hard cock into her. I didn’t last a minute before filling her with blast after blast of cum. The best and hardest cum of my life.
I was panting and she said, “Wow, you really liked this. I knew I would but I’m so glad you do too. Now, eat me one more time, slut.”
I was not nearly as turned on by the idea now that I had cum, but I moved down to her pussy and tentatively licked around her lips. She grabbed the back of my head and smashed it into her pussy and I held on for dear life as she wrapped he legs around my head and fucked my face with her pussy. She gushed cum — mine and hers — into my mouth and screamed in pleasure.
As we lay together savoring the moment, she whispered, “Good night, slut. This is going to be a great lifestyle.”
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