Allowed Out - He Wears Panties!

John is never allowed out of the house unaccompanied. It's not a matter of trust but of control. On those few occasions we do leave the house together I insist, and have done from day one, that he wears a bra and a pair of panties. Nothing special, plain white nylon one's usually, it's the secret knowledge that gives them their power. We are the only two people in the world who know John's secret. He trusts me not to expose and humiliate him, and yet his fear of being exposed makes him wary and very nervous. Ask yourself, is such a man likely to argue with his wife under those circumstances? I think not. Is he likely to run away? Of course not.
Now here's where I admit to being surprised. Making him dress up to go out was a practical measure, one I may even have contemplated even if I'd never feminised John at home. But something every odd happened. I enjoyed having my secretly feminised man at my side. I enjoyed his fear and I enjoyed the way he rarely strays from my side. He's like a frightened child clinging to and hiding behind his mother's skirts. It's exciting, arousing, thrilling.
The minute we get home he quivers with relief as the door is locked behind us. I take him in my arms and John melts willing into my embrace. I kiss him and he's as eager as I am to get his clothes off. I often make love to him in out tiny hallway with John still wearing his white nylon bra and his filmy white hi-waist panties!

A bed-jacket for my husband!

I was actually nervous about giving it to him. Not sure why exactly; I know he'll wear it and I also know he won't enjoy wearing it. He already wears silky-smooth pyjamas (pale blue nylon) and the bed-jacket is a match in as much as it's blue and it's made of soft filmy nylon. It is however, ultra feminine. With a double layer of crisp snow-white lace, tiny pearl buttons and a satin ribbon tie it looks like something a matronly Aunt would receiving guests when laid up in bed ill. 'When would I wear it?' Was his first question. Think about that for a minute. Not much resistance there masculine or otherwise you may think. 'Visitors?' He echoed when I suggested that as a reason. 'Who would visit me in the bedroom?'
'Mummy sometimes pops round on a Sunday -' I answered. 'I'm not exactly comfortable about her seeing you, in bed, in your pyjamas.'
'But you're comfortable about her seeing me in this?' He held the froth of nylon aloft.
'Yes,' I replied softly, 'and of course you'll wear your earrings, the one's Mummy bought you. That will please her and wearing your pretty bed-jacket will please me. That is what you want, isn't it darling - to please me?'
'Yes Dear.' My husband was gazing down, at the lovely lace-decorated bed-jacket. I tried imagining my fingers at his throat, tugging at it's satin ribbon tie, flipping open it's buttons... 'Maybe I should have bought you a negligee instead?'

Happiness is a Dominant Woman: My Epiphany

A husband who surrendered (happily), but as a slave?
Happiness is a Dominant Woman: My Epiphany

Earrings and jewellery...another first step?

My mother bought him a pair of earings! Cruel of her I know but she's known, or suspected, that our relationship is odd. What impressed him was how expensive they were - beautiful pearl earrings with a lustrous shine to them, tiny and barely visible most of the time, until they catch the light - in the evening. I think accepting them gracefully from her was harder that actually wearing them.
I make him wear them in bed as well as in the kitchen. I'm thinking of buying him a pretty bedjacket, pink with a lace collar and a satin ribbon tie.

The Feminization of Men?

I've just read an article entitled The Feminization of Men - www.lewrockwell.com/barnwell/barnwell23.html
It's a kind of complaint I think about the way we women are intent of turning our men into non-men. Quote: "...women want a man who has feminine physical traits, but a combination of feminine and masculine character traits. It is in many ways a contradiction, and the seeking male has to walk a fine line between looking like a sissy and actually being a sissy."
I was irritated at first (I mean it appeared to be aimed in my direction) but to be fair it did explain a lot. Maybe I'm not so different than any other woman out there. Maybe we all want a man we can control, alter, direct and subdue...but do we really want a sissy? Wanting a male wife, or a housemaid type husband is not really the same as wanting a sissy in pigtails...

Role-swapping? Who wears the apron?

I've been surfing. There are one or two sites that indicate (to me at least) the idea that house-husbands are a reality. But not many that suggest the opposite, that women can he 'husbands'. Okay, lots of sites that show dominant females, which only indicates to me that there are sub males out there. But what about women who are natural in the authority. Women who can run a business but feel that a housework is beneath them? Why is it impossible to imagine that a man would happily obey a woman (in the way that women have traditionally obeyed their husbands). The 'good' thing is that few wives will admit to being obedient (whereas fifty years ago they did) and they don't like their men 'instructing' them in front of other people. Maybe wives like me are meant to keep quiet about what my man does and about what I want. Surely that just helps sadistic and bullying wives (how many shelters for battered husbands?). Spousal abuse is real, but it's a joke when a man is the victim. I don't want my man seen as either a victim, a figure of fun or an object of derision simply because I'm unwilling to live like most women. It's no longer 'who wears the trousers? It's 'who is willing to wear the apron?. And if it's not me then it has to be my husband? Does that make him a wife?

I propose to John!

