A Wife's Revenge

by Christina Shelly

 

Sandra considered her reflection in the bedroom mirror one more time. Yes: she was finally happy with the look she had so painstakingly created during the last hour. Tonight was her final night alone in the house, and she intended to celebrate with her most exotic and erotic outfit. Amanda's flight was due in at dawn, and she would be home by 8.00am. By the time she returned, the house would be back to normal and Sandra would be carefully packed away in secret boxes hidden in the cellar, leaving only Amanda's house husband, Sam, Sandra's true sex identity.

Sandra knew that if Amanda could see her now, she would be appalled and outraged. Soon after they were married, Sam had confessed his life long transvestism and revealed Sandra to his beautiful wife. At first, Amanda had laughed and jokingly agreed to meet Sandra. But when Sandra had entered the living room on that warm summer evening three months ago, Amanda's expression of contemptuous amusement had changed to shock and then to something else: to a strange, dark jealously. Instead of a man in a dress, some ugly freak to mock, Amanda had found herself confronted by a very convincing and beautiful woman, the result of a lifetime of careful creation.

At first, he had explained his shaven body as the necessity of an exercise regime: fifty lengths of the pool every lunchtime, a commitment that required a sleek, aerodynamic form. Perhaps she had believed him, but when she saw that form sealed in sheer nylon and expensive red silk, she had known the truth. Although he clearly was very fit and possessed the body of a rather feminine athlete, his silken flesh was a fundamental requirement of his passion, not his physical performance.

Sandra looked at her reflection and remembered the anger and sudden understanding that had filled Amanda's beautiful, dark brown eyes. She had been sitting in the living room dressed in a knee length cotton skirt, a semi-transparent white silk blouse, very sheer and expensive black nylon tights, high heeled, black patent leather court shoes and a black velvet choker. Her thick, gleaming black hair had been bound in a tight bun with a diamond clasp, and her blood red lips had moved from a confused smile to a grimace of utter betrayal.

She was nearly forty, but looked less than thirty. He was only just 32. She was eight years his senior and had always been the more mature and dominant partner. And, thanks to her business consultancy, she was independently wealthy. He had trained as a solicitor, but she had never wanted him to work. A bizarre inversion of the usual sexism, but one he had accepted willingly, deeply aroused by her dominance. And it been the exercise of her power over him that had rekindled his deepest, most feminine desires, and thus given him the courage to reveal Sandra.

On that fateful day, she had stood before Amanda in a black mini-dress, silk hose and stiletto heeled mules, his hair hidden beneath an elegant golden blonde wig. Her slender form, always a striking opposite of Amanda's tall, plump body, was brought to feminine life by an expertly padded corselette, revealing full hips and an ample, perfect bosom. Her lips painted peach, her eye shadow a perfect match, her pale blue eyes wide with excitement and desire, she had wiggle minced over to Amanda and performed a dainty, teasing curtsey. But by this time Amanda's smile had faded and large tears had begun to well up in those gorgeous, honey brown eyes.

The next few minutes had been truly awful. She had sobbed her shock and sadness, made it painfully clear that she couldn't live with a "pervert"; that she felt betrayed by him, betrayed and deeply disturbed. He in turn had been devastated by the impact of Sandra on Amanda. His wife was stunned by the sheer conviction and spectacular reality of Sandra; he had crushed his wife, the woman he worshipped, the woman he had sacrificed his life for. Then he had fled from the room in tears, vowing never again to expose Amanda to this helplessly feminine and beautiful side of his personality.

But this hadn't but an end to Sandra - only to her more public outings. Although he had agreed to destroy his feminine attire and the mass of supporting materials that were necessary to create Sandra, Sam couldn't bring himself to wipe out such a fundamental part of his being. So the clothes, the make up, the various intricate accessories had all been carefully hidden away in the cellar, only to re-appear when he was alone and sure he would not be disturbed. And as Amanda spent quite a lot of time away from the house on business, the opportunities for Sandra to come out of the cellar were frequent.

