Story codes: (As now required by Anna.) (This is the ‘Fine print’).
Bondage story - The Pink Card.
Explicit Sex story - The Pink Card.
Forced Feminization story - The Pink Card.
Forced Intercourse story - The Pink Card.
Intercourse story - The Pink Card.
This story tells of the above-mentioned subjects as well as other very gross and disgusting stuff. It may be offensive to absolutely anyone or everyone. Don't read it! - If you must read it, do so at your own risk.
Characters: Me:{Submissive}, {My wife: Mistress}.
The Pink Card.
We both sit on the bed staring at the envelope. It is Tuesday evening. We usually play these sort of games over the weekends. As it happened this past weekend we had obligations that precluded our normal playtime. As a result we have agreed on this rather unusual mid-week session. Normally on the weekends there is no need for a time limit. For this mid-week session we had agreed that our game would run for up to thirty-six hours, until 6:Am Thursday morning. Tomorrow being a weekday, this truly could get interesting. The envelope lay on the bed between us unopened. We look at each other as slowly my wife reaches down and lifts the envelope. She slides a letter opener under the seal, removes the inner envelope, opens it, and removes the folded white paper from inside. She unfolds the paper to reveal a totally blank 3X5 pink card. Mistress will rule the roost for the next thirty-six hours. I sit submissively transfixed awaiting my orders.
We have a number of rules that govern our play times. For example, one set of rules pertains to clothing. The dominant partner always dictates what the submissive will wear. This happens in one of two ways. The dominant can simply tell the submissive what to wear. This could simply be "Wear anything you want", but usually is somewhat more specific, such as "Wear jeans and a shirt" This usually occurs when the dominant doesn't really care specifically what the submissive wears. Nevertheless, if the dominant doesn't specifically mention an item it may not be assumed and included by the submissive. "Jeans and a shirt", means just that, no underwear! As dominants, we have gotten the habit of saying something like "Wear your normal clothing with your jeans and a shirt". This is still somewhat non-specific, freeing the dominant from listing every individual item while giving the submissive some freedom of choice in areas such as which jeans and shirt as well as the choice of wearing underwear and shoes. It sounds complicated, but you get the general idea.
In other cases, the dominant lays clothing out on the bed for the submissive to wear. Usually great care and planning is associated when this method is used. This method is generally used when the dominant wants the submissive to wear specific items, or to dress in a very specific way. Garments may be stacked, one on top of the other in the order that they are to be donned. They may also be spread one next to the other around the bed in the order to be donned. Obviously, this method takes more room but produces a more dramatic visual effect. The order of the stack is important. If for example, the dominant wants the underwear worn outside, on top of everything, it will be at the bottom of the stack. Another rule regarding clothing is that all fasteners must be secured. This simple sounding rule means all zippers fully zipped, all buttons buttoned, etc. This also includes things like hoods, which must be worn up and tied or secured with any provided fasteners. Not doing so can result in severe consequences. Even something as seemingly minor as an unsecured pocket flap is taken seriously. I know from experience that this rule can be a killer. In some cases, clothing is designed with closures that are meant to be, or are normally worn undone. Such as a sweater with a turtle neck collar with a zipper closure that is normally worn with the zipper drawn only partially closed, and the collar folded down. Our rules specify that the zipper must be fully closed unless the dominant specifficaly states otherwise. Likewise the dominant may want a hood left down. If this is the intent, the dominant must specify it. In any case, the submissive must wear whatever is provided. This must be done according to the dominant's rules, or the standing orders. It goes without saying that no complaints or discussion is allowed.
Mistress proceeded to her closet and returned carrying a cardboard box. "This is for you," she said, placing the closed box on the bed. There is no sequence, so proceed as you see fit. Call me when you are ready. With this she hurried out of the room. I looked in the box with trepidation. I am not a transvestite, or any kind of cross dresser. In the past Mistress has never made me wear women's clothing. In the box I found a dress. Not only was there a dress, it was a full-length gown. There was also a pair of panty hose, women's panties, a bra, and a slip. The whole nine yards. It was clear that Mistress was planning on spending time with a girlfriend this evening, and I would be her. I was just thrilled. Oh yah!
There was no viable alternative. I put on the pantyhose and other underwear followed by the gown. This took some time as I examined the somewhat unfamiliar clothing and determined just how to proceed. Mistress had even provided a pair of shoes. Four inch spiked heals! After I completed dressing I called for Mistress as I had been instructed. Quite some time passed before Mistress returned. She had been rather busy. She now wore a dress herself. Unlike mine, hers was much shorter, ending well above the knee. Her dress also displayed a marvelous, and very sexy cleavage. She had redone her hair, and had applied her makeup. She looked stunning. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I know from experience that when Mistress dresses in fine clothes such as these the clothes themselves seem to make her feel very sexy. "My don't we look cute" was her comment as she entered the room. As I stood there she walked around me thoroughly checking me out, then bent down and lifted my dress checking to see what was underneath.
"Come here and sit on the bed so we can do your makeup" she said. She then reached in the closet and produced a wig. She placed it on my head. The long hair cascaded over my shoulders. She carefully positioned the wig, and then brushed it to her satisfaction. The long hair tickled my cheeks. I felt ridiculous. Next, seemingly out of nowhere she produced foam padding and skillfully used it to fill out my pitifully empty bra. This did help to fill out the gown, which now actually seemed to fit me rather well. I have to confess that somehow the feminine attire with its smooth and silky fabric was having strange effects on my body. For some reason I was really being turned on. Next Mistress started with the makeup. Lipstick, eye shadow, eyeliner, blushers, mascara, all sorts of stuff. She used Powders, liquids, creams, pastes, pencils, and crayons. She smeared it on, brushed it on, sprayed it on, rubbed it on, at one point I think she even used a trowel. I hated wearing make up. I felt so girlish. I had no idea what she was doing to me. As she did this she started crooning about what she was doing, and how beautiful she was going to make me look. This was all done in a sort of baby talk. The humiliation was fierce. I was made to sit quietly on the bed and endure my feminization. Yah, I was really thrilled. I couldn't keep track of all that was done to me. Mostly I just sat and endured whatever Mistress did. After what seemed to be many hours of this torture I was sprayed with perfume. I was then lead to Mistresses full-length mirror to view the results. It must have been a trick mirror, because looking back at me was a not so bad looking woman about my height and build. "My you do look adorable" Mistress said. The gown I wore was unquestionably a stunning one. Had I been attending a wedding or some other formal event I would have undoubtedly admired, perhaps even lusted after any woman wearing it. Nevertheless, I didn't really want to wear it myself. I didn't really want a pair a pair of shoes to go with it either. Under the present circumstances I thought it wise to keep these sentiments to myself.
I was lead downstairs. Mistress had apparently started preparing dinner when she had left me earlier. Normally we eat our meals informally at the kitchen table. The dining room is generally reserved for special occasions when we entertain company, Thanksgiving dinner and that sort of thing. Tonight I was now instructed to set two places in the dining room using the good china and silverware. All through this process from the time we left the bedroom Mistress had been pummeling me with pointers on how to walk, how to stand, how to sit, etc. She really seemed to be determined that I not only look, but act like a woman. Dinner was served by candlelight the food had been carefully prepared and artistically arranged on our plate's gourmet style. Soft music was playing in the background. Mistress produced a chilled bottle of wine served in our best stemware. The last time we ate like this was when we were dating and I was attempting to seduce the woman that is now my wife. Now, here I was dressed as a woman, and totally feminized. Even worse, I was the object of the seduction! I was getting some really mixed signals here. As we ate, Mistress forcefully, but casually pointed out and corrected any non feminine movement or action that I might be so careless to fall into. Mistress wanted to talk. Along with her unceasing stream of commands to correct my lack of femininity, she talked about shopping, dresses, women's shoes, everything that I imagine women talk about when men aren't around. I was forced to join in. If I mentioned something that was not feminine or remotely out of my assigned character I was given a stern look and forced back into my role.
When dinner was eventually finished Mistress instructed "Leave the dishes, the maid will be in tomorrow evening to clean up". We don't have a maid, or any other servants. Then Mistress casually added, "Her uniform is upstairs in the closet". Thus, I had a pretty good idea of my fate for tomorrow evening.
Mistress led me to the living room. She indicated that I should sit on the sofa as she gave me detailed instructions on how to do this in a very feminine and seductive manner. Mistress sat next to me. Picking up the remote she turned on the TV. She had pre-loaded a DVD, which I had not seen before, with a very graphic porno film. Mistress obviously had lovemaking on her mind. I was certainly less than prepared for this. Especially since Mistress insisted that I maintain my character as a woman. She kissed me very passionately and began to fondle my body. I have to admit that I was getting really turned on. Nevertheless, Mistress was stern and demanding while still being passionate. She still insisted that I stay in character, instructing me on how to behave and respond as a woman even in this seemingly bazaar situation. Mistress caressed all of my body, but somehow still managed to treat me as another woman. My manhood was stimulated and soon became rock hard, but it was not released from its entrapment in feminine clothing. This feminine clothing itself was doing something strange to my body. While being totally feminine herself, Mistress had somehow also managed to assume the traditionally Male role, and I found myself totally unprepared to be the pursued and entrapped woman. Eventually I found myself with my head between Mistress's legs. My tongue was buried deeply in Mistress's sex. Mistress had given me detailed instruction on exactly what she wanted, and how to perform these duties. It was not long before Mistress exploded with several orgasms, one following another as I continued without pause, servicing her orally. I had been admonished not to stop until instructed to do so. Eventually Mistress appeared to be spent and she allowed me to stop. My manhood remained entrapped, fully erect in very feminine underwear. Mistress did not allow me a much-needed sexual release of my own.
