As the weeks went by, I became better at doing my make-up and hair, and at all the cookery and household chores that Anita would demand I did for her. Yvonne and Mitch had now left town and were working in Australia and I was now going in to "The Lingerie Emporium" dressed as Roberta and changing in to my uniform, underneath which I wore a long-line black corset with under-wired bra cups which I padded out. Edna had taken me in to the fitting room on the first-floor to measure me for my corsets; I found it a very arousing experience despite my embarrassment.

Before Anita came home on her first term-break from University though, I had one day where I blotted my copybook.

Edna had denied me my weekend wank the week before for something trivial, perhaps I hadn't fastened her stockings on quickly enough or hadn't ensured her seams were straight. Consequently, by the following weekend, especially as I was now dressing and undressing Edna each day, my sex-drive was at boiling point, my balls felt as though they were going to explode if they didn't get release soon.

As I was unfastening her bra before helping her on with her nightie, I just couldn't resist slipping my hands quickly around to her chest and grasping her breasts. As I quickly started to tweak her big nipples between my fingers, I thrust my groin forwards and pressed my pantie-clad, caged willy into the soft cheeks of her naked buttocks. Things only lasted for maybe a few seconds at most. I was like a dog on heat, trying to mount an unwilling bitch. I was only wearing a shorty, sticky-out white frilly nightie and matching night-time briefs. For a brief moment, I thought Edna was going to respond positively and indulge my rutting desires but I soon realised I'd overstepped the mark. She struggled free from my grasp and, breasts waving freely with nipples jutting out having clearly enjoyed my rubbing, she slapped me hard across my cheek.

Chastened at the realisation that I'd done such a thing, I immediately apologised, trying to excuse my actions by saying how difficult it had been not to have had any release when dressed as Roberta full time, in corsets and panties.

Edna finished putting on her nightie without responding to my plea of mitigation and went and sat on the dressing-table seat.

"Over here now. Over my knee and take your punishment."

I did as I was told, knowing that my cheeks were going to be rather red by the time Edna had spanked me with the back of the hair brush she was now wielding.

I let my panties drop to my ankles and lifted the hem of my nightie up. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth as the spanking followed. I lost count of how many strokes I received but at least remembered to waggle my legs as instructed.

Throughout the beating, Edna reminded me that I was a servant, a pathetic sissy who must leave it entirely up to the female of the species to decide when, how and with whom I might get sexual relief: I had no rights, no say in the matter.

The next morning - Sunday, Edna rang Joyce and told her what had happened whilst I listened on in shame. I had dressed Edna that morning and hardly dared look at her undressed or semi-dressed form. I was still aching for relief but the memory of the spanking I'd received the night before made sure I stayed the devoted servant and sissy who ought not to even think of touching a mistress without permission.

Joyce came around to the house shortly after and I had to lift the hem of my black, frilly maid's uniform and drop my frilly panties to show her my reddened cheeks.

Edna rang Anita and told her of my unacceptable behaviour whilst I stood in the corner, panties down at my high-heels and skirt lifted up exposing my buttocks.

I couldn't make out what Anita was saying but she clearly approved of her mother's actions in spanking me.

"Well Roberta, your mistress has very kindly in my opinion accepted that, as this was your first major transgression and you accepted you were out of order and desisted as soon as I resisted you, that your spanking was punishment enough."

"Thank you Mistress Edna," I responded.

Joyce, who was seated nearby drinking tea, listened to all this in silence.

"Also, she thinks that perhaps to avoid such behaviour in future, you must get release if you haven't had any for 3 weeks. So, I'm going to let you use one of your toys to have a sissy-wank whilst I watch the TV and chat with your Mistress Joyce."

I was grateful for release, there's no denying, but it was difficult and humiliating, lying on the carpet in the living room, in front of the two women trying to bring myself off with the dildo I was provided with whilst they chatted away and watched TV, seemingly oblivious to my effort to ejaculate just feet away from them.

Anita's return home between terms provided her once more with the chance to re-enforce her utter dominance over me.