For the last week, Amanda had been in the States, and he had spent much of each day as Sandra. But tomorrow she would return, and tonight was a special last fling, probably for at least the next two months. So she had made a very special effort; and now, as she faced the mirror, she was finally happy that this would be the look for her last night of she-male ultra-femininity.

She was dressed in a very short black silk dress, a sexy tease that barely reached her thighs. Her long, very shapely and silky smooth legs were sealed in sheer black nylon tights. She wore five inch high stiletto-heeled court shoes of gleaming black patent leather. Her slender, boyish figure had been brilliantly and erotically transformed by the jet black cross dresser's corselette, an ingenious mixture of corset, bra and girdle, with ample padding at the hips and bosom that gave her the shape of a sexy, buxom young woman. Over the corselette, she wore a pair of heavily be-frilled white satin panties and a gorgeous, cream silk petticoat.

At the front of the corselette was a small, teasing panel held in place by silver buttons, beneath which was a wall of padding that very comfortably disguised and also provided access to her very stiff and perhaps surprisingly large sex.

Her feminised form was bathed in expensive French perfume. Her naturally feminine face was very carefully made up with a light tan foundation, cherry red lipstick, pale blue eye shadow and a touch of light peach rouge. Around her slender, swan's neck she wore a red velvet choker with an oval emerald centrepiece.

She also wore a jet black, page boy wig that made her look five years younger than her 32 years. Her finger nails (and toe nails) were painted the same cherry red as her soft, full lips, and around each of her slim, girlish wrists was wrapped a pearl and a silver chain bracelet.

She looked absolutely gorgeous and was, as usual, entranced by the power of her reflection, by the staggeringly erotic power of her transformation. No one would ever know that this beautiful young woman was actually a man.

She dragged herself away from the mirror and, contemplating a long, sensual evening alone in the house, an evening of utter envelope in ultra-femininity, opened the bedroom door.

All she saw was a figure, a very tall, dark figure standing directly in front of her. Shock silenced her, and before she could scream, a leather gloved hand covered her mouth. She was pushed backwards. She squealed with blind terror into the glove gag, lost her balance and fell. Yet before she hit the floor, strong, powerful arms had scooped her up and thrown her over broad, even stronger shoulders. She tried to fight, to punch and kick, but her wrists were expertly forced together and held firmly behind her back as she was carried across the room. Then she was flying, for the briefest moment, before crashing onto the soft, very large double bed. But before she could even let out a scream of resistance, his body was directly over her and her arms were pinned to her sides by his legs.

She looked up at a very big, masked man. He was dressed entirely in black, and his mask, also black, revealed only two angry brown eyes filled with a sadistic sexual arousal. The smell of his masculine deodorant clashed with her own delicate perfume and tears of fear began to trickle from her pretty blue eyes.

Then one of his gloved hands rose up. He was going to hit her! She screamed, but the scream was almost immediately stifled as something very soft and large was forced deep into her mouth. Then he sat up, grabbed her body and quickly turned her onto her stomach. Her arms were pulled behind her back and she felt soft cording wrapped tightly around her wrists. She was being tied up!

She squealed into the gag and he laughed.

'Keep quiet, sissy, or there'll be trouble.'

A deep, vaguely foreign voice; a mean, unforgiving yet also sophisticated voice. As he secured the cord binding her wrists very tightly, she moaned with pain and a deep, deep terror.

Her wrists secure, he then used more cording to lash her elbows together, again very tightly, the knot producing a squeal of pain, shock and blind fear. Now he was moving over her body, and his hands were at her legs. Within what seemed like a few seconds, Sandra's nylon sheathed ankles were also very tightly roped together. And within a few more seconds, so were her knees. This terrible man was obviously a true rope expert - he had bound women before!

