On these occasions, I am bound and blindfolded, and Mistress, administering a suction device, gives me only five minutes to climax. Failure at this results in my being required to wait several weeks before I am so favored again.
Besides my daily duties of housekeeping and cooking, I bathe and dress Mistress, do the grocery shopping (which is still acutely embarrassing because of my being six-one, though I am learning to move as a woman), and must pass her stringent inspection of my makeup, my wig (as soon as my own hair has grown more, I’ll be required to perm and set it myself), nail polish and accessories. I shave my whole body every day, but my facial and pubic hair has been removed through electrolysis. I am also required to wear stockings and garters twenty-four hours a day, and to sleep in a locked leather slave helmet and leash, which denies me sight, sound, movement and speech. I have truly been reduced to insignificance and servitude.
My forced feminization and enslavement began on our vacation last winter. For years, I had secretly donned female attire for the deep sexual arousal it provided me. My first wife, discovering my secret playthings, divorced me because I would not admit my obsession to her. I let her believe that I had been unfaithful, and that she had found the clothing of an illicit lover. When I met my present wife (Mistress), I chanced hinting at “dressing up” as a sexual game. We also played at light bondage, and everything was wonderful.
Then, white vacationing, we were invited to a masquerade party by people we probably would never see again. I convinced my wife that it would be fun if she went as a “pimp,” and I as a “hooker.” We bought all the clothing necessary, and I ended up in a black satin dress, heels, blond wig, and some very sexy, very dainty underwear. She applied my makeup and, when I got a raging erection, promptly taped it up tight to my belly. This merely increased my excitement, but she was extremely businesslike about it. I should have noticed this early warning, but I was feeling too wonderful.
The party was a blast. We won second prize. I got drunk and passed out in our hotel room later. When I woke up the next day, still dressed as the “Happy Hooker,” it took me a few minutes to realize that my wife was gone, as was all our baggage. I also realized that all the hair on my body had been removed during the night, and that I had been undressed and then dressed again. On the bathroom vanity was a note addressed to “Kathy” (my former name was Kevin), and there were two Polaroid photos. As I saw in the pictures, she had brought a man to our room while I was asleep. One photo graphically depicted me, in drag, being butt-fucked, while the other photo showed me, eyes closed, with someone’s cock stuck in my mouth. (Unless I’d been drugged, I can’t understand how this was done without my waking up.)
I was disgusted and terrified. The note told me that if I failed to follow her instructions, similar photos would be sent to many of my friends and associates. She said she had left me a bus ticket to San Diego, some makeup, and a coat (no money or ID). She would meet me at the San Diego terminal the next evening, she said, and she warned me that I had better arrive as “Kathy.”
The next thirty hours were the most terrifying, humiliating, and deliciously erotic that I had ever experienced. My fear of embarrassment during the trip was intensely stimulating.
Well, I did make it to San Diego, and there she was, grinning as I had never seen her grin before. She greeted me as “Kathy” and advised me that, thenceforth, “Kathy” was to be my only name. In the car, she placed a silver collar about my neck (it is still in place). She told me that I was to call her “Mistress.” I would go to my office as “Kathy,” quit my job, retain an attorney to change my name legally from Kevin to Kathy, and sign over my real estate and other assets to her.
It was as if I had been hypnotized! Mesmerized!
Mistress had discarded all my male garments, providing me instead with frilly female clothing. My life as a feminized slave had begun.
We moved to another town, where I am always introduced as my mistress’s sister. She owns me, body and soul.
So far, my life as a slave has been wonderful. I would caution others, however, who are tempted to confess their secret fantasies to their spouses, that the consequences can go far beyond their expectations.—
K.S., Westminster, Calif.
WIFE-SPANKING SPREADS HOUSE TO HOUSE
I’ve seen many letters in your excellent publication about “spanking games” between husband and wife, but I feel my experience is slightly different. A couple of years ago, my wife appeared at breakfast wearing only a flimsy negligee and became rather teasing. I threatened her with a spanking, and she dared me. So, putting her over my knee and wedging her shoulders under the table, I slapped her bare buttocks until she asked to be let up. No sooner had she gotten up than she said she wasn’t at all sorry, so I repeated the treatment, this time with a long-handled clothes brush.
