MAID FOR HER DILDO! Olga strapped the stiff rubber dildo about her waist. She used a tight leather skirt to hold it flat against her belly. She planned to take her husband in the kitchen; but he wasn't wearing a skirt! Olga stalked angrily into the kitchen. As usual HE was washing the dishes..but that was not enough for Olga. She cuffed him about the head saying, "I TOLD you to wear a smock. And why aren't you wearing heels?" Alan went quite pale, he cringed as he answered, "I'm sorry. I couldn't find anything...suitable." "You're asking for a spanking," she muttered angrily as she opened a drawer and removed a black rayon smock, "Wear this..and DON'T wear pants!" And she threw the shiny black smock at him. Mike caught the frock like garment and bit his lower lip. Their eyes met..and she challenged him to refuse. He lowered his eyes and remained silent. Olga grinned at this mute surrender. This was a subtle power-game..and power excited her. "Well hurry-up! And wear those old white shoes of mine!" Olga slapped his buttocks and shoved him away. Mike blushed but scurried to the bedroom. He stripped and stepped into the rayon overall. Fortunately it was front button fastening. He fastened the five white buttons and belatedly noticed the nipped-in waist and the pre-shaped bodice. The girlish smock emphasized his naturally wide hips and full round buttocks. It was only now he realized how tight the skirt was. But there was no time to worry about that now. He found the old pair of high heels. Three-inch white court shoes. Hurrying back to the kitchen, the tight skirt clamping his knees and thighs together, he was forced to MINCE like a girl. Olga watched him from the doorway. He was flushed and red faced, the tight black smock-dress flattered his neat round bottom and girlish hips. The high heels showed off his long smooth legs to perfection. He looked shy, scared, vulnerable and...very, very pretty! She pointed at him with a frown. "I can see right through that skirt!" Alan almost dropped the plate he was holding. He hadn't heard her come in. He looked down, the sheer material did look almost transparent in the sunlight from the window. And the word SKIRT echoed in his mind. "You go upstairs and put one of my slips on, I'll finish off down here." Alan licked his lip. The whole situation was getting out of control. He hesitated, he was on the point of questioning her... until he saw her smile turn to a frown. "Do you actually WANT me to spank you!" She asked. He dropped his eyes and ran awkwardly from the kitchen. In the bedroom Alan emptied the contents of her drawers on the bed. She had dozens of slips and petticoats, but most would be too big for him. In desperation he looked for some of her older stuff. He found a snow white one that was in reasonable condition, a tailored nylon full slip with an opera top. He unbuttoned his shiny nylon smock with a sigh. It would have to do. Shoving his arms through the thin satin shoulder straps he pulled the slip over his head. The long skirted slip slid deliciously down over his naked body. Alan shivered...and his palms slid over his tummy...how good it felt! He had to adjust the tiny buckles of the shoulder straps.., but otherwise it was a good close fit. In fact it clung to his wide womanly hips and full girlish buttocks molding his figure into new and disturbing contours. He hesitated for a moment when considering the matching knickers. The truth was he found he wanted to wear them. Hurriedly, almost feverishly he drew them up his bare thighs. He stepped into the skirt of the smock...its skirt slid smoothly over his skirted thighs and rump... and he buttoned himself up with a fearful excitement. Looking down he saw that the slip was a fraction longer than the overall. A hem of white lace peeped seductively from under his skirt! He considered changing when he heard her shout. He rushed downstairs. Olga watched him walk in. The tailored, clinging smock with its tight skirt, the inch of frothy lace at its hem, the high heels...suddenly he looked like a young housewife! Taking him in her arms she kissed him. Her palms gripped his buttocks through the smooth nylon skirt. "You look lovely. I like seeing you nice and pretty." She kissed him softly. She placed his palm over her tight skirt..and he felt the jutting bulge of her dildo! His whole body seemed to melt. He sagged weakly against her. He was boneless and doll-like. She turned him around and pushed him face down over the back of the couch. Alan began to shiver with