Then he turned Sandra onto her back. She tried to spit the gag out but her eyes widened with a renewed horror as he revealed a very thick roll of silver masking tape. She squealed angrily and he laughed even louder. He tore off a long strip of the wide, thick tape from the roll and then forced it over her mouth, pressing it firmly and painfully against her lips with a leather gloved palm. Her eyes widened and met his. There was a terribly perverse need in this man's eyes, a sexual hunger that filled her with a deep dread.

'There, much better,' he whispered, pulling himself up off her bound form and then off the bed.

She was utterly helpless and terrified. She fought back more tears and heard her heart pound with a desperate panic against her chest.

She tried to keep her eyes on him, to prepare herself for any assault. But all he did was draw up the dressing table seat to the edge of the bed and lower his substantial form onto it.

'You really are quite stunning,' he said, the look in his eyes now one of admiring desire. 'Mandy was right about that.'

At first she couldn't believe what she was hearing: mention of Amanda's name came as an even greater shock than this awful, terrifying intrusion. She squealed an angry question into the fat, inescapable gag, her eyes widening with incomprehension.

'Yes, Mandy…your wife. She's had me watching you all week; watching her sissy husband transform himself into a pretty girl. She's known you've been betraying her for quite a while. Despite telling you to destroy all traces of Sandra, you continue to dress up every time she leaves the house. And that is very naughty. And naughty girls need to be properly punished.'

She cried into the soft, scented gag; her lips stretched uselessly against the thick adhesive tape holding them so tightly together. The cording cut into her wrists as she fought its relentless and wicked caress.

'I've got plans for you, Sandra. Big and very kinky plans,' the masked figure continued. 'Amanda's decided that if you can't stop being a she-male, she'll make sure that you understand what it really means to be a helpless sissy. And your education, which will be long and no doubt very painful, begins this evening. And I, my pretty little petal, am to be your teacher.'

He rose up from the chair and stood over the bed. He was at least six foot four. A muscular, sleek giant. She felt utterly helpless and, to her amazement, aroused. Suddenly, through the sheet of icy fear covering her heart, a warming eroticism had emerged. Whatever Amanda had planned for her, she was now certain it was not as bad as Sandra had initially imagined. But perhaps that was just another foolish mistake.

He leant forward and in one rough gesture hauled up the short skirt of her dress to reveal her pretty, sexy silk panties. A gasp of pleasure escaped his lips and then he yanked the panties down to her tightly bound knees. A look of evil curiosity filled his eyes and she moaned helplessly into the gag.

'A pair of Mandy's panties,' he whispered, his voice hoarse with twisted desire.

At first she had no idea what he was talking about. Then she realised: the soft, but substantial gag filling her mouth and held so tightly in place by the thick tape was a pair of her wife's panties!

He lowered his body over her prone, tethered form and looked at the button panel covering the crotch section of the beautiful cross dresser's corselette. He then slipped a gloved finger under the panel and gently loosened one of the buttons. A grunt of amused satisfaction escaped his masked mouth. Poor Sandra whimpered with renewed fear, her wide, beautiful eyes watching him with a strange mixture of excitement and terror. What was he up to? More importantly, what was Amanda up to!?

Slowly, even teasingly, the intruder unbuttoned the panel that gave access to Sandra's greatest secret. But if, as seemed to be the case, this man knew all about Sandra's true identity, then what lay in store for him was no secret. This made his arousal all the more…interesting.

He finally pulled back the panel and almost immediately, from the layers of soft padding, Sandra's rock hard sex popped out, a large, one eyed sex snake, whose clear excitement was a terrible confession of Sandra's now ambiguous feelings about her ordeal.

His eyes widened and a small, harsh laugh escaped the mask.

'Very impressive,' he whispered.

Utterly exposed and helpless, poor Sandra could only watch as the intruder then produced a small black sports bag. He placed it on the bed and from inside took what looked like a white toothpaste tube. He placed this close to Sandra's tethered legs and removed his gloves. Sandra immediately noticed that his large, elegant hands were a dark brown and her heart skipped a beat. She was in the hands of a tall, powerful black male!