It was getting late. Mistress led me upstairs to the bedroom. The instruction in feminine walk and movements did not cease. I was lead into the bathroom where my now much smeared makeup was removed. I was instructed to remove my gown and other clothing. Mistress insisted that each item be carefully hung or properly folded before the next could be removed. Somewhat relieved, I began to relax. Tomorrow was a workday. I assumed that I would be released from my feminine training, perhaps until tomorrow evening. No such luck. I was provided a very frilly famine nightgown before we went to bed. The silky material was driving my excited and still unsatisfied manhood wild. I knew that unless Mistress provided it there would be no release for me this evening. Without a doubt, even touching my manhood without Mistresses express permission would end in a very unpleasant experience. It seemed to be many hours before I eventually drifted off to sleep.
It is agreed that our jobs definately come first. It is understood that our games may not interfere with either of our jobs in any way. Nevertheless, it is not against the rules to "Play" while at work. Mistress knows that she may not make me miss, or be late for work, Nor can she require anything that would not allow me to perform my job as I normally would. It should be interesting to see just what she has planned for me for today. Hopefully, I will be lucky, and she will allow me to go to work as normal, and pick up with our gane when I arrive home this evening. Time will tell.
I emerged from the bathroom, having completed my morning routine. I still wore the frilly nightgown. Mistress had carefully laid out my clothing for the day around the bed. I was relieved to find mostly standard fare for a workday. Underpants, undershirt, dress shirt, pants, tie, vest, suit jacket, Sox, and shoes sat on the floor. Nothing really unusual there. A little more formal than I usually wear to work perhaps, but I can manage with this. But what was at the head of the pile. It looked like a pair of tights, and a leotard? What the hell? She knows that I have to go to work today. She wouldn't do this to me, would she? I hesitate for about five seconds, but I knew there were no options.
I pick up the tights from the bed and begin working them over my feet, and up my legs. They fit very snugly, and felt rather strange as they slid onto my body. The panty part fit snugly and made no special allowance for my manhood. Fortunately they stretched and although I was held tightly in place there were no real problems. Next I pick up the leotard. It is short sleeved and has a low neckline. It is a typical leotard and closed crotch between the legs. I step through the neck opening and through the leg holes, pulling the garment up over my body, eventually threading my arms through the sleeves. Again it is snug. It also stretches. Closed between the legs this garment also covers and tightly secures my manhood. The boys sure aren't going to be flopping around today! Next come my normal underwear, Tighty whiteys, and a T-shirt. Then the dress shirt and pants. The pants produce a strange and somehow very sexy sensation as they rub over the tights. I realize that I will have to endure this every time I move throughout the day. I step into the bathroom to put on the tie. Not so bad, the tights and leotard don't seem to be at all visible under my normal clothing. At least I hope they aren't. Finally sox, shoes, vest and Jacket. I'm ready to leave for work. Like a turtle crossing the road, So far, so good!
Throughout the day I have been constantly reminded of my special undergarments. They are not really uncomfortable at all. They are tight, and my regular clothing seems to slip and slide over them producing that very sexy feeling. They feel strange on my body, and seem to keep me in a constant state of arousal. My un-released tensions from last evening don't help. I know that they should not be visible under the rest of my clothing. Nobody in the office should know what I am wearing underneath. Nevertheless I can't shake the feeling that perhaps, somehow everyone knows, or they at least suspect. I'm a nervous wreck inside. I try to maintain a cool exterior appearance for my co-workers. If indeed they know and just aren't saying anything I'm going along with that game.
