My Wife the Womanizer - Cover

My Wife the Womanizer

by Couture

Copyright© 2002 by Couture

Erotica Sex Story: A wife takes a lover, then decides that she wants to divorce her husband. Instead of losing half of everything, she forcibly changes him into her maid, so she can keep it all.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Ma/Ma   Reluctant   Lesbian   BiSexual   Heterosexual   TransGender   CrossDressing   BDSM   FemaleDom   Spanking   Humiliation   Anal Sex   Sex Toys   Cream Pie   Transformation   .

© 2002

"Come down to the basement honey, I have a surprise waiting for you," my wife said. She looked stunning, dressed in a black merry widow, with stockings and heels to match. I loved it when she wore sexy lingerie, which unfortunately wasn't very often.

I followed her through our very expensive house, but all my attention was focused on her lovely ass swishing back and forth. I was a very lucky man indeed. I had a beautiful wife, who just so happened to be rich, and a house you could get lost in.

She opened the door to the basement. No longer was it full of shelves and old boxes, it was now a fully furnished bedroom. Even though it was only lit by candles, I could tell it was a little effeminate for my tastes. However, she did do it all herself, so I knew better than to complain.

"What do you think of our little den of iniquity?" She waved her hand in a magnanimous gesture.

"It's great." I pressed close to her from behind, rubbing against her satin and lace, but she pulled away.

"Not like that, sweetie." She took my hand and led me over to the bed. "I want to do things a little different tonight." She picked up a blindfold, walked behind me, and tied it over my eyes. Then she undressed me, till I stood naked in front of her. My cock stood proudly at attention.

"I'm going to fuck you so good tonight; you're never going to forget it." She said, pushing me forcefully. I fell backwards and landed on the bed.

She jumped on top of me and guided my cock to her entrance. Then, she pushed herself on me and in on stroke I was fully inside of her. She bounced on top of me, fucking me as she promised. It was strange; she had never behaved like this before. Usually, when we made love, we had our own little ritual.

Normally, she wanted us to lay there next to one another and stroke one other. Next, I would go down on her and then we would move into a sixty-nine. After she came, I would get on top and make love to her until I was spent.

However, this time she was much more aggressive than she had ever been before. I could already feel a surging in my balls. I couldn't last much longer like this. I tried to grab her hips to stop her from riding me as if I were a bucking bronco. "Wait honey," I begged. "I can't last much longer."

She grabbed my wrists and pressed them to the headboard. I heard a click and I found I could no longer move my hands. "It's okay," she gasped. "Cum for me. Cum for me now!" She ground herself on top of me, swiveling her hips back and forth, driving the cum from my balls. It was almost painful as I spent myself inside of her.

"Well, that sure was disappointing," she said.

I was embarrassed and ashamed at my performance. I hadn't lasted longer than three minutes. "I'm sorry honey, it was just that you-"

"What? Now, it's my fault you came too fast."

"No, look, I'm sorry. Just let me go, okay?"

"In a second sweetie. I want to do something first." I felt her weight leave the bed, and then she was placing something over my ankles.

"Lift up for me sweetie. I've got something I want you to wear."

It felt her pulling some sort of tight shorts up my legs. It wasn't until I heard a click that I suspected something was wrong.

"I bet you're really gonna regret not lasting a little longer," she said. Then I felt something cold around my ankle and another click. She was scaring me now. "because that is going to last you for awhile."

I bucked, pulled, and struggled against my bonds and though the white framed bed covered with a canopy looked like it belonged in a small girl's room, it proved to be more than a match for me. I had gone nowhere, and now my wrists and ankle hurt. The worst part was I couldn't even see what was going on.

I heard another click and the crackle of electricity. Suddenly, my body felt like it was hit by a truck, every muscle seized and spasmed. It was a pain unlike any I had ever felt before. When it was over, I couldn't even move. I felt like I needed to puke.

"Are you quite finished now?"

She sounded so polished - so unfazed by this. She had tied me up and tortured me with a stun gun and she sounded like she was asking if I had finished reading the paper. That probably scared me more than anything else.

"Yes." What else could I say? She held all the cards.

"Would you like for me to free your hands?"

"Please."