He retrieved the tube and eased from it onto his right index finger a line of clear gel. Sandra moaned helplessly into the gag and arched her back in manner that actually pushed her aching sex towards his hands. He laughed and leant forward. Then, to her utter astonishment, and helpless delight, he grasped her stiff sex in one large hand and began to smear the gel over its bulging, purple head with the other.

She squealed and bucked with a furious pleasure as he worked the gel into her sex, her eyes stretched wide with sexual arousal and amazement.

'Calm down, princess,' he whispered. 'You really are a wild cat. I'll have to make sure you're tied more elaborately from now on.'

He continued to work the gel into the shaft of her sex. Tears of aching need poured from her pretty sissy eyes. She was now only a few seconds away from coming violently. He seemed to sense this and suddenly released his wicked grasp.

'That should do it,' he said, returning his attention to the bag. As she moaned with a terrible frustration, he produced a pink rubber sheath.

'The first thing you'll lean is the meaning of total restraint. True submission begins with the restraint of the body and the body's desires. As my slave, you will always be aware of the inescapable reality of restraint.'

He then began to slip the sheath over the head of Sandra's sex. The beautiful, helpless and utterly infuriated she-male squealed and wiggled as her captor gently slid the soft rubber sheath down the length of her greased sex. Never had she experienced such sheer physical pleasure. As their eyes met again, she saw his desire for her, the dark pleasure this was bringing him. It was almost, in a weird, terrible way, like they were making love!

Once the sheath was tightly secured over the full length of her boiling, rigid sex, the intruder took three silver rings from the bag. Sandra watch - fascinated and appalled - as he teasingly demonstrated how each ring clicked open and shut. He placed two of the rings down on the bed, keeping the largest to hold over her face like a talisman of doom.

'Cock rings,' he whispered. 'A potent weapon in my arsenal of control, sweetness. From now on, you will wear them at all times, except, of course, when I require your sex for my own pleasure.'

Then he grasped her testicles and she screamed with shock and outrage into the fat panty gag. Holding the two delicate balls of flesh in one hand, he quickly snapped the ring into position around the full circumference of her scrotum. The tightness of this restraint was felt immediately, and the pressure applied caused her balls to bulge angrily. Then he applied the two other rings – one to the base of her sex and one to the space beneath its bulging, rubberised head. Both were also very tight.

'The rings make ejaculation utterly impossible,' the intruder said. 'You can be stiff, but never stiff enough to come. The rings therefore ensure excitement, but never completion. Your frustration will be severe, my love, but frustration is an essential part of the lesson of restraint.'

Poor Sandra looked down at her imprisoned sex and moaned fearfully. She then stared at her captor and felt an awful masochistic pleasure. Even as he had bound her and restrained her sex, even as he had used overwhelming physical force, there had been the most bizarre and paradoxical gentleness. He wanted her in this way. He wanted her bound, gagged and restrained. And he wanted her as what she was – as a she-male. His desire was quite overwhelming, and for a moment she thought she might lose consciousness.

But then he returned to the bag and her nightmares returned, for now he held a knife, a viscous, gleaming, silver bladed hunting knife.

She squealed with renewed terror and he laughed another cruel, unforgiving laugh. He squatted over her and grasped the hem of her lovely mini-dress. Then he began to cut the dress from her body.

'You won't be needing this, my pretty,' he whispered. 'This is a big girl's dress. You're not a big girl, Sandra; you're a sissy. Sissy Sandie. And sissies have very special and pretty costumes all of their own. I've a whole wardrobe waiting for you at my house.'

Eventually the dress was in shreds and discarded on the floor. He also cut the panties and the petticoat free, leaving her in just the sexy cross dresser's corselette and the lovely sheer tights.