About 10:Am it hit. Two cups of coffee this morning, and I now can't hold it any longer. I have delayed this as long as possible. Now the need is urgent. I casually stroll into the men's room. I know instantly that standing at the urinal just isn't going to cut it today. I glance around. Thankfully I am the only one in the room. I head for a stall. Everything, and I mean every dammed piece of clothing except for my shoes and sox, has to come off to get these cursed tights down. Jacket, vest, tie, shirt, undershirt all have to be totally removed. I can drop my pants and shorts around my ankles. Then I will be able to slide the leotard down over my shoulders, pulling it down around my thighs. I will then be able to finally drop the tights that so thoroughly imprison my manhood. What if someone comes in? Guys don't often undress in the men's room. Especially during the middle of the day. The stall is small and doesn't provide much room for the necessary activities. There is no place to hang my jacket, vest shirt and tie. If I put them on the floor they will be visible to anyone who might unexpectedly enter. When I finally manage to free myself, the clothing around my legs, and the confinement of the stall pretty much force me to sit. I've been holding it for so long it feels like I pee for an hour and a half. Well, maybe not quite that long, but it sure feels that way. When I finish everything has to be put back on. I do not dare to leave the confines of the tiny stall until this is completed and I am fully dressed. It takes what seems like forever. It feels like three hours have passed before I am back at my desk. Maybe if I don't drink anything I can hold out until I get home this evening. That's still over seven hours away. Clearly Mistress knew this would happen.
Perhaps when I get home this evening Mistress will be busy bossing the maid around and will allow me some freedom. Maybe I'll even be allowed to wear just my regular clothing again. In any case, I do hope the new maid is pretty.
Needless to say I was not able to hold it for the full seven hours. I inevitably learned that if you are denied the right to use the restroom (In one way or another), you have to go all the more urgently. I held out as long as I could. Once again the need became urgent. There was no one in the men's room when I entered. I headed for the stall, and disrobed as quickly as possible. I was sitting in the stall virtually naked. I had just about finished peeing when someone else entered the room. I pulled my pants up over my knees so that the leotard and tights would not be visible under the stall. I figured for sure that whoever it was would use the urinal and leave quickly. No such luck. There were only two stalls so there was little separation between us. I started to panic. I didn't want to draw attention to myself by trying to get dressed with someone else in the next stall. And getting dressed did require a lot of movement in this confined space. I decided to sit and wait it out. What would this guy think I was doing in there all this time, having been there when he entered, and still there when he left? It seemed that he was there forever. What could possibly be taking him so long? Eventually he finished whatever it was that he was doing. Then he spent what seemed a few hours at the sink. Finally he left, and I was once again alone. I dressed as quickly as I could and made it back to my desk without incident. Even from miles away, and without a word Mistress was controlling my life here at the office.
When I arrived home Mistress was awaiting my arrival. She inquired about my day at work. I simply said that it was an uneventful day, and told her about one or two things that came up relative to the job. Giving me a sly and knowing smile Mistress said that she was glad that everything went well. We then went upstairs to the bedroom. She sat on the bed and ordered me to strip. She sat watching the show, obviously interested in seeing that the tights and leotard were still in their proper place. Next I was sent to use the bathroom. When I returned lying on the bed was the expected maids uniform. It started with a silky pair of women's underwear covered with ruffles of lace. Next was a bra, followed by a very short and very low cut black and white French maids dress. Followed by an apron that was about the size of a cocktail napkin. The four inch spike heeleld shoes that I had worn last evening were also there. Mistress watched me dress. Once again she added the wig, and very fully stuffed my bra.
Next Mistress started giving me orders. The dining room is a disgrace, she said as though this were my fault. The laundry needs to be done. The bed sheets need to be changed. Etc. Etc. In reality, this was all stuff that my wife and I would have done together. My wife normaly keeps the house tidy and spotless. Even Mistress couldn't find too much for me to do. Well, if anybody could maybe Mistress would be the one! I was being forced to do all the work by myself as Mistress followed me around giving me pointers on how to do things correctly. Yep, it's always more fun when you do things together. Mistress followed and gave me pointers on the proper way to do laundry as I carried an armload of laundry downstairs and threw it into the washer. Then she followed me into the dining room as I began to clear the dishes from last evening's meal. There ensued a constant stream of pointers on how to wash dishes properly. All the while there was also the constant stream of pointers on how to walk and shake my ass, how to bend and show off my ass, and on and on.
Eventually the laundry was done and folded. The dining room was spotless. The dishes were washed and put away. And the beds were freshly made with clean sheets. Mistress sent me to the bathroom and told to remove my maid's uniform. I knew that it had to be properly hung on a hangar, and the other garments had to be neatly folded. When I was finished I returned to the bedroom, now totally naked. I was quite surprised to see sitting on the bed a pair of underwear. Tighty withies, and a t-shirt. My normal sleeping attire. My wife was lying in bed as naked as I was. She was smiling that special sexy smile of hers.
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