She took the blindfold off of my eyes and freed my hands from the headboard. I rubbed my sore wrists and looked up at her. She held the stun gun in front of her threateningly.

"Don't you dare look at me so accusingly," she said. "You should be grateful. You should be on your knees thanking me for this."

I looked down to observe my predicament. My ankle was cuffed and attached to a very sturdy looking length of chain and my crotch appeared to be covered by some sort of chastity device.

It was too much to take. "Are you crazy?" I blurted. "You electrocute me and make me your captive and I'm supposed to be thankful. I'm your husband for Christ sakes."

The stun gun crackled with electricity in warning. I took the hint and shut up.

"Yes, thankful," she said in a voice that brooked no argument. "You see honey, I took a lover. Don't look at me that way. You always said you wanted to see me with another woman. Well, I did it and..." She paused and her eyes grew very far away. "I love her and she loves me. However, I didn't know how possessive and protective she was until later. When I told her about you and how you would get half of everything in a divorce; maybe even more, since I cheated on you... with a woman no less. Then, I told her a little white lie about how you beat me and lent me out to your male friends. Well, she wanted to kill you then and there and toss your body in a river somewhere."

"Please Jill, if you ever loved me, just let me live. Let me walk away. I'll never bother you again." By now I was sobbing in fear. I was too young to die. There was still so much I wanted to do.

"Shhh, sweetie, you know I would never kill you. Besides, I could go to prison for that. I bet you wished you signed the prenuptial agreement, but it's too late for that now. Now, stop crying like a little baby, I told her I would take care of you myself."

I was deathly afraid. I'm not going to pretend it was otherwise. I was sobbing like a baby. I thought I was going to die and no one would ever see me again. She slapped me on my face. Hard.

"I said, stop crying goddamn it!" Then her gaze softened and she stroked my manacled ankle. "I'm sorry, but you shouldn't have made me do that," she said. "Anyway, like I was saying, I had a brilliant idea. I would make you a home here in the basement -- a little place to keep you hidden. Then I could tell her you were dead. This way everyone wins." She beamed with pride.

I was horrified. I was going to be a prisoner in my own house and totally dependent on her. All while my wife slept with her lover -- a lover who wanted me dead. The only thing I could hope for was escape or for my wife to change her mind.

"Please don't do this to me," I cried. I tried to reach for her. I wanted to hug her and try to break through her cold fa-ade.

"Get back," she warned. "Look, it's the only way. If she finds you - finds out I lied, she will kill you herself. I love her, but she can be violent sometimes." She took the edge of the sheet and dried my eyes. "Listen, she's going to be here soon and she thinks I killed you last night."

My wife climbed atop me, pinning my arms underneath her knees. "Sweetie, I'm going to have to ask you to get rid of the evidence."

The evidence she was referring to was her well used twat, just inches from my mouth. My stomach recoiled in revulsion. I had never had any desire to taste cum and I sure as hell didn't want any part of the disgusting mess leaking from her cunt.

"I can't," I said, turning my face away.

"Hurry, she could be here at any moment." She lifted my chin, so that I was once again facing her matted sex. "You have to... or she will suspect you are still alive."

What was I going to do, die for my foolish pride? I did the only thing I could - what anyone would. I licked my spending from her sex. It was salty and bitter. It formed little balls and clung to her pubic hair that were almost impossible to get out. The worst was when she made me suck at her opening and I got a mouthful of the vile liquid. I promised myself that if I ever got out of this I would never again expect a woman to swallow.

"Use your tongue," she gasped. "Use your tongue inside of me. Make sure you get every last drop of your nasty business."

From the sound of her voice I wondered if she really was afraid I missed some or if she only wanted to get off. I wasn't taking any chances. Besides, if I got her off, she might be in a friendlier disposition. I drove my tongue into her sex and then moved up and licked her clit. Even if she wasn't expecting an orgasm, she got one and a helluva good one from the sound of her moans.

After she came down from her orgasm, she looked down at my wet face and smiled. "Oh baby, if you had made me cum like that earlier, we would never have gotten in this fix."

"Please, honey," I begged. "Just let me go. We can work this out some other way." She looked as if she were considering it, but just then a there was a buzz of the doorbell.