He placed the knife on the bed and began to stroke her long, nylon sheathed legs, paying special attention to her inner thighs. She moaned with pleasure and tried to understand what was happening to her. This man appeared to be working with Amanda. He had watched her, and now he had come for her. He seemed an educated man, yet foreign; his accent, she now realised, was African. He had spoken of his house: not only was she to be bound, gagged, stripped and restrained - she was to be kidnapped! And the thought, to her amazement, filled her with a terrible sexual arousal.

'You were expensive, Sandie,' he said, continuing to caress her legs. 'But you're worth every penny. I have very specialised tastes, and you really are the most appropriate means for their satisfaction.'

So now she knew: she had been sold into sex slavery by Amanda! This was her wife's cruel revenge. She squealed into the panty gag and shook her head, a not very convincing attempt to demonstrate her horror, her terror.

'Yes,' he said, 'you make a very convincing damsel in distress. Bound, gagged and tormented. It'll be a real pleasure training you to be my maid and sex slave.'

His hands returned to her rubber and metal imprisoned sex. He delicately slipped it back into the corselette and rebuttoned the panel.

'But before pleasure, there must be education. Now, to remind you that I'm your master, you will be spanked. Then you will be prepared for the journey to my home. We will leave as soon as Amanda returns and I have paid her. You will spend the night suitably packaged and secured.'

She looked at him with fear and desire, with amazement and need. She whimpered girlishly into her gag and her heart pounded with a terrible sissy ambivalence. As his powerful hands gripped her body and turned her back onto her stomach, as he pulled her down the bed and then over his firm, broad thighs, her sex fought its restraint with a brutal hunger. Yet the only response was a tightening of the rings and a severe discomfort. Her eyes watered with pain, and she knew this was only the beginning.

Once he had her tightly tethered form held firmly over his knees, he spent some time stroking her upper thighs, before, very suddenly, administering a hard slap to her bottom. She squealed with shock and pain and he burst out laughing. A hand gripped her tightly tied wrists to hold her in place and then the spanking continued: 12 hard, brutal and totally unforgiving slaps that left her quivering with pain and a deep, inescapably masochistic excitement. Soon her pert, always feminine bottom was wobbling in its hose and corselette prison like a sexy jelly, and the more he spanked her, the more aroused and submissive she became. She felt his obviously large and very hard cock press into her stomach and imagined it inside her. She wondered what it would be like to suck him, and she knew she would find out very soon.

Then she was lifted to her high heeled feet. She was made to stand before him, despite being so intricately and tightly bound. She swayed nervously on the stiletto heels and stared up at his impressively broad chest. He was nearly a foot taller than her, and she felt utterly and deliciously helpless before him.

His eyes caressed her she-male form with a perverse sexual hunger. It was now very clear he was deeply attracted to transvestites, and to this transvestite in particular. Sandra was intensely aroused by such blatant desire.

'You're a fine specimen,' he whispered.

Then he took up the roll of silver tape and pulled out a long strip, but did not tear it free. Instead, he spread it over the tape already covering her lips and ran it around her left cheek and then beneath the black page boy wig. Eventually, he had made a complete circle of Sandra's head, a process he repeated three times, until her entire face beneath her nose was covered in tight silver duct tape. This had the effect of squashing the panty gag even deeper into her mouth and making any sound other than the most pathetic of squeaks impossible.

She looked at him with renewed fear. He laughed and then, to her surprise, quickly pulled the wig from her head.

'I prefer to see your own hair, my little sissy flower.'

He threw the wig onto the bed and took a brush from the dressing table. He then carefully styled Sandra's very short male hair before returning to the dressing table and sorting through Amanda's stocking and tights drawer. He returned with a heavy (50 to 70) denier nylon stocking.

'This will make a suitable hood,' he said, stretching the stocking open and then pulling it down over Sandra's head, covering her face completely.

Suddenly, she was looking out at the world through a mask of thick black nylon. She moaned with fear and twisted pleasure, astonished and so deeply aroused by this man's perverse imagination.

"Can you breathe, my sweet?" he asked, his deep voice filled with genuine concern.

She nodded, her girlish nostrils flaring with a kinky passion.