anticipation. He closed his eyes and waited nervously. Olga tugged her dildo free from her short skirt. She used the palms of her hands to shove his skirt upwards. Tugging his knickers down she leaned over her trembling feminized husband. Her hands cupped his small breasts, she worked her hips until the dildo was nudging between his pale plum girlish thighs. "I want you to be my wife!" She told him. Alan felt a hot rush of shame. The tip of the dildo slid between his thighs in a bizarre parody of the sex act. In and out...in and out! His legs and thighs began to shake. But he ENJOYED it! "Yes," He breathed, "Oh yes, yes, yes!" Minutes later she shuddered convulsively and pulled away from him. Alan didn't know what to say. They ate breakfast in silence. But he had to admit; it was a comfortable, domestic silence despite her promise to punish him. And he experienced a strange satisfaction when he saw the sly admiring glances she threw his way. Afterwards Alan cleared the table and went to the kitchen. Olga picked up her newspaper and called after him. "Just a minute, let me fix your lips." He stood mute with embarrassment as Olga calmly opened her purse, took out a tube of lipstick, twisted the creamy red lipstick out...and applied a thick coat to both of his trembling lips! His lips felt like they belonged to someone else! They were thicker, heavier...different. His eyes stung with unshed tears..was she deliberately trying to embarrass him? Olga ignored his obvious shame, she patted his bottom. "That's much better, now run along, there's a good girl." He turned to go knowing his face was on fire; but once more she called after him. "Gloves, Alan, don't ruin your hands. Try the white ones." Alan pulled the white rubber gloves on. He piled the dirty pots into the sink. He worked for a while before he was aware of her presence. The hairs at the back of his head rose. He felt a curious breathless excitement. Was she going to take him..as she had done the previous day? He looked at her over his shoulder, he fluttered his long eyelashes, pouted his red painted mouth. Olga was transfixed. He's flirting with me! She thought. The little hussy! Wordlessly she handed him a white frilly nylon apron. Alan frowned. Surely he didn't need an apron he was already wearing a smock. "But...why?" He protested, his opened arms to display his overall. She just smiled, "Because it will look pretty..and because I WANT you to wear it!" Alan felt the sting of hot tears at the back of his eyelids. He blinked. Looked away. His hand accepted the silky smooth apron. Olga noticed how easily he tied it around his waist, the movements casual, practiced. And it did look pretty, the shiny white apron set off the tight black skirt. With his white gloves and white shoes he looked sensational. Olga's eyes crawled over him. She could see the faint outline of his lacy slip through the thin rayon top of his overall. She had never before felt such excitement; such power..and now she would use her power. "You look like a maid..why not curtsey...to me...your Mistress!" Mike felt hot tears of shame roll down his cheeks. He obeyed and scurried away. But she followed him. And leaned against him. Mike felt his ears go red. But he said nothing. She reached her hands around him..and taking his wrists she tied them to the taps of the sink. She felt his body stiffen..but he knew better than to resist her! He looked at her over his shoulder..saw the flushed cheeks and the glittering eyes. He felt her hands on his skirt... she was sliding it higher...exposing his buttocks! With her eyes still on him she raised her skirt and petticoat and tugged her knickers down. Alan watched with a sick fascination. And then he saw it. She was wearing a dildo! He shook his head and his whole body started to shake. He felt his knickers being tugged down...she pressed her lower body against him..and he felt the first hesitant stab of the dildo! "You are a woman now darling!" She whispered as she jerked herself into him. "And a woman endures!" He was at the sink..washing the dirty dishes. And when she walked through the door wearing her leather skirt and her knee high leather boots he knew he was in for a shock! Her voice is like a whip..and he goes pale. "Kneel down before me." She told him. Alan never even thought about refusing; her hold over him was absolute. He had to hold onto the edge of the kitchen sink to get onto his knees wearing such a tight skirt and high heels. He stared at the floor as she approached. His eyes locked onto