"Oh God, she's here. Listen honey, if you want to live, please-please-please don't make a sound while she's here. I'll let you know when it's safe again." She hugged me tightly, but always holding the stun gun. "Okay?"

"Okay."

Man, this was the worst fix I had ever been in and the problem was: I had no idea how to get out of it. I just needed a little time to think about it. Where there's a will, there's a way. For now, I would have to play along.

That night, my wife's new lover had sex with her time and time again. Unfortunately, the bed they were in was right over mine. Every moan and every squeak of the bed served as a brutal reminder of my loss of not only my wife, but my freedom. The chastity belt made sure of that.

I hate to admit it but while I listened to them fucking there above me, it turned me on. I'm not sure if it was my wife's loud cries of passion or if it was when her lover called her a filthy whore, whatever it was, my cock ached for release. I tried everything to get beneath that dreaded belt, but the most I was able to do was wiggle half a pinky beneath it. I couldn't even touch my cock.

I placed my face into the pillow to muffle my sobs. I didn't get much sleep, but then again, neither did my wife.

The next morning my wife came to the basement carrying a tray of breakfast. I was sitting calmly propped up on the bed. I kept my hand hidden under the sheets. I was bleeding a little from where I had been working the chain that was attached to the cuff, but she didn't need to know that.

"It's breakfast time, sweetie." My wife looked a mess. Her hair was in disarray and her robe was open displaying the evidence of her night's activities. The lips of her sex appeared inflamed and there were telltale hickies on her neck. The bitch. Wasn't it bad enough what she had done to me, did she have to flaunt it, mocking me?

"I'm not hungry right now, but you can leave it for later." I was hungry, but I couldn't risk her seeing my hand. It would be too easy for her to figure out what I had been doing.

Before I could react, there was the warning crackle of electricity. My body was wracked by spasms from the stun gun. My only thought was why?

"You were a very naughty boy last night. I did all this for your own protection and how do you repay me? You disobey me!" She snatched the covers off of my hand. "Do you think I'm stupid? There are cameras watching your every move. You can't even fart without me knowing it."

She went over to the trunk located at the far end of the room and opened it with a key. Then she came back over with what looked like two black bags, which she began to put on my hands.

I struggled as soon as I realized their purpose, but after the stun gun, I was as weak as a kitten. Soon my hands were balled up in the mittens and she locked each of them. She had taken my hands away from me. Then, she got up, placed my tray on the floor and left.

It took awhile before I felt like I could move again. I experimentally tested the mittens on my hands. Then, I remembered the cameras. I looked around for them, but couldn't find them. As small as they make them now, they could be anywhere.

I cried for awhile, but it was more dry heaves. There weren't many tears left to give. After thirty minutes, she descended the stairs again.

She looked down at my untouched breakfast and tapped the tray with her bare foot. "When I said it was breakfast time; it wasn't a question." She advanced with the stun gun. There was no way I could endure that again, so soon after the last shock.

"Wait-wait, I wanted to, but my hands." I fell out of bed, as I sought to evade the stun gun.

"They're not coming off until I think you've learned your lesson. Now eat your breakfast!"

I walked over toward the tray, but I found it was out of my reach. "I can't reach it," I said.

"Sure you can. You just aren't trying hard enough. Would you like me to encourage you?"

She was scaring me again. She was the creature again, the uncaring creature that smiled and talked calmly while torturing and imprisoning her husband.

I got down on my stomach and stretched out. I reached for the tray to pull it to me, but she put her foot down on it.

"Leave it," she commanded.

"How am I going eat it with no hands?"

"You've got a mouth don't you?"

I swallowed my pride and began to lap up the cold oatmeal, glaring up at her accusingly. As if it weren't humiliating enough, she squatted so that her well used cunt was inches from my face.

"Don't you dare look at me like that. If you had been satisfying me like a husband should, this would have never happened. When you ate me yesterday, I almost had second thoughts about this. That is, until she fucked me last night and what a fuck it was. Just look at my poor little pussy. Now, that is a well- fucked pussy, isn't it?"

I ignored her, licking up the last of the oatmeal. She pulled me head up by my hair, until I was staring at her sex.

"I said, isn't it?"

