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.