That evening our neighbor, Joan, dropped in after my wife had gone to the cinema. Joan is a smart, attractive blonde and behind her back she held a polished willow stick. She was very friendly and said teasingly that my wife had told her about the spanking after I’d gone to work, and shown her the damage! We had a sherry and I asked why she had brought the stick. She was doe-eyed and said she had wanted a spanking but that her husband would not oblige. She explained that he was very placid and more interested in marine biology than love.
We kissed on the sofa and started petting. She gradually worked herself facedown across my lap, then opened my fly and caressed my penis into a major erection. I slipped down her silk panties and she opened her thighs, so I entered along her lips, and she started pleading for a spanking. She was very moist and with each spank her vagina slipped up and down my penis. From a few gentle starting slaps I progressed to harder and harder blows, which made her sob in ecstasy, till we both came together. After another sherry, she knelt on the end of the sofa, bending over the arm, and asked, begged, for the cane. I gave her twelve quick medium cuts on the same spot and she writhed and sobbed. “Harder, harder!” After six more, as hard as I could apply them, she rose and kissed me all over and, taking the cane, gave me two dozen as hard as she possibly could. Then, with me on my back on the floor, she bestrode me and performed like a veritable Bathsheba.
Pretty well every week after that, for a year, we had our little evenings. “Turn me over and turn me on” is Joan’s motto.—
K.R., Devon, England
BALLING, BONDAGE AND BABY OIL ARE THIS LADY’S FAVORITE THINGS
I’d like to share the wonderful evening my husband and I experienced last night. I was in the bathroom, washing up, when my dear man came in and said, “Get undressed, totally. That’s an order!” He is a military man and used to giving orders, but I’m not used to receiving them. However, I finally decided, “What the hell! It could make the night rather interesting.” I stripped and joined him in the living room, where he’d gone to watch TV. The look on his face was priceless. We had never made a habit of living in the raw except in bed and, as I nestled up to him, he whispered, “I guess I should undress, too.” I quickly agreed.
In no time we were in the bedroom with only the light of two candles to love by. I suggested reading a bit from
Penthouse Letters
(which we recommend as a great incentive for lovemaking), so my husband reached under the bed, but he wasn’t reaching for the magazine. I realized this when I felt my left hand being securely bound with one of the cords we keep fastened to each corner of the bed for just that purpose. Soon all four of my limbs were tied down. I lay spread-eagle, totally at my husband’s mercy. Then he blindfolded me, which heightened my sense of helplessness.
Not knowing what to expect next drove me wild! He began caressing my body with his mouth—my neck, face, breasts, thighs, everywhere but my pussy, where I was aching most to feel him. To my horror, suddenly he got up and left me alone. I don’t think anything can make you feel more vulnerable than to be tied up, blindfolded, naked and horny, and then left alone. When I heard my husband moving around in the adjoining bathroom, I assumed he was looking for his shaving cream and that he intended to shave my pussy, which he loves to do every once in a while. (He says that the little-girl look of a hairless cunt is a real turn-on for him.) However, when he came back, it wasn’t shaving cream he spread on me, but baby oil! He oiled every inch of me from my neck on down. The way my body glistened in the flickering candlelight, my husband said, made me look extra sexy and alluring. I didn’t think the delicious sensation could get any better, but he proved me wrong when he laid his body on top of mine and started fucking me. Usually I am unable to come without direct stimulation of my clit with his tongue, fingers, or a vibrator. But the luscious combination of our oil-slicked bodies sliding together, and the sensation of having that nice hard penis inside me, did the trick. It was wonderful to have such a tremendous orgasm with my lover’s cock filling my cunt.