He then retrieved the roll of duct tape and knelt down by her tightly tethered ankles.

She watched through a scented nylon haze as he began to wrap one long continuous strip of tape around her nylon sheathed legs, starting at her ankles and gradually working his way up past her knees and towards her thighs. When he reached the middle of her thighs, he tore the strip free from the roll and returned to the sports bag. What he then extracted from the bag inspired a moan of true amazement from poor Sandra; for the intruder held a large, pink plastic vibrator before her, a fierce-some sex rocket that filled her sissy heart with a painful sexual arousal.

He held the vibrator before her pretty she-male face and flicked it on. A low-level electrical buzz filled the room. Her eyes widened with a deeply sexualized fear as he then once again knelt down and carefully squeezed the vibrator between her thighs. He then edged it upward so that its buzzing tip was pressed against the gusset of the corselette, just at the point where her buttock cheeks parted. She squealed with an instant and powerful pleasure as the vibrations seemed to soak through the gusset and deep into her anus. As she moaned and wiggled with terrible, bottomless pleasure, he resumed wrapped her legs in the thick duct tape, thus squeezing her thighs tightly together and forcing the vibrator even harder against the gusset.

During the next few minutes, poor beautiful Sandra was expertly mummified in the duct tape, wrapped from her ankles to her neck in the glistening adhesive tape, her arms, tied tightly behind her back, completely disappearing behind the silver layers. And thus she was eventually transformed into a she-male cocoon, out of which her captor intended to create a beautiful sissy slave.

As he stood back to admire his handiwork - his eyes filled with a dark sexual joy - Sandra felt a sense of supreme feminine helplessness. As the vibrator drove her utterly insane with its fiendish teasing, as she moaned and wiggled, as she swayed on her high heels, she experienced a moment of blissful happiness. Her femininity, so severely oppressed by Amanda, was finally being allowed to flourish in this spectacle of ultra-bondage and abduction. She imagined her future with this mysterious man and felt a very deep contentment.

He then stepped forward and picked her up. She moaned with pleasure as he easily carried her over to the built in wardrobe that covered an entire wall of the bedroom.

At the far end of the wardrobe was a slim single compartment. It was just big enough to contain a small, slender human being. Her captor slid back the door to the compartment and then very carefully inserted her insider.

'The batteries in the vibrator will last for at least 8 hours, maybe longer. It's nearly 8.00pm now. I will come for you when Mandy returns. We will be on the road by 9.00am and at my home by mid-day. Then your training can begin in earnest, my sissy darling.'

She looked at him with love and fear. She was to be mummified and entombed for 12 hours!

'Don't worry, my pretty sissy, I will return for you. But tonight you must understand the true nature of restraint and of my power. Enjoy the vibrator, and think of tomorrow, because then we will begin to use special anal plugs to stretch your arse, and thus to prepare you as a receptacle for my own sex. Also, let your mind fill with the sweetest, daintiest baby girl costumes imaginable. I have filled two wardrobes with lovely sissy clothing. And then think of the never ending bondage, the tightest restraint, the total restriction. Think of all of this, and think of your inescapable future.'

She was squealing with desire and terror by the time he slid the wardrobe panel shut and plunged her into absolute darkness. She was yet to see his face, but she already knew she would do anything for him, that she was his willing slave.

She could hardly move a muscle. She was utterly helpless to resist the attention of the vibrator. She shouted her joy into the soft panty gag. Her wife's revenge, to sell her she-male husband into sex slavery, was, strangely, her greatest gift. At last Sandra, so shockingly beautiful to Amanda, was being freed by submersion in the most intricate and perverse of restriction. There was a very long night ahead, and as her sex fought its fiendish restraint and the vibrator buzzed with what seemed to be an ever increasing power, she knew she would love every moment of it. Then, of course, there was tomorrow, and the strange, kinky adventure that lay in the days ahead, days that would see her become the perfect sissy and allow her to find true happiness in her truest identity.

  

  

  

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