the hem of his apron. Her black shiny boots came into view. Her hand clawed his hair, and twisted. Alan moaned softly. She forced him to look up at her. Her face was flushed, gloating, and exultant. "List my skirt. DO IT!" She whispers thickly. Alan swallows and reaches out. The stiff black hem of her leather skirt is pushed upwards. Her meaty thighs were only inches from his face. The heady aroma of her lust was overpowering. Her thighs parted in unmistakable invitation. Alan's lips grazed her thigh. Red lipstick was imprinted on the ivory smooth whiteness of her thigh. A tremor raced through her. Alan kissed the other thigh feeling her shudder. The sight of his cupid bow lipstick imprint on her thigh hypnotized him! Her voice was soft, but insistent. "You are dressed like a servant. You ARE my servant. You will serve and obey me forever!" And Alan answered her in a soft girlish lisp. "Yes Mistress. I am a maid. I will serve and obey you...always!" Half an hour later he joined her. He had wiped his face of smudged lipstick. He had removed his rubber gloves. He sat next to her and said softly. "Where is all this leading Olga? What do you want from me?" She stared at him as though he were a stranger. For a long while she said nothing. Then. "Don't be stupid Alan. Tell me ... what are you wearing?" Alan blushed. Then angrily. "Listen, all this was your.." "You're wearing a frock!" She cut him off. "Aren't you?" He worried his lip fretfully. Stared at the tight skirt of his overall. Olga continued relentlessly. "Tell me what you are wearing underneath!" Her fingers flipped open the top two buttons of the overall. His lace and nylon slip was revealed. Tears stung Alan's eyes as she jeered. "A petticoat, a lacy petticoat! And what else are you wearing...husband dear? High heels!" Hot tears of shame rolled down Alan's cheeks. He shook his head. Words would not come. Olga flicked the hem of the frilly apron. "What's this...an apron, is my husband wearing a frilly apron over his frock?" Sobs wracked him as she continued to taunt. "And he's wearing lipstick. Red lipstick..oh how cute! Is that what a husband wears? No, of course not. So, tell me, are you the wife? Are you a pretty housewife?" Alan shook his head violently and wiped his eyes. "No? But don't you do all the housework? You wear skirts don't you? Alan nodded. She continued relentlessly. "And you chose that beautiful lace petticoat didn't you?" When he remained silent she screamed. "DIDN'T YOU?" He almost whimpered, "Yes...I chose it." She sneered, "So you wear housewife's clothes and you do housewife work..but you say you are not the wife?" Alan shook his head miserably. Olga took hold of his chin, pulled his head up and thrust her own chin forward aggressively. "When we were in bed last night...who was the wife?" Her eyes burned into his, he could not look away. Alan closed his eyes and whispered in agony. "I was...I was the wife...I am the..I'm your wife." His words seemed to hang in the air for an age. Olga was filled with an unholy joy. She felt savagely triumphant. He was her slave. "Then I won't call you Alan anymore. What should it be...Alice? Should I call you Alice?" He nodded. ...Olga's palm dipped inside the partly open overall. She stroked his nipple through the silky nylon slip. "Feel those nipples go hard. These are girl's breasts. You really should be wearing a bra. Would you like that Alice. Would you like to wear a brassiere?" He felt weak and he almost sobbed, "If that is what you want." He answered. She was smiling now, "Alright Alice, you go upstairs. Find one of my prettiest brassieres, choose a pair of my sexiest knickers, and then come back here to me...nothing else....just wear knickers, bra, and high heels, understand?" He nodded slowly, his eyes filled with tears. "Yes. I understand." Olga watched him leave. Her mind raced with the possibilities. A she-male husband cum housewife! An obedient and slavish sex kitten! She almost purred with delight. Suddenly he was standing before her. In her living room her husband stood wearing her best white satin and lace bra and matching satin knickers! "I think Alice, that you should draw the curtains," Olga said hoarsely, as she undressed, "we don't want to upset the neighbors do we?" He obeyed..and when she dragged his weak and pliant form over her lap..he simply went limp in her arms. When she tugged at his knickers..when she started to smack and spank him..he simply cried..like a girl! SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK.