The Domineering Mother-In-Law

by Gloria Marshall

 

My fiancée Debi has always been the dominant one in our relationship, so I suppose it shouldn't have come as a surprise that her mother also found it easy to mold me as she pleased. However, I never would have believed the extent to which she succeeded.

One small, embarrassing incident at our wedding reception should have given me a clue of what was to come, but at the time I was oblivious to Sophia's ways. I was refilling my punch glass when Sophia walked by with one of the bridesmaids. "Oh, we were just talking about you," she said lightly. "Now, look at him," she said to the bridesmaid, Linda. "Don't you agree?" Linda blushed a bit and looked away, but Sophia continued, "Wouldn't he look so much nicer in one of the bridesmaid's gowns than in that stiff tuxedo?"

I stared at her and instantly blushed a bright scarlet—I have always been easy to embarrass, and my tendency to blush at the drop of a hat has caused me a lot of teasing in the past. Linda smiled awkwardly and walked on to get a piece of cake, but Sophia paused and whispered (a little loudly, I thought), "Maybe you'd like to try my dress on later, dear."

Sophia walked away, and Linda looked back at me quizzically, and I blushed even more. What made the moment all the more embarrassing was that I had been with Debi and Sophia when they shopped for the attendant's gowns and for Sophia's dress, and Sophia had made a point of asking my opinion and getting the one I preferred: a gorgeous mint green satin tea-length slipgown with a matching Raschael lace overdress.

The idea of wearing a dress—any dress let alone such an elegant one—made me feel uncomfortable. I suddenly had a vivid daydream in which Sophia was zipping me into her dress. It gave me chills. Debi walked up to me at that moment, and I shook myself out of my musings. What had just happened? I asked myself.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but that first night of wedded bliss I found myself dreaming about my new wife's mother. During one especially vivid dream I looked in a mirror and I was Sophia. I woke up ejaculating, much to my chagrin and Debi's distress; I had not performed that well earlier in the evening.

My dreams continued, becoming if anything more elaborate. I was beginning to obsess just a tiny bit, and then came that fateful day when Sophia asked if I would mind house-sitting.

I don't remember the details now, but it made sense at the time—or perhaps I wanted it to. At any rate, that weekend I found myself alone in Sophia's house. After I had been there awhile, I found myself walking upstairs in something approaching a trance. When I got to her room I immediately walked into her large walk-in closet. Her mother-of-the-bride dress was the first thing I saw.

I took it down, carefully removed it from its protective covering, and laid it on her bed.

It all seems a dream now. I vaguely recall tearing off my clothes, and I remember that first moment of letting the heavy satin slipgown slither down my slight, trembling body. I will never forget that feeling. Getting into the lace overdress was more difficult, and when I finally did so I found that I was unable to reach the back zipper. I whimpered slightly in frustration, then gasped as I felt someone pulling the zipper up my back.

I looked in the mirror and saw that it was Sophia. It was the vision I had from the reception! My orgasm was sudden and strong; the zipper caught and tore the soiled dress as I stumbled and fell in a heap on Sophia's bedroom floor.

Sophia was on me in a flash, kissing me and rubbing against me feverishly. I was hard again in a matter of moments, so when she hiked her ruined dress up over my hips my erection popped free. She lifted her skirt and yanked down her hose and panty, then straddled me and lowered herself onto me. She was hot and moist—wet, compared to her daughter—and knew what she was doing. She rode me skillfully, pulling back at just the right time, then plunging ahead with renewed vigor. When I finally came she continued humping me till I was dry, hungrily French kissing me at the same time.

We continued to kiss for a long time, then both of us just lay there, weak as kittens. "I've been waiting in my car, outside," Sophia finally said, startling me out of my reverie. "I just knew you would . . . mm, that you were a, a sissy. . . ." She reached down and fondled me through the lace and satin of her ruined dress, and to my surprise I began to get hard again. Up till then, I had always been a "one-shot-a-night" lover.

"Every time you let me dress you up," Sophia whispered, "you will get sex like that. The more . . . elaborate . . . the outfit, the more elaborate the sex. . . ."

My eyes widened. "Oh, my," I breathed.

She smiled a triumphant smile. It had only just begun.

*****

 

"Tip your head back, dear," Sophia said. She cradled the back of my head in her left hand as she picked up her lip brush in the other. "So pretty," she murmured, as she meticulously outlined my lips with dark rose lipgloss. "Mm, I can't wait to fuck you, my pretty little priss. Can you imagine? Can you imagine what I'll do to you when you're all dressed up like a, like a princess . . ."

I gave a sidelong glance at the gown lying on the bed and shuddered deeply. Oh, yes, she would like that, oh, yes . . . "Oh, yes," I said. "Shhh!" she hissed. "Don't make me muss up your lips." She sat the lip brush down and picked up a fullsize lipstick, which she twisted open. She cradled my head again as I eagerly held my mouth open in a slight pucker as she lavishly applied the creamy lipstick.