She'd arranged for the two of us to spend a week-end in a hotel in Manchester. She informed me that she was going to visit a club a friend at her University had told her about, where she hoped to pick-up a man with a large penis so that she and I could both get - in her words - "a proper servicing".

I waited expectantly, nervously, in our room, dressed and made up to the nines, looking if say so myself, rather sexy. I'd lost a little weight as a result of Edna's sissy-training regime, and now wore a sexy underwired and padded black lacy bra, lacy black thong and fully fashioned black stockings that had a little black bow at the back. I also had on my favourite pair of shiny, black 5-inch high-heeled shoes. I'd not had a wank for nearly two weeks and was desperate for release and yes, I admit it, excited at the thought of a well-hung man foisting himself on my sexy behind and getting-off by riding me.

Anita didn't disappoint. Don't ask me how she could tell whether a man was up for sex with a submissive tranny like me, maybe she possessed a "gaydar". It was nearing midnight when back to the room traipsed Anita with a well-dressed, clean-cut young man about my age in tow. I recognised him; he was a well known professional footballer (let's call him Tony). For all his status, wealth and fame it was Anita who was calling the shots.

After introducing me to Tony, she informed him that, before he could have sex with her, he'd have to have either service me or have me suck him off.

"Men," she explained, "come too soon. This way, when you make love to me, you'll be able to make a better job of it."

Tony didn't argue and, on instruction from my mistress, I knelt in front of him and undid his trouser zip, unbuttoned his trousers and, as Anita watched and encouraged me, gave him a blow-job that he clearly enjoyed.

From the corner of my eyes, I could see Anita undressing and longed to bury my face in her cute bush and to be the one who would feel her tits and ride her pussy, but I knew it wouldn't be me. Tony's dick was a fair bit larger than mine and it was his tool my mistress wanted to penetrate her.

I was ordered to swallow all his come when he eventually came. Needless to say, I obeyed.

Then I had to stand by the side of the bed and watch him give my wife-to-be a satisfying, long fuck; Anita pronouncing herself satisfied when all was done that her system of having me service her lovers first so that they didn't come to soon when it was her turn for dick was the way she would do things from now on.

Tony, to his credit, agreed to Anita's request that he service me rather than give her a second screw before he left.

Uncaged, and with Tony lying on his back, I lowered myself onto his large beast as I faced towards his feet and looked directly at Anita.

"Ride my sissy hard Tony. Show her no mercy, get right up there; she loves it, don't you Roberta?"

"Yes Mistress," I agreed - my now erect dick waving about like a wind-sock in a gale.

I shot my well-stocked tank of spunk some distance, before Tony had finished with me but I wasn't allowed to climb off, just had to stay in place and be ridden until the alpha male had come too.

Anita had me serviced like this once more before she graduated and promised that there would be more to come once we were wed. I now relished the thought of getting dick whilst dressed in lingerie as much as having sex with women, especially as my bride-to-be assured me she'd only seek out really well-hung men, which would, in her opinion, re-enforce my awareness of being a mere sissy plaything.

By the time of the wedding (it was a quiet, registry office event with only a couple of guests), Anita had graduated with a first with honours and landed a graduate trainee's job at a large local-council not too far away from our home town over the Pennines in Cheshire. It wasn't the best paid job someone with her degree could get but there were, she informed me, lots of opportunities for promotion and a really good pension and benefits package.

Edna had chosen my honeymoon trousseau which I didn't put on until the morning of the wedding. Although I was outwardly dressed in male clothing for the ceremony, underneath I wore a white, lacy corset with padded cups of course, small, silky white panties with yellow lace edging and bow and white fully-fashioned seamed stockings attached to a white suspender belt.

Joyce had bought me a new chastity cage as a wedding present and I had this on too. It was of metal (rather than whalebone like my old one) and I had this on as I made my vows. I couldn't wait to get back to the hotel where, Anita told me, I'd be allowed to change into a short but frilly wedding dress with petticoats and a white, fine mesh veil after putting my make-up and lipstick on and doing my hair.

Once in to my sissy bride's clothes, I watched as Anita undressed. I could see her beautiful young breasts, firm, proud and thrusting with raspberry-like nipples wriggling underneath the flimsy material of her bra, eager for teasing. She left her black stockings on but slowly, deliciously took down her damp, light-blue panties, allowing me a long, admiring, salivating gaze at her trim black bush and beckoning fanny lips.

Once her panties were off, she extracted the key from her handbag and tossed it to me to uncage my now desperate dick.

"Let's have a honeymoon unlike any other," she grinned.

Just then there was a knock at the bedroom door.

"That'll be Marcus. Let him in, there's a good girl."

Confused but not daring to question my owner, I walked to the door, dick stiff as a poker under my cute panties and let in the man waiting outside.

"You must be the bride - Roberta isn't it?" he enquired.

I nodded and let him in. Marcus it turned out was the Professor at the University Anita had attended. No wonder she was so confident of getting a first!

I was to get a first too that day! Marcus - under Anita's insistence - had to have his first ejaculation with me before he could turn his attentions to her. So, on my honeymoon, I ended up face down on the bed with my bum thrust up in to the air, my panties pulled to one side, being ridden balls-deep by yet another man who's tackle put mine to shame. All the while he was burying his dick in to my sissy-pussy, Anita was encouraging him to give me a fucking to remember and telling me what a cock-loving little sissy I was.

I came in buckets of course and then had to watch my wife being serviced by yet another man.

Returning from our honeymoon, back in my chastity device of course, Anita informed me that I could not expect to have sex with her or any woman come to that ever again. I was not worthy to enter a vagina and must only serve cocks. By now, I was so attuned to my sissy, subservient role - some might say brainwashed - that I meekly acknowledged her decision.

I left my job at "The Lingerie Emporium" to move to a rented house nearer to where Anita was now working. I spent the days, always caged and dressed and made-up as a frilly, lacy lingerie wearing maid, who attended to his mistresses every need.

About five times a year on average she would arrange for me to be serviced by alpha-males and I dutifully went along with this humiliation.

Anita climbed the ladder of success with the council, eventually reaching the position of chief planning officer with a salary to match.

By now, we'd bought our own house - quite a grand property in fact in a rather plush area of East Cheshire.

I rather suspected that one or two of the men who Anita had me "service" were influential in her rapid promotion. Not that I ever asked her about this. My job was to do as told without question.

True to her word, Anita arranged for me to have breast implants which thrilled me no end. Not the rather large size that Edna and Joyce had, but large enough to turn a head if I were out in public with a low cut blouse or dress on.

Occasionally Anita would bring another female home with her for sex. Sometimes I would be shown-off to these women and made to wait on them. It was very embarrassing of course to be paraded before these giggling women but embarrassment was something I, deep-down, rather liked.

There was one woman in particular though who I remember from those years more clearly than most. Anita had - for her - a rather long relationship with her. Donna, a strikingly beautiful young blond woman with breasts to die for, had been telling Anita how her husband - a big shot local property developer -had started to become rather a male chauvinist pig, always demanding sex even if she didn't feel like it and making belittling comments about her in front of others, including their two daughters.

I'd been made to wait on the two of them after they'd enjoyed their sex sessions, and Donna was fascinated by Anita's opinion that putting her husband in chastity would bring him to heel.

Anita told her to buy a particular chastity device and lock him in it when he was flat-out drunk and then to give the keys to her (Anita) until her husband had come to heel. Donna thought it might take a few months as he was more of a man than I was, but she thought it worth a try.

Anita allowed Donna to spank me a few times so that she would get used to dominating a man and she also watched me do a sissy-wank to show her how desperate to obey men with dicks under control became; to what humiliating depths they'd descend.

I often wonder what happened to her poor, unsuspecting husband.

Of course, as the years go by, change is an ever present. Edna died suddenly from a heart-attack and, after the inevitable grieving that followed, the silver-lining of that particular cloud let itself be known.

Edna's husband had died in service whilst a detective in the local police force. His death meant that Edna's mortgage was paid off in full by the life-assurance policy, she received a death-in-service lump sum pay out and was also receiving a widow's pension. In short she was quite a wealthy woman and now, Anita would inherit all that, she being the sole beneficiary of her mother's will.

The thing that rankled Anita though was that I, as her husband, might also be a beneficiary of her mother's estate. Not that I had the wherewithal to get my hands on any of this, but her knowing that, in law, I would inherit all this if she were to die before me did seem to cause her a little discomfort.

I never gave it much thought. I was happily getting on with my life of being a feminised sissy who obeyed his wife's every whim and who tolerated being cuckolded and humiliated by her.

One day though, I was in town doing a little shopping (and smiling at the lascivious glances men were - as usual - giving my long stocking-clad legs, short skirt and tight blouse) when I realised I'd left my purse at home with my shopping-allowance in it.

I decided to call in at Anita's office (announcing myself as Roberta to the receptionist rather than as Anita's husband). As I waited in reception for the lady on the front desk to contact her, I noticed Anita's profile (I was sure it was her), through the frosted glass of an office window that backed on to the reception area. She was with someone else, a man.

What's more, it was clear by their body-language - even before they quickly kissed one another - that they were more than just good friends.

Anita always relished telling me about her male lovers and how good they were at sex and how big their dicks were if they were men she'd not ordered to service me. So how come she hadn't mentioned this latest chap?

When Anita eventually came through to reception and gave me some spending money -admonishing me for being so forgetful - I made no mention of my seeing her with this other man. I did though, cautiously, monitor her incoming home mail and, although most of it was innocuous enough, alarm bells started to ring when I noticed a letter from a local firm of solicitors had been delivered. A quick look through her diary showed she had made an appointment to see a solicitor, one who I found out, specialised in divorce.

I didn't dare question her about all this: it was not my place to question her about anything, but I was concerned. Plus this new man in her life that she was keeping secret from me heightened my sense that something was amiss. And when Anita informed me that she was going on a fortnight's holiday overseas - on her own so she said - it further heightened my anxiety. Was I going to be divorced, cast aside like some worn-out piece of furniture that was no longer of use? And what could I do if I was? Who would employ me? How would I pay my bills or put a roof over my head?

Whilst Anita was away on her holiday, I still kept up with the housework, still put my make-up on as skilfully as I'd been taught. I hoped that by keeping myself busy, I'd put all my doubts behind me and maybe a perfectly acceptable explanation would be forthcoming in due course.

It was a phone call at about 2 p.m. that was to change my world.

"Can I speak to Mr Robert Eardley please?"

I hesitantly told the caller I was that person. I didn't recognise the voice. It was the voice of a police officer. He wanted to call round and see me. I wasn't sure if I should agree - perhaps it was a con, but in the end I told him to call in about an hour (this would give me time to take off my make-up and put on the few male clothes Anita had allowed me to keep).

The officer turned up accompanied by a police woman - both in uniform. They made me sit down and then gave me the news that Anita had been killed in a car accident in Spain the day before. She was a passenger in a car in which the male driver had also been killed.

In due course Anita's body was returned to the UK and, tempted though I was to attend the funeral dressed in black as Roberta, I dressed as a man.

I had though, after getting over the shock news, rifled through her desk and found documents that did indeed show she was intending to divorce me and make sure I never received a penny from her. The driver of the car who'd died alongside her was, so some of her colleagues told me, thought to be having an affair with her and on the verge of divorcing his wife.

I destroyed all the documents I could find that suggested she wanted me out of her life and, still dressed as Robert, managed to find a solicitor who helped me with the probate of her estate. She hadn't actually got around to making a will - although that was clearly something she had intended doing and so, I inherited the lot! The house - well the mortgage was now paid off by her life assurance policy. Holiday insurance? Yes - she had that and I collected the pay-out. The council also made a death-in-service pay out to me together with a monthly sum from her pension.

I was now a rich man - well, comparatively rich and it was absolutely clear to anyone who was of a suspicious nature that I'd had nothing to do with her death.

Of course I grieved, of course I missed her and the thrill of the submission and humiliation I'd endured under her. But grief is a drink best swallowed quickly.

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