"Yes." Just give in and give her what she wants, I told myself. She has to make a mistake sometime. A guest or a neighbor coming to visit, would be all that it took for me to get my freedom back.

"All you had to do was, do me like yesterday, but you had to hold back on me all this time, didn't you?"

"I'm sorry," I said. Then attempting to get back in her good graces, I kissed the red crinkly lips of her sex. The scent of her sex was overpowering after making love all night.

She moaned in response and I gave her what she wanted. I tried to get back her good side or at least make her see reason, with my mouth and tongue. She rolled me over on my back and rode my face.

The chastity belt hurt my swollen cock. I moaned from the pain and my need. She confused my moans for pleasure.

"You like this don't you? Moan for me, my little lezzie. You love this. You love being my cunt slut." She tugged my nipples, teasing me even more. By the time she finally came, my face was a mess and my tongue and lips ached.

She took her time getting off of me and picked up several pills from the breakfast tray.

"Here take these. Don't worry, I'm not trying to kill you. These will just help keep you on an even keel so to speech."

I took the medicine. She patted me on the head and then got up to leave. As she ascended the stairs, she turned and asked. "Now, aren't you sorry for making me take another lover," she said, twisting the knife in my heart.

This is the way it went for two weeks. I stayed in the dark basement and didn't leave the bed except when my wife came down to feed me. There was a bathroom in the basement as well, but without the use of my hands, I had to depend on her for all my needs. My only entertainment was listening to the sounds above me in the house. The pills she was giving me didn't seem to be working at all. I lost track on the times I cried during the day.

Finally, the boredom and the sheer inhumanness of my current situation drove me to the edge of madness and despair. I made my decision.

"Eat your breakfast or else," she warned, brandishing the stun gun.

"No. Shock me all you want, but I'm not going to eat."

"Oh, you'll eat alright."

"No, I won't. I can't live like this anymore. I'd rather die. Take these mittens off of my hands so I can end this torment." I was proud of myself. I didn't even cry.

She stroked my hair and looked into my eyes. "You're right. Listen, just eat your food and I'll think of something else, okay?"

"This is the last time," I warned, but obeyed her. She was actually nice enough to feed me with the spoon this time.

For the first time in weeks, I was happy. One way or another I was getting out of this basement.

Five hours later, she came down the steps again. Instead of bearing a tray of food, her arms were full of bags. I could feel my anger rising. I was trapped and contemplating suicide and while the bitch went shopping.

"I've got it!" she said. "I figured out a solution to this mess." She threw the bags on my bed and kissed me.

"Are you going to let me go?" I asked.

"In a manner of speaking, sweetie. Go on; place your hands on the headboard. I'm not taking any chances with you, while I remove all this stuff."

"I'm not going to live like this," I said. "Promise you will turn me loose."

"I promise," she said in an exasperated manner. As if she had the right to be exasperated.

I placed my hands on the bed and she cuffed them. Then she released me from all my other bonds. Afterwards, she buckled some sort of ring around the base of my penis.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Just be quiet and I'll tell you all about it," she said. "Well, while I was out I had a brainstorm. Well, I owe it all to you, really. You see, I almost feel like you're a lesbian when you eat me out. So, I decided to make you into a girl. Alex would never suspect that you were my husband then."

I started struggling again. This was not the solution I expected.

"Stop fighting me on this you little bitch," Jill said. "Look it's either this or I leave you down here and I assure you, I can make you eat, even if I have to put a tube down your throat."

Images of her castrating me flashed through my mind. I pictured myself bleeding to death in the bed. "You're not going to cut me are you?"

"Of course not."

I stopped struggling and she unlocked one of the cuffs, placing the key in my free hand. She kissed me and then stepped back.

"Go on, and undo your cuffs. We have a lot of work to do, so we better get started.

I undid the cuff, stood up, and waited for the room to stop spinning. Then, I walked towards the door, towards freedom.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked.

"I'm outta here." But I wasn't. Just then, it felt as though I had been kicked in the balls by a horse. I fell to the ground in the most intense pain I had ever experienced.

"That's just a taste of what happens when you disobey me," she said. "Now get into the bathroom, so we can get started."

I couldn't walk, so I crawled to the bathroom. Once there, she set to work transforming me. First she gave me a bath and then shaved me. Her mood appeared amiable, yet I knew a dangerous bitch lay just under the surface. I didn't chance another encounter with her alter personality, so I did every thing she asked and answered her every question with a yes.

"Now how do we explain, how you came to live in this house? How about we tell Alex you're the maid? Would you like to be my little maid?"

"Yes."

"A maid should call the lady of the house Mistress, shouldn't she?"

"Yes... Mistress." I would have called her Goddess to keep from getting shocked again.

"Oh, I do so love the sound of that. Don't you feel so sexy now that all that nasty old body hair is gone?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"We can't very well call you Maid can we? And Bill and William are definitely not suitable names. How about Bambi or Barbi? Which do you like best?"

"Can I choose another?"

"I said Bambi or Barbi."

I wouldn't inflict a name like Bambi or Barbi on anyone, but I didn't appear to have much say in the matter, so Barbi it was. "Barbi, Mistress."

"Well Barbi, your hair is too short for most anything except a bob. Do you want me to give you a bob?"

"Yes, Mistress." And so it went. My eyebrows plucked, my ears pierced, some sort of latex breasts were glued to my chest, and I now had manicured nails. Worse, I had to agree to each step of my transformation.

Finally, she placed the chastity belt back on me and dressed me in a maid's uniform. However, there was one big difference which would become apparent later: there was no back in the skirt. This meant that the cheeks of my ass would be exposed at all times.

"What do you think of yourself?" she asked, as we stood in front of a mirror.

"I-I look pretty Mistress." The truth was; I wasn't just lying to please her. I did look pretty. I didn't even recognize the cute leggy brunette standing in front of the mirror in high heels. As disconcerting as it was to admit, I would have tried to pick her-I mean me up.

"That isn't a very Barbi-ish voice is it?"

"Ugh-no, Mistress," I replied, sounding as feminine as possible.

"That's better Barbi, but say it lower, with more breath and less voice."

"Yes, Mistress."

"A smidge softer, Barbi."

"Like this, Mistress?"

"Perfect."


I thought the worst was over, but the trials had only begun. By the time the week was over, I almost yearned for days of being chained to the bed again.

Everywhere I went, she followed behind carrying a riding crop, while I unlearned twenty years worth of living as a man.

<Thwack-thwack-thwack!> She alternately smacked each cheek of my bottom. "You're walking like a horse again. Swivel those hips and place one foot over the other when you step, Barbi."

I had seen the walk she wanted me to effect before. It wasn't a walk that you would see from a professional woman, unless that woman's profession was walking the streets. As much as I tried to resist, it was a walk that soon became second nature.

"Pick up that cigarette butt, Will," she ordered.

I bent forward at the waist as I had been taught, taking particular care for my movements to be graceful.

<Thwack!Thwack!Twack!> She cropped my ass, almost causing me to fall. I fucked up again; I had responded to my old name.

"Your name isn't Will, is it bitch? Who's Will?"

"No Mistress, my name is Barbi. Will, is your dead husband, Mistress." I curtseyed very low, because this was a bad offense. The worst part was admitting that Will was dead, which never failed to bring tears to my eyes.

"Who did you say you were?"

"I'm Barbi, Mistress. Your lesbian maid."

"You didn't sound very thrilled at the prospect. Are you sure you'd rather not be my cock-sucking maid instead?"

"No, Mistress. I'm Barbi, your lesbian maid." I smiled and dropped to the floor, kissing her shoes.

"That's much better slut. You better not forget it either," she warned, emphasizing her words with the crop. "Mmmm, you look sexy licking my shoes, but I think I have something better for you to lick."


There wasn't a free moment to be myself. My every waking breath was taken up by Barbi and my wife. When we talked, she quizzed me about my life. Of course, I made up convincing lies about a fantasy childhood, of being made fun of being named Barbi, of coming to terms with being a submissive lesbian. Jill would cross-examine and punish me if I messed up even the tiniest detail.

She even bought me a Pilates exercise machine to lengthen my limbs and help me develop grace. She kept my feet locked in heels even when I slept. Much of my time was spent between her legs on what she called advanced courses in lesbianism. I grew used to being continually teased and sexually frustrated. My only release was the occasional nocturnal emission.

This was my routine for over a month. I was no longer surprised when I walked in front of a mirror. My punishments now were for failing to be a good maid, instead of failing to be a good female. No one else had seen Barbi, because Jill didn't let me out of the house and would always send me down to the basement whenever Alex or someone else would come over.

However, that was all to change one morning...


It was morning and Mistress was late. I passed the time by doing splits in bed. Why? Well, my wife was determined to make a woman out of me and women were more flexible than men. Every morning Mistress would come down to examine my progress. She would make me try to put my legs behind my head, spread them to each side with my legs straight, and to each side with my legs bent. As if this wasn't humiliating enough, she would measure my progress with a tape measure. If there wasn't enough progress, she would punish the insides of my thighs until there was.

I stretched my legs wide, my inner thighs burning from the strain. However, it wasn't even close to the burn from the crop. It was at this moment I was broken out of my ruminations.

"Jill? Jill?" I heard Alex calling for my wife throughout the house. Then my worst fears came true when the door to the basement opened. I quickly ducked my head under the pillow.

"Jill, are you down here?" The basement was only lit with a small nightlight. I held perfectly still, hoping she wouldn't see me, but to no avail.

"Oh, there you are," she said.

I was petrified. This was the woman who wanted to kill me and had stolen my wife. Her voice was deep, but it wasn't quite a man's voice either.

Oh, please go away-please go away. But, she didn't. Instead, she descended the steps. I tried to shrink back, when she grabbed my ankle.

"Lookie-lookie, Jillie's wearing fuck-me pumps in bed... How kinky."

It wasn't by choice that I had the heels on, I didn't even think about them anymore. The only time I was allowed to take them off, was when I bathed.

I felt the hand move up my legs and cup my ass. Then it moved towards the crotch and paused at the belt. She jerked the sheet off of my body. I was only covered by the pillow over my head and a see-through nightie.

"Kinkier and Kinkier, Jillie. Well, if I can't have that pussy, I'll have to settle for a piece of that ass."

I felt strong hands lift my ass up. Then I felt her spit in my ass crack. How disgusting. A finger worked it in, which was withdrawn and replaced by two. I thought I would hate it, but instead I found it rather enjoyable.

"Aw, listen to my little rich bitch moan. She wants it up the ass doesn't she?"

Was I moaning? I probably was, after not having any sexual release in over a month.

She slapped my ass. Hard. "I said, doesn't she?"

I moaned loudly. It was the only thing I could think to do. It was so dark, she couldn't see me well enough to know that I wasn't Jill, but if she heard my voice, I would surely be given away.

"I bet you do, slut," she said, jamming the head of her plastic cock against my tightly clenched virgin rosebud. I cried out in pain.

"Oh, you've never done this before, have you? I thought you had from the get-up. Just relax your ass for me and daddy will take good care of you."

I heard her spit again, but I was thankful for the extra lubrication.

I relaxed my ass as best I could and she slowly pressed it home until the full length was embedded in me. She called me little pet names and stroked my back as I accepted it. Then, she slowly began to fuck me with it. As I grew accustomed to it, she picked up the pace. Her language changed. She called me a high class slut and her rich ass whore, while she spanked my ass.

I was beyond caring at that point. I felt a molten heat coursing through my loins. I was going to cum. It was just then that she decided to pull out of my ass. She teased me with the tip, poking it in my little hole, but not enough to finish me off.

"That's right moan for me bitch. You should have let me do this a long time ago."

I couldn't help but moan. I needed to cum and my cock hurt inside the tight sheath of the chastity belt.

"Who's your daddy, little rich girl? Huh ass whore? Who's your daddy?"

My body betrayed me. I needed to cum more than anything. "You are-ugh, you're my daddy," I moaned, raising myself onto all fours and thrusting back into her, filling my ass with her dildo.

"Who the fuck?" She pushed me off of her. I turned back around and then reality set in. Did she know who I was? What was she going to do if she knew? My gaze fell to the large dildo she wore between her legs. God, how had that huge thing fit inside of me? She saw my stares and quickly put it back inside her pants. She blushed from embarrassment.

 
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