She turned my stool to face her triple-mirrored antique dressing table and I gasped aloud. The lipsticking was the final step in my first really thorough makeover. I had grown to adore being lipsticked, but this time I was also the recipient of full, luscious false lashes, elaborate eye makeup including eyeliner and eyebrow pencil, and a full set of faux nails—in addition to the usual foundation, blush, rouge and eyeshadow. The total effect was stunning. Naturally effeminate, I now looked like a '40s movie star, in full femme fetale makeup, with a boyish haircut.

That quickly changed, as Sophia stretched a nylon wig cap over my short blond locks then carefully arranged a pre-styled Victorian-era flame red wig on my head. The masses of ringlets brushed against my cheeks and bare neck, causing me to shiver with delight. I could feel my erection trying to grow inside its tight rubber sheath, but since it was pushed back between my legs it had nowhere to go.

"I'm so glad Debi insists on you shaving your chest," Sophia said, taking a box out of one of her dressing table drawers. Inside were two weighted breast forms. As I watched, mesmerized, she dressed me in a black long-lined bra, slipping the breastforms in before fastening the multiple closures in back. She then helped me into a black padded panty girdle and black pantihose, then stood me in front of the mirror and slipped a full-length black silk satin slip over my head. The heavy fabric slithered down my body as I shuddered again and again.

"Don't faint yet, dear," Sophia said, amused. She was holding the gown up by its shoulders, with its unzipped back toward me. "Oh, it's so beautiful," I said, daintily stepping into it. I nearly moaned with pleasure as my smooth, nylon- and satin-clad legs slid into the velvet floor-length skirt. Sophia pulled the gown up over my padded hips, then guided my long-nailed hands into the long "leg-of-mutton" sleeves.

I shrugged into the shoulders one by one, then waited for my favorite part. Sophia reached down to the bottom of the zipper, carelessly brushing her hand against my bum as she did so, then slowly pulled the long zipper up to my neck. As the form-fitting gown molded itself to my thoroughly feminized body I arched my back and practically purred.

Sophia knelt and slipped high-heeled pumps on my feet, commenting as usual on how lucky we were to wear the same size. The shoes had high heels—four inches at least—and I tottered a bit as I stood in them. They made the dress hang better though. I gazed at my reflection appreciatively. The period gown was a luscious confection of royal purple satin and velvet with a full-length hobbleskirt, short attached train and a princess bodice. It was lavishly trimmed with ribbon and lace.

As I was looking at myself Sophia was busy at her armoire taking out the pieces she had planned on using. After re-seating me at the vanity, she gave me a pair of opera-length ivory satin gloves and had me put them on, being careful not to snag my long nails. She then slipped a large amethyst dinner ring over my right ring finger and clipped oversized oval amethyst and rhinestone earrings onto my ears. Then she stood behind me and draped the matching necklace around my slim throat. It was made of a solid web of large round amethysts and smaller rhinestones, and was absolutely regal. As she clasped it shut, and the necklace settled into place, I once again felt that waking dream feeling.

But the tiara put me over the top. It was a queenly affair made of rhinestones, pearls, and crystal, and when Sophia perched it on my coiffed head I felt utterly divine. She completed my outfit by taking her mink cape out of her closet and laying it over my shoulders, and now I looked at my reflection with mixed emotion. I was so turned on I could barely stand it, but I also felt a twinge of fear.

What will Sophie do to me in bed now? I wondered. Several weeks before she had ravaged me as I wore Debi's bridal gown (in our own bedroom!), riding me for hours until I was sore and spent. But now, with me looking like a, like a princess?—

I turned to see Sophia holding a long, thin, flexible vibrator and a jar of lubricant. My beauty-shop eyes widened as I understood. "Think about this for awhile," she said softly, placing the dildo on her nightstand. "Think about it, and admire your pretty self. I'll be back after I change." With that she waltzed off to the bathroom.

I turned this way and that in front of Sophia's full-antique full-length oval mirror, brushing my begloved hands over my velvet- and fur-covered body and bejeweled neck. Oh, my. The outfit was so beautiful, and sexy, and made me so . . . hot . . .

And then I glanced down at the rubbery dildo lying on the nightstand, and as if in a dream picked it up. I slowly looked up in the mirror again. Did I really want to be fucked? In drag? To be fucked in drag . . . a long, deep shudder ran up and down my spine as the words sunk in, and I realized that it was my fondest desire.

At that moment I heard clipped footsteps, then Sophia strode in and stood in the doorway looking at me, hands on her hips. She was wearing thigh-high black patent leather high-heeled boots, a black patent leather corsolette, and above-elbow black stretch vinyl gloves. She was carrying a short riding crop. She walked lazily toward me, and I realized that my heart was pounding audibly.

