Susan Warwick was a woman who valued marriage for one reason and one reason only: it gave her a male, specially chosen for his weak and submissive demeanour, to dominate and humiliate. She had been like that from childhood, looking for ways to hurt boys and make them cry. Now, in married life, it was her obsession.

"Stand still and stop fidgeting," she ordered as Ian Warwick pressed his knees one way then the other in his sheer fright. "Dip your chin into the bow of your dress for me while I comb your hair."

Her husband did as he was told, as always, his pulse racing at the ordeal ahead of him. "Susan, please can we turn round and go home again?" he wheedled as his blond curls were combed through and his eyebrows were moistened and smoothed by his wife's thumb.

"Don't be so soft! You're here to meet my friend Millie and her husband, and we are going to swap you over. I really want to play with that wanker of a husband she has sissified, and you are going to be dressed and looked after by her. Simples!"

Ian snorted with dismay as his sobs burst out and his hands came up to comfort his cheeks. It was then that the door opened and Millie Jones was there, holding a desperately humiliated ex-male beside her. If it was any comfort to Ian, David Jones looked ten times more pathetic than he did. But he still had to face being seen and laughed at by the awfully attractive Millie.

"Isn't he so girly!" enthused the lady of the house as she pulled Ian towards her in the sitting room and stood him in front of her to take in this vision of sissy de-sexing.

"His Mother-In-Law picked out his dress," giggled Susan as she took Millie's husband to her chair and sat down so that her eyes were able to look under his petticoats and see his panties in deep pink chiffon.

"It's a beautiful dress," commented Millie as she sat down too. "Do you feel lovely in your dress Ian pet?" she queried, looking up at him from under her dark lashes.

"Y-Yes Miss Millie," he ventured. Proper answers were required at all times.

"Why do you feel lovely in your dress, darling?"

He felt the redness rising from his chin to his hair. "B-Because it's a p-p-pink party dress, Miss Millie and - it makes me feel like a girl."

"It's a LITTLE girl's dress isn't it? Look at the pretty ribbon bows making it look so pretty."

He knew she was right - and had to admit it. "Yes Miss Millie, I'm a little girl - in my dress. I feel so sweet and dainty with pink buttons down the front."

"Yes," grinned his tormentress, "and it's so short, like little girls wear. Well today you are going to be MY little girl and we're going to try on lots of different dresses with soft petticoats for you to feel very feminine. Won't that be nice?"

He bowed his head into his ribbon bow again. "Y-Yes M-Miss Millie. Thank you."

Susan had been watching approvingly, all the while holding David by the hand while fingering the stiffness of the erection in his panties. The young husband was all but bursting out with a moan of suppressed ecstasy as she fondled him, but he was able to hold his breath and control it. "Well we are going to say Goodbye," she said, "because I'm going to look after you, my little girl David. I'm going to take you to Ian's Mother-In-Law's house where she is waiting for us to arrive, along with a Friend of ours, Karen, who wants to see Susan's sissy husband." She looked up into his face to test his reaction. "Karen is nineteen," she said. "She likes playing with sissies who cry a lot when she is teasing them."

His face puckered and the first tears welled over and ran down his cheeks.

"Ha, ha, ha, I think you ARE going to cry a lot, aren't you, sweetikins?" and she slipped her hand round the back of his panties to feel the smooth plumpness of his bottom cheeks. "Come on then. I've got a very nice sissy coat in pink mohair to put you in, pet. It won't cover all your dress, but you will look ever so cute in it, like a nice girl should."

She led him to the door, where they turned and waved goodbye to her husband Ian, whose face was a picture of misery as it hung into the frills at his neck in desperate embarrassment in front of Millie.

"I'm going to take you upstairs to my bedroom, Ian," she said as the others had disappeared. "That's where the baby girl closets are for dressing cry-baby sissies and de-sexed husbands in dresses and precious lingerie."

As they climbed the stairs holding hands amid the rustles of Ian's dress and petticoats, she took every opportunity to peer up into his downcast face and show him how amused she was by his shameful submissiveness. "I'm looking forward to putting you into my bras and panties, Ian," she said, "and seeing if you cry when I fasten you up into pretty petticoats."

She understood him well. Like her own husband, he dreaded having his nose rubbed in his girlishness, but he was such a weakling, constantly on the edge of tears and suffering from fragile nerves. As he stood in the plush bedroom with its massive double bed in chiffon and lace drapes with satin pillows and cushions, he lost a bit more of his self-control by letting his anxieties come out in whimpers and grumbles. His dress was removed, followed by his petticoats. He stood in Susan's bra and panties, crossing his fingers over as much of his erection as he could hide, until Millie smacked away his hands so that she could see his unwonted excitement.

"I think my little girl can't wait to wear his Mistress's panties, isn't that right, Ian. Tell me the truth."

She was right and he couldn't deny it. His dickie was aching to see which panties she would pick for him to wear for her. "Oh yes, Miss Millie," he confessed. "I want you to p-p-put me into your nicest, softest pair of ladies' panties - please. Oh sob - sob - sob!"

Millie obliged, and drew open her panty drawer to watch his face.

"Ohhhh!" he exclaimed, clasping his cheeks and squirming with girlishness, "all your wonderful pantiesssss, Miss Millie."

"You love them don't you, darling, and I'm going to pull these delicious feminine panties in white satin up your legs, because your dickie wants to feel - "