Forced to cross dress

Here is another of my writings, originally as a script for one of  my website recordings.

Once again this is all based on reality and spiced up just a little to share with the world. For instance I think that the dread that I described that Paul has for cross dressing is laced (pun intended) with a longing to be "forced" to do this.

I hope that you enjoy it.

I know that communication is the most important factor in any relationship, particularly in a marriage and even more so in a Femdomme marriage like ours. It's just so important to talk about your feelings and your likes and dislikes. Its interesting talking with someone though, like my hubby, who has a masochistic streak in their nature. What they like, they kind of don't like, what they hate they love, what they love and hate and its all gets confused and mixed together.

 It's not like that for me of course, as a Domme I know exactly what I want and I simply demand it. That's why I listened very carefully to my subby hubby right at the start of our relationship when he talked about the things, the submissive things, that he likes and where his limits were. One of the things that he told me that he absolutely despises, one of the things that leaves him cold and something that, he said, gives him the creeps about other submissive men is anything around cross dressing. He said that it makes him feel desperately uncomfortable and rather stupid. Which is such a terrible shame, for him. 

Because I remember the very first time that I saw the Rocky Horror Picture Show. When I first saw that show I absolutely loved it. There was one thing particularly that I loved about that musical though. There was something in there that made my knees tingle and made me hot, and still makes me hot when ever I think about it. I bet there are lots of other women out there that know what I am talking about. It's Dr Frank-N-Furter. When I saw Tim Curry doing his thing, well pardon the pun but frankly it made me breathless and I can tell you why. It's because of the fact that Tim Curry looked so masculine. I know that may seem like a strange thing to say. But for me he does. Somehow, for me anyway, his masculinity is simply accentuated because of the feminine clothes that he is wearing. He looks hot! The Basque, the suspenders and stockings on his powerful legs, his strutting in the high heels. It makes my legs go all funny and I love it. I love the heady mix of the masculine with the feminine, which is such a shame, literally, for hubby. 

Of course I do respect some of his limits and I like to give him choice. Also I believe that subtlety is an incredibly powerful tool. So I like to do things gradually, over the course of a few weeks or months. And I have allowed him to be very much a part of this process by giving him choices. So to get him going on the path, which started many years ago now, I would first get him used to wearing panties under his regular clothes during the day. That's not a lot to ask now, is it? Nice pretty pink and yellow panties with little delicate frills. I mean he doesn't have to, but if he chooses not to he won't be coming that month at all, so of course he will comply. After only around 10 days he started to become desensitised to embarrassment of this and his acute uncomfortable feeling started to subside and because he saw that it made me so happy he started to actually enjoy wearing panties for me. Buying the shoes came as a complete surprise to both of us. We were in a shoe shop in London's Carnaby Street, actually shopping for shoes for me. I love taking him with me when I buy shoes and enjoy making him squat or drop down on one knee in front of me in the shop and check for me that the shoes are not too tight on my feet. Anyhow this time there was a guy in the shop who must have been a drag artist or something like that because he was trying on a pair of women's high heeled shoes with a chunky sole. He was walking up and down the shop as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The funny thing was that no one was really taking any notice of him at all and the assistant was treating him as a completely regular customer. The shop was busy and none of the other customers were taking any special notice of him either. Just normal London behavior for a shoe shop in Carnaby Street! 

 I didn't see anything that I liked and so I asked the assistant if she had the same shoes as the one that the guy was trying on in a large size for my husband. Hubby went very quiet and rather pale. I knew how desperately uncomfortable he was and I insisted that he take of his shoes and socks and put on the high heels and walk up and down just as the other man had done. His paleness as he walked up and down the shop changed as the embarrassment of it all made his face go crimson. In reality no one in the shop seemed to take a bit of notice of him and the assistant treated it as just another sale. They fitted him perfectly and I was delighted. I told him that they were gorgeous and that I would take them. As a little thoughtful touch on my part, I told the assistant that, no, we didn't need the box or a bag and made him carry the shoes around by the heel straps for the rest of the day while we shopped. Isn't it amazing how something so mundane can become erotically charged with just a little imagination? 

Watching him do his chores in his new heels was just so hot. I would have him Hoover the lounge while I relaxed, pretending to read or watch TV. In fact I was transfixed! I could not take my eyes off his calves and thighs and how the high heels made his muscles stand out so as he teetered about with the vacuum cleaner. I kept finding bits that he had missed just so I could watch him move around. I had him bring the ironing board into the living room and iron every garment in my wardrobe for me. Of course he was dressed in his panties and heels with his CB securely on while he slaved away at his chores. It was a delight to watch. Adding stockings and a suspender belt to his look was not very difficult seeing as he was already in high heels and panties. And for his birthday I brought him a beautiful black basque, which was hand made and just stunning. Now I had nearly made his transformation complete. Through teasing and denial I can get hubby to agree to just about anything. 

On one of his mid month evening tease sessions I offered him a deal. If he would cheerfully agree to have his legs waxed and his toenails painted red then I would allow him to come. He was not due to come for another two weeks and if he did not agree, because I like to give him choice, he would not be allowed to come for another six weeks and then that would mean when he did eventually get release it would have been two months of tease and more importantly, denial. Of course, he went for the waxing and he came hard as I teased him about what a wonderful sissy he would make and how pretty his hairless legs and red toenails would look in his pretty black stockings as they poked through in his peep toe high heel shoes. 

 So you see with a little effort and time you can achieve lots of amazing things. I still don't think that he exactly longs for me to demand that he puts on his Frank-n-furter outfit on for me and parade around the room or scrub the kitchen floor with a toothbrush while I thrash his ass with my crop. Still he has come to accept the fact that it is something that I enjoy which he has to do. You see from Trannie-a–phobe to strutting Dr Frank-n-furter in a few simple steps. How delightful. I think that he looks stunning in his outfit.