She gently took the pencil dildo from my satin-clad hand and held it to my face. She flipped the switch on the side. It hummed softly and began to vibrate. She took my face in the other hand. "Think about what it would feel like," she said, "to have this . . . inside you—"

A door slammed downstairs, and voices could be heard coming up the stairs.

"Oh my God, it's Debi," Sophia hissed. She pushed me toward the closet.

My eyes widened and I quickly minced into the walk-in closet, with Sophia right behind me. We had barely gotten the louvred doors closed before Debi and one of her co-workers, Jake, burst into the room.

"Are you sure—?" he began, but Debi cut him off. "I told you, she's out of town for the weekend. We've got the place to ourselves." With that she wrapped herself around him and the two began to make out and fondle like a couple of teenagers. They quickly tore off each others clothes, and within moments the two were on Sophia's bed. As I stared through the closet slats in morbid fascination, Jake mounted my wife and his surprisingly large, glistening dong slid under her black satin slip as she tucked her feet behind his butt. When I've entered my wife I've slipped in with ease, but he had to work his way into her an inch at a time, every thrust eliciting a small cry from her. When he finally began to hump her in earnest Debi wailed like a cat in heat, and I realized with a start that I was very, very aroused.

At that moment I realized that Sophia was carefully lifting up the back of my long skirt. I stiffened and stood perfectly still as she found the hole in the back of my panty-girdle and slathered lubricant in and around my quivering anus. "Fuck me!" Debi cried, as the tip of the pencil-thin rubber dildo touched my virgin bum. I gasped, and bit my lip trying not to moan, as Sophia gently slid the dildo up my ass.

I tottered in my heels and touched a dainty hand to the regal necklace at my throat, as I watched my pretty wife being roughly fucked by a burly stranger. Mm, it should bother me, I thought to myself, but, but . . . oh, I love being dressed like this and, oh, yes, I do like it in the, in the ass—

Sophia took my hand and placed it around the dildo, then turned me around and began to tenderly kiss me. With one hand she reached down and flicked a switch, and the dildo began to vibrate. I stiffened, holding it in place with both hands as my mother-in-law continued to kiss and fondle me. I closed my eyes when we came up for air, then without warning Sophia spun me around, pushed me with one hand, and I stumbled out of the closet just as my wife's orgasm crested.

Debi's eyes widened, and she began to gasp: "Oh! Ohh! Ohhhh!" but instead of looking at Jake she was staring at me, her sissy of a husband, in full princess regalia. I turned to look back at Sophia, but she was gone—and then I realized that Debi was now looking at her sissy of a husband in full princess regalia from behind, as he was grasping a dildo with both hands and fucking himself in the ass.

I spun around again and saw her shudder again and again as she reached climax, and then I began to shudder myself. "Oh, yes," I breathed, closing my eyes and sliding the dildo in and out of myself. Time seemed to stop.

And then: "Who the fuck are you?" Jake said, suddenly in my face. He spun and stared at Debi. "Is this some sort of kinky thing? I ain't into that kinky shit!" Debi laughed at him. "It's just a boy dressed up like a woman," she said with a slight sneer. is that so kinky?"

Jake grabbed his pants and his shoes and shot out the door. "Not me, man," he kept saying. "Nuh-uh. Not me."

Debi languidly got up from the bed and gave me an amused look. "My," she said. "Aren't we looking . . . fetching today." She walked up to me and gave me a sloppy kiss. "Oh no," she said, with mock concern. "I've mussed up your lipstick. Shall I fix it for you?" She picked up the lipstick from the vanity and took my chin in the other hand. "You're gorgeous," she said, as she touched up my lips. "Mother has outdone herself this time."

I stared at her—she knew? . . . but she went on blithely, "She begged me to marry you, you know. She has such a thing for, you know, pansies. I finally gave in to her—I always do, in the end. I can still run around with other, more manly men, after all—that is all right with you, isn't it?"

"Of course," I said, as the truth dawned on me. "Oh good," Debi said. "Say, has she ever shown you this?" Debi opened a storage chest in the closet and removed a large, penis-shaped dildo with some straps attached to it. I shook my head, then understanding dawned as Debi began to strap it on. "This was the other thing I forgot to mention before the wedding," she said sweetly. "I occasionally have the overwhelming urge to buttfuck someone, and from now on that will usually be you. Lie on your stomach on the bed, please."

I did as she told me, and presently felt her clamber on top of me and awkwardly insert the well-lubricated dildo into my (almost) virgin ass. She then began to fuck me in earnest.

Sophia walked in just then, still in her domina outfit. "Oh, hello Debi . . . say, dear, when you're done with him I'd like to, ah, hump him a bit too." Debi didn't even break her stride. "Of course, Mother," she gasped. "We can take turns."

And they have been taking turns with me, one way or another, ever since.

 

The End

    

   

   

*********************************************
© 2002 by Gloria Marshall. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.