My message for those who feel, as I used to, that baby oil just creates an oily mess: Try it! The shower together afterwards is a lot of fun, too!—
Name and address withheld
SPANKING SPELLS RELIEF TO HARDWORKING EXEC
I have been reading
Penthouse Letters
for about a year, and the readers’ letters have encouraged me to write this. At one time I thought I was alone in my predilections. I have been married three years now (I am thirty-one) to a woman four years my senior. She is the sexual aggressor and I find this extremely pleasurable. About a year ago I confided to her my most personal sexual desires. Since my boyhood I have always had thoughts and dreams of being spanked by an attractive woman. My wife wasn’t overly surprised because, during our courtship, I had occasionally played some sort of spanking games with her. She gladly agreed to fulfill my desires.
Often now she takes me over her knee after taking down my pants and underwear and, as my penis gets extremely rigid, locks it helplessly between her thighs. While I am in this embarrassing position, she usually lectures or scolds me for being a naughty boy and repeatedly mentions that she is going to give me a good spanking. And let me tell you, the tingling sensation of my bare behind in this vulnerable position is fantastic! She then proceeds to spank me lightly until I ejaculate. After my ejaculation, she keeps me over her lap and lightly rubs my bottom with her open hand in a circular motion that sends chills up my spine.
I am an executive and this little ritual relieves the strains and tensions of a hectic day at the office. It works far, far better than any amount of alcohol could. Sometimes we will play a game while I am being spanked over her lap. If I can hold off from coming until she releases me, we can have sex. Occasionally, if I am tense or keyed up, she will give me both a spanking and then an enema with a rectal syringe, and during the course of one or the other I will ejaculate. The feeling of being on her knee and given a sound going-over is out of this world, coming from a responsive, attractive, big-busted woman.—
C.E., Huntington, N.Y.
HUMILIATED BY SIS AND HER GIRLFRIENDS, HE GETS DRESSED DOWN AND CROSS-DRESSED UP
Recently I began to read your magazine, and I think it is great. My favorite letters are those about female domination. I would like to share an experience of mine that I shall never forget.
I was a freshman in college at the time. When I decided to visit home one Friday night, I arrived to find that my parents were gone for the weekend. But my kid sister, Kathy, was there with four of her friends from high school. They were having a slumber party.
At first the girls were worried that the arrival of Kathy’s older brother would spoil their plans, but I went out and bought some beer, which helped everyone relax and enjoy. After a while, we somehow got to talking about wrestling. I reminded Kathy how angry it had made her when I pinned her down. She retorted that there had been a few times when she had almost beaten me, and that I was not nearly as good at wrestling as I thought.
The situation escalated from there, and I found myself challenged to a wrestling match by all five of the girls. It was agreed that I would wrestle each girl, one at a time, and if I won all five matches the girls would be mine to punish. However, if any of the girls pinned me down, I’d have to submit to their punishment.
What a deal! Just thinking about all that body contact made my cock start to twitch.
The first two girls I wrestled were easy to beat, but the third girl. Colleen, surprised me. As we began to wrestle, she used a quick move to flip me on my back. Before I knew what was happening, Colleen was on top of me, trying to hold my shoulders to the floor. For a few seconds it looked like I would lose, but I finally managed to push her off of me. It took almost ten minutes for me to pin her. One reason why it took so long was that I was afraid she might have another trick to pull on me and so I was extra careful. Also, she was much stronger than she looked.
By this time I was very tired. The fourth girl, Sharon, took advantage of my weariness and quickly had me on the floor. I struggled as hard as I could to keep her from flipping me on my back. I knew if she managed to do that, I would be finished. The other girls were cheering Sharon on, and she was using all her considerable strength in trying to turn me over.
Finally, out of desperation, I stopped resisting Sharon and let her flip me over. Before she managed to pin me down, however, I wrapped my legs around hers and tripped her to the floor. Moving quickly, I sat on Sharon’s chest and pinned her before she realized what was happening.
This left only my sister to beat. If I had not been so tired, I would have had no trouble defeating her, but I barely had enough strength left to stay on my feet. After maneuvering awhile for position, Kathy ducked behind me and twisted one of my arms behind my back. I struggled to escape, but my exhaustion left me too weak to resist any longer. As the other girls applauded, Kathy reached around my waist, unbuckled my belt, opened my jeans, and pulled them to my knees. I felt totally humiliated by my sister, because I had developed an erection from all the physical contact during the wrestling, and it now poked out from my underpants.