Serving as a hostess at my wife Janet’s bridge party - A submissive's story - literally!

Ok readers, here is a BDSM story submission by Brianna., Emailed to me this morning.

What do we think of it? 

Part One:

HOW did it ever get this far? I’m actually serving as a hostess at my wife Janet’s bridge party ! A hostess, moreover, dressed as a maid, which is what I became six months ago - my own wife’s personal maid !

I should have seen it coming. Even before we were married, Janet said I have unusually large nipples for a man, and started caressing and sucking on them. She did it so much my nipples got sore and distended, but she paid no attention to my complaints and went right on sucking them. Once afterwards I couldn’t resist scooping up some of her spit dripping from my swollen nipples and rubbing it across my nose and lips, licking it with my tongue. She noticed this and chuckled, knowing she now had a new hold over me. In bed she licked my face, sucked my nose and lips together, and even opened my mouth and drooled in it. She also controlled my outbursts of independence out of bed by wetting me in some way from her mouth.

But the day, six months ago, that I came home fired from my job, was the day that changed my life forever ! When I worked up the nerve to tell Janet the news, she just laughed and said it didn’t matter, because with her new promotion she could support herself. She was even considering hiring a maid !

“But I wonder if I can trust you here in the house all day with a pretty maid on hand?”

When I began to protest my loyalty, she broke in suddenly: “I’ve got it ! I can get a maid for free and not have to worry about my husband’s possible infidelities !”

I asked what she meant, but she just took me by the hand into her bedroom and ordered me to strip. I recognized one of our kinky scenes starting, so I went along with her. Then she made me follow her on my hands and knees, to her laundry hamper ! Humming to herself, she reached in and scooped out a pair of lacy pink nylon panties. I remembered buying them for her the previous Christmas.

“These were always really a present for you,” she said, “so now you can wear them.”

“Me wear your panties? No way !” I answered her. I wriggled uncomfortably as she lay the crotch of her panties across my mouth and nose, saying. “No? But I know different. You may leave my dresser alone - you’re not much interested in clean lingerie, are you? - but I remember where I put things, and these panties are not where I put them yesterday.” She began rubbing the crotch across my nostrils and lips. With a shudder I breathed in the heady aroma, as she anointed my cheeks, ears and eyes with her panties, then ordered me to my feet and dressed me in them.

“You may as well know,” she said as she fished a bra out of the hamper and fitted it to me, “that now that I am the breadwinner, I wear the pants around here ! I happen to know your last boss blacklisted you, so it’s stay here as my maid, or out in the streets you go !”

I submitted to being cross-dressed as her maid, only to be further ensnared when her friend Sally jumped out of hiding and began taking polaroids of me in my maid’s outfit, and heavily made up to boot ! Now even the street wasn’t an alternative for me.

For bed she began dressing me as a slut in the laciest, sheerest lingerie. It was always lingerie she had worn that day, and sometimes for a few days, steeped in her personal scents. She made me up like a whore and then went to work on my nipples, sucking them vigorously and rubbing them, tweaking them, even putting little clamps on them. I was always aware of them now, often painfully so !!

Then, one night about three months ago, I awoke to find myself spread-eagled and shackled to the four bedposts. Janet came in a minute later, grinning widely. In one hand she held a hood with some sort of attachment, and in the other two bottles of pills. She put the pills down on the bedside table and slipped the hood over my head, lacing it up in back. She adjusted the front, and suddenly a tube penetrated my mouth and almost pressed on my tongue - any longer and I would have gagged. I saw through my eyeholes that the tube extended about two feet in front of me. Janet was holding the other end, still smiling at me. With the hood over my nose, I was forced to breathe through the tube in my mouth.

“This is a new day for you, Ian,” she said. “Your life takes a different direction from this point on.” With that, she opened both pill bottles and extracted a pill from each. One pill was small and purple, and the other rather larger, round and white. “This little pill is Provera,” she said, “and the larger one is Premarin. They’re what I’ll be giving you every day from now on. You see, your nipples are about as large as I can make them by sucking and torture. The time has come to grow breasts on you. These little pills will do that and more - they’ll grow your hips and fanny too, and they’ll change your skin, make it soft and milky. They’ll make a real girl out of you.”

She placed the Provera in her mouth and presently blew it, with a great deal of spit, through the tube into my mouth. I tried not to swallow it, but Janet plugged the opening of the tube until I did. She then repeated the process with the Premarin, and suddenly I was on my way to boobs !

But except for Sally, no one else yet knew about our Mistress-slave relationship. Not until three weeks ago, when she called me in to her bedroom one morning and said she was giving a card party for some of her female executive friends. “And I expect you to act as both hostess and maid.”

I panicked, but Janet assured me that by now I was so feminine-looking that if I watched my voice and my movements, I should be able to pull it off. “Anyway, I’m having the party and you’re serving at it, and that’s that !” she said with finality in her voice.

What could I do? Just try my best to pass and hope no one noticed I was really a feminized man ! But on the afternoon of the party my hopes were dashed almost immediately when a trim, middle-aged woman congratulated me on my costume and the sultry redhead sitting next to her said it was wonderful how liberated husbands were becoming, that they actually didn’t mind serving their wives and company as maids !

Janet smiled and ordered me to go sit on the redhead’s lap. She was quite a big woman, a regular Amazon, and my much reduced weight didn’t bother her a bit ! “But what have we here?” she exclaimed, and began feeling my shameful secret. For weeks now I knew I had no hope to return to my life as a man, as my nipples swelled and became painfully sensitive, then were raised up by two mounds forming on my chest ! Already my nipples were growing, hardening beneath the redhead’s caresses as she rubbed them through the opening of my see-through bra ! Several voices in the room exclaimed in surprise.

Janet laughed. “All right, Brianna - that’s my husband’s name now, not Ian anymore - I suppose we can’t keep it a secret any longer.” She undid my dress and bra and deftly pulled away the cups in one swoop, as gasps of mirth arose all around me: “Look Ladies ! His

boobies !” she shouted triumphantly, and there was no mistaking the C-cup melons that hung there, capped by huge, milky-looking nipples. And I knew suddenly what every woman in the room was thinking, what was really amusing them: that if I had titties like these, my male equipment must be correspondingly smaller, in fact no bigger than a long clitty ! They knew they were looking at a ruined male, who had been turned into an abject, feminized slave for life !

Click HERE for part two