Why marriage, I asked. How would it improve what we already have? We were in bed late at night. John was tired but I wanted to get his proposal out of the way.
You want me to give up my job, he reminded me. Where would that leave me if you met someone else?
Now that's fair comment, any woman would accept that much. I really did want him to stay at home. I'm not a bad person. Seeing him working hard in the kitchen after he's had a hard day at the office fills me with guilt. I earn more than enough to support the two of us. And what's more John hated his job. Marriage would make life easier for him.
But what's in it for me? I already had the best of both worlds already. John's reply surprised and thrilled me. I actually blushed. 'Don't pretend you haven't thought about it,' he said. 'You want me at home full time because you have plans for me.'
Well he was almost right; they weren't actually plans but ideas, outrageous ideas maybe but with John, entirely possible given time. Seeing my interest he pressed home saying, 'look how far we've come already. Be honest, did you expect as much when we first met?'
There was no denying John's point. We'd gone further than I'd ever dreamed of.
'Men change when they get married, I answered. It could be a backward step. Masculinity rears its head.'
He sat up suddenly, a strange expression on his face. 'I got home after seven,' he said, 'I prepared and cooked dinner. I even made a pudding. While you watched television I cleared the table and washed the dishes. I was tired but you need a blouse ironed for tomorrow so I did that and ironed a skirt as well. In a few minutes you'll make love to me if you want to and you won't if you don't. My tiredness won't be a factor. If you don't make love to me tonight you'll use me in the morning even if it means me being late for work. And you lie there talking about my masculinity - please!'
Anger flared inside me, not so much what he'd said but his sarcastic tone. I hate sarcasm and he knows it. When I moved he didn't flinch. He knew I was about to lash out and he didn't flinch. I think that's what saved him. It made me think. I could hit him, and we both knew it was safe for me to do so. I could put him over my lap and demand an apology and my masculine boyfriend wouldn't resist.
My rage evaporated and I lay back feeling exhausted and mentally drained. Maybe you should have waited for me to propose to you, I said. It was a lame joke. But once more he surprised me.
'I always thought you would,' he said, 'I expected you buy me a ring and tell me, tell me we were getting marred.'
The words came out of my mouth without any conscious thought. 'Okay, we will get married, and we will take this further - a lot further. But I don't want a husband. I want a wife. You stop work tomorrow you hear?'

I'm aggressive, John is passive!

Every problem I've had with men was all about my aggression. For years I thought it was all about men, but it was actually all about me. When a man meets a woman they eventually compete for control. And men win; they put their feet up and watch telly, the woman makes the tea. Okay, some men are hen-pecked; they accept bossy behaviour from their wives, but it's rare when you think about it. It's true that strange things happen behind closed doors, but that's usually about sex, not lifestyle. My John was different. Instead of fighting me he sat me down and told me the truth about myself. If I fight you and win, he told me, I'll lose you. If I fight you and lose, you won't have any respect for me. The upshot was that I got my way. If I wanted to stay in, we'd stay in. If I wanted to go out, we'd go out and I'd decide where. If he wanted tea in bed, he got it himself. If I wanted tea in bed, he got it for me.
It worked. It may not have worked in the bedroom but that's where luck comes in. You see John is passive when it comes to intimacy. I'd pretty much sussed him out from the first date. Not only did I ask him for a date; I kissed him before he even thought about making a move himself.
Now I want to make something clear right now; I'm not overly aggressive in the bedroom, I don't get any kind of kick from manhandling my man if you know what I mean. If I end up controlling anyone it's because I'm naturally selfish. I'm good at sex. I've had a lot of experience. Just 'cos I like a man doesn't mean I'll lie back and allow his inexperience to spoil my enjoyment. I'm not alone in this; you only have to watch a decent film to note that 'women on top' is pretty much par for the course these days. And, without going into specifics, positionally-speaking 'women on top' makes a lot of sense. So, to sum up, I make love to John. Not because I'm aggressive. Not because he's scared of me. But because it makes sense in terms of pure enjoyment. You can see though where this leads to, can't you? My man lets me have my own way, I make the decisions, he makes the tea. He lies on his back, stares at the ceiling, and I make love to him! Then to cap it all he accepts not just a slap in the face from time to time - but formal punishment sessions! And that was before marriage!

His life as a wife!

When John asked me to marry him I said no. We'd lived together for several months and to be fair it had worked out better than I'd hoped. He was obedient. He did the housework without any complaint. But...well there is always a but isn't there. I've started hitting him you see, and that is not good. Now I'm not talking abot the occasional slap - I've been that way with men for years - I'm talking 'bend over that chair and take your medicine' kind of thing. It's almost formal and he takes it! Let me explain what happened. We were at my mother's (she's not easy to deal with by the way) and he got into an arguement with her. I went into one of my rages and John didn't even notice until it was too late. When my mother went into the kitchen he saw my face and went white. I was just about to give him the slap of his life when he said, 'not here!'
I'm not sure what happened but to me at least it meant that he was sorry and that he wasn't trying to duck out of his punishment, but he didn't want my mother to see it happen. Ordinarily that wouldn't have stopped me, I'm terrible when I'm angry and just don't care what people think. So why did I go along? Why did I whisper 'later, I promise, later.'
When we got home I was still simmering but not in the usual way, even John knew something was up. He was pale and very frightened. The minute we stepped inside I went for him. And that's when he said, 'no marks Jenny, no marks. Please - I have to go to work tomorrow.'
I hesitated. That's the moment I should have accepted and apology and moved on with my life. Instead I ordered him to bend over the back of the couch. Why did he obey? It was a ludicrous situation. I was wearing a tight dress that came with it's own thin plastic belt. I slipped it from my waist and struck his buttocks....
Later, in bed, I wanted to tell him I was sorry. I would have only John apologised to me! And first thing next morning he rang my mother to tell her how sorry he was....