What's Yours Is Mine

 

And what's his is still his

Clyde wasted little time when we walked into the bedroom.  His arm wrapped around me and pulled me into a kiss.  I barely let out a muffle as our  lips pressed together, my first time ever kissing a man, but I still obediently wrapped my arm around his shoulders as Nicolette told me.  The real surprise was how quickly Clyde made his claim.  My whimper was louder this time as his hand pressed my form fitting dress and touched my small limp cockette and he simply said “This was yours.  Then it was hers.  Now it’s mine, and it will NEVER get used again!”

 

One of the reasons I fell in love with Nicolette was she saw right through all my bullshit.  I tired to play the strong tall macho game and just never understood why I didn’t get the girls.  When her and my friends set us up on our first date, she got right to the point.  She knew within minutes of meeting that I was a closeted sissy.  I’d had girls figure this out before and while some laughed and some cried and some raged, they all left.  But no one figured it out within a few minutes except my Nicolette and she didn’t leave.  She not only liked that I was a sissy, she liked me. 

We fell deep in love as we were both exactly what the other was looking for.  She needed to have someone under her thumb, that was truly hers, and I just happened to fit the bill.  I needed someone to take command of my life, to own me, and she just happened to fill that role.  She made it clear from the beginning that I’d not only embrace my sissy self with her, that she’d be making me celebrate it with the whole world.  Within a month of meeting my future wife and mistress, I was completely hairless from the eyebrows down. Shaving had led to waxes.  Waxes led to depilatory creams.  Depilatory creams led to laser hair removal. 

I already knew the glorious feeling of wearing panties, stockings, and bras, but Nicolette made those feelings familiar as that’s what I wore every day at home.  My clothing selections were now hers to choose and by the time she had me wearing the panties, stockings, and garterbelt to work under my slacks and dress shirt, it felt fine.  Everything she had me wear at home eventually found its way to the public view.  Women’s shoes.  Heels.  Blouses.  These all could be hidden to one degree or another but I worried what would happen when she introduced me to skirts and dresses at home. 

I shouldn’t have worried.  Its not like she focused on one thing or another.  Every day she was teaching and training me on embracing my true self.  My sissy femmy self.  She taught me to talk softly and melodically.  She taught me to walk with a shift and sway that belonged to the fairer sex.  She taught me to be demure and accept people looking at me with desire.  She taught me to be submissive and let others take command whether it was with her voice or her strap on in bed.  She taught me I wasn’t ever really Kyle.  She taught me I was truly Kylie.  So when I went to work in my smart looking pencil skirt and pushup bra, I was able to giggle and admit to HR that I wanted to change that little M on my corporate identity card to an F. 

Female

I was hers to do with as she pleased so when work offered me the demotion from programmer to secretary as a joke, she made me take it.  I now get coffee for my former colleagues and deliver their internal mail.  All the time with that wide accepting smile that Nicolette demands. 

I thought things were moving fast then, but Nicolette was just getting warmed up.  In our first wedding ceremony I wore the black tuxedo with the pretty lacy blank lingerie underneath, but in what we now see as our real wedding, I wore a white dress while she wore a fashionable black and white number.  By that time my name was legally changed and I took her last name.  Mr and Mrs Kyle Smith became Mrs Nicolette and Kylie Miller.  She’d had me on the hormones long enough that my little breasts were able to sway just a bit as she had me on all fours and took my virginity from behind. 

I wanted to remain all natural and let the hormones make me into the woman I’d be, but my Nicolette insisted I was hers and she wanted me to be her perfect vision of womanhood.  My breasts were enhanced.  My lips were plumped and my face was softened.  My Adam’s apple was removed and my ass was added.  Five years into our marriage and I now get more compliments than my wife.  She loves that that still makes me blush such a bright red. 

After many happy years, we found out things about each other that we hadn’t known before.  I found out that while I was perfectly happy to be femmy and sissy and legally female, I didn’t want to give up my penis.  Sure, Nicolette still owned that part of me and made me call it my cockette, but I still coveted that part of me.  She even let me have fun with it once in awhile although she hasn’t touched it purposefully for pleasure since our first wedding night.  Nicolette found out that while controlling and owning her own barbie doll is satisfying, she still desires a man’s touch.  Something I can no longer give her. 

I don’t know if cuckold technically applies to me any longer, but I got to watch my Nicolette make love to men in our marital bed.  A part of me died each time that happened, but another bigger part reveled at seeing my loving owner get pleased and pleasured so well in a way that I couldn’t provide.  Eventually she set levels of performance for her men with the intent to take a permanent lover.  First, they had to attract her.  I had no part in this as she’s just tell me she found another candidate.  Second, they had to pleasure her.  We were well beyond being embarrassed by our body’s desires, so we could both accept her desire for a man with a big cock.  He had to stretch and fill her and have the stamina and staying power to fuck her for hours on end.  Third, they had to accept me.  They had to hear me tell the story from Kyle, to Kylie, to personal property of my Nicolette.  They had to hear that story and not blanche or try to get rid of me.  If they could accept that I was always going to be Nicolette’s wife and first love, they could move on to the final test.  The final challenge.  Until Clyde came along, only a few men got to the third level of performance and none could pass the final test. 

Clyde surprised me.  He was frumpy.  He wasn’t in bad shape but he wasn’t any type of athlete.  But I had to admit he had a stamina that surprised me as he brought Nicolette to so many orgasms that she honestly passed out.  When I told Clyde my story he didn’t even blink.  After finishing he just told me to get him another drink, to kiss my wife goodnight, and to come to bed with them. 

And tonight, Clyde is passing his final test.  He didn’t even know it as neither my mistress wife nor I told him what he would need to do.  We needed it to be a natural part of him and it seems like it’s a part of his core.  His acceptance of my vestigial organ was fine but his need to own it was the final step.  Nicolette needed a man who knew he’d never own her… but one that needed to own me.  And now as I kneel here and take Clyde’s long hard thick cock into my mouth, as I swirl my tongue and moan for his pleasure, I know that Nicolette has found her man. 

 

I don’t know exactly what the future will hold.  Will we move in with him?  Will he move in with us?  I just know that the boundaries are set and everybody is happy with our roles.  Nicolette has a man to love and fuck her, and a wife to love and own.  Clyde had a woman to love and fuck, and a sissy to fuck and own.  And I have a mistress wife and a master, owned by both.  

source:  fuskator