Translation carried out with the help of AI, a couple with a routine sexual life goes to a sexologist's office
Hi again, my dear readers. I'm sorry I've been away for so long. I had some serious issues with my computer's hard drives. First they started failing, then I bought a cheap Chinese one that didn't work, and finally I had to buy a new one. To make matters worse, I was working on a story and had almost finished polishing it when my PC crashed (I still don't know why). Although I managed to recover most of my files, the one I was working on was completely lost.
I decided to rewrite the story from scratch. The outline and plot are the same, but when you rewrite something, some details always get left behind while new ideas emerge. The story always turns out a little different.
In this case, I tried to make the plot a bit more realistic. After all, a woman doesn't turn into a dominatrix overnight just because she browsed a few forums, and a man doesn't suddenly accept being feminized after wearing a chastity device for a week. In reality, something like using a chastity cage should be consensual within the couple.
This story is precisely about that. Both characters have fantasies that may even be unconscious until they start exploring new sexual alternatives, and little by little, those fantasies awaken.
I hope you like it. As always, I look forward to your comments and suggestions—they help me improve. And of course, if you have any fantasy you'd like me to turn into a story, just let me know. I'd be delighted.
Ana Raquel
Couple's Therapy
Chapter I – The Crisis
Juan and Emilia were a couple in their mid-forties, financially comfortable. Juan was a manager at a large multinational. He was slim, pale, and only about 5'7" tall. You'd never guess he held a position of authority at work. Yet, it was common for him to come home at night and vent to his wife.
"I'm so tired of constantly having to fight to push my ideas through, always watching my back, knowing that some ambitious climber is just waiting for me to slip up so he can take me down and steal my job."
His wife tried to comfort him: "Relax, honey. You've been at the company for twenty years. You started as an intern and look where you are now. You're really good at what you do."
"I know, I know my own abilities. The problem is that instead of focusing on the truly important stuff, I spend half my time babysitting everyone else, and it exhausts me."
His wife, on the other hand, worked from home developing software for individual clients. She was the same age and height as her husband. Physically, she was voluptuous—large, prominent breasts, wide hips, and beautiful legs—all of which she hid under loose clothing that concealed her figure.
"My clients expect professionalism," she used to tell her husband. "That's the image I try to project. I don't want them staring at my tits; I want them looking at the demo I've prepared."
After listening to her husband as she had so many times before and trying to reassure him, she would usually start with her own complaints: "At least you get to assert yourself. I wish I could do that. Instead, I'm forced to accept every ridiculous request my clients make."
"'I don't like the color of the icons, change them to blue,'" she would imitate in a whiny voice, mimicking one of her most important clients.
"I wish I could just scream in their faces: 'Look at the data flow, understand that this app solves your inventory problem and stop asking for stupid shit.'"
"It seems like we're both exhausted," her husband would say. "But now we're alone and we can enjoy each other's company."
The truth was that their two children had recently moved out to live on their own.
"For the last twenty years we've been focused on our careers and raising the kids. Now we finally have the chance to enjoy ourselves. We're alone, we have a good financial situation, and the whole house is ours," Juan told his wife.
"You say that like it's a second honeymoon."
"Exactly, that's the idea."
You could say they were made for each other. They shared the same taste in books and cooking, and they enjoyed spending time together. It was common for one of them to cook while the other read a ***********ed text aloud.
The only problem was in the sexual department. What they thought would become an exciting adventure—trying new positions in every room of the house—had actually turned into a monotonous routine that could discourage anyone.
Their sex life was limited to Saturday nights. After dinner, they'd watch a movie they both agreed on, then go to bed almost as if it were an obligation.
Emilia would start playing with Juan's cock. He'd get on top of her in the missionary position, and after just a few minutes he'd have his orgasm and pull out.
Then he'd start masturbating Emilia, rubbing her clit with his finger until she came.
And that was it. All that remained was a kiss, a "good night," and waiting until the following Saturday.
Until one night, instead of rolling over and going to sleep, Emilia said: "This can't go on like this. We're still young. Why can't we enjoy sex?"
"It's not that I don't enjoy it. I think we're mature now and it doesn't turn us on the way it did when we first got married."
"Remember our honeymoon? We used to do it up to three times a day. Why is it so mechanical now, and only once a week?"
"I don't know. We have other things now—our kids, we enjoy each other's company, we're always looking for ways to be together. Isn't that also part of being a couple?"
"Yes, of course, but without sexual attraction, what are we? Just friends?"
"I don't see you as a friend. Quite the opposite."
"We're going to have to do something. I have a referral for a sexologist. First thing Monday morning, I'll try to book an appointment."
"A sexologist? What for? Is she going to teach us new positions?"
"That's not how a sexologist works. Let's go see her. In the worst case, we lose nothing."
"Alright, whatever you want," Juan replied. After all, when his wife got something into her head, there was no way to talk her out of it.
On Monday, Juan was in his office when he received a call from his wife: "I got us an appointment for today at 6:00 PM."
"That fast?" he answered. "Are you sure she's any good? It doesn't inspire much confidence if she has availability on such short notice. Her schedule must be empty."
"On the contrary, she has almost a month-long waiting list. We got lucky—one couple canceled at the last minute."
"Fine, we'll do it your way. I'll pick you up at home and we'll go see this woman to hear what she has to say."
That afternoon, Juan picked up his wife for the appointment. He found her in her studio working on a project for her latest client. As usual, she greeted him with a complaint:
"What do you think of this? I made an app so this idiot could track his merchandise in real time, and the only thing he can say is 'I don't like that button, can you change it?' He didn't even pay attention to all the advantages the software will give him. It's always the same."
"I understand you're frustrated. Remember the saying: 'The customer is always right.'"
"Whatever. Let's go already, or we'll be late."
They got in the car and headed to the office of Licenciada Silvia Gutierrez. When they arrived, they were greeted by a middle-aged woman dressed professionally in a black knee-length skirt, a white blouse, and a very polished appearance.
"Good afternoon, nice to meet you both. Please come in and take a seat."
"Nice to meet you, Licenciada," Emilia replied.
They sat in three executive-style chairs with a small table between them and the therapist.
"Before we begin, I need to ask you some standard questions." She started inquiring about their ages, children, jobs, etc., noting everything down in a folder she kept on her lap.
Once she had finished with the personal information, she said: "Alright, now tell me what brings you here."
Emilia began explaining how they had suddenly found themselves alone in a huge house. What they thought would become an exciting new chapter had turned into unbearable monotony. Juan chimed in from time to time with comments or additional details he considered important.
"Well, from what I can see, there isn't a serious underlying problem. Your relationship is fluid, you complement each other, and most importantly, neither of you tries to dominate the other. I think the main issue is that your life changed drastically overnight, and now you don't know what to do with it."
"That's true," Juan commented. "For the last twenty years we've been focused on the kids and our careers."
"That's exactly the problem," Emilia continued. "Now we've achieved professional success and our kids have moved out. So why can't we go back to being like we were when we first got married?"
"That's where the issue lies," the therapist replied. "Because you're not newlyweds anymore. You can't turn back time and pick up the routine from twenty years ago. You need new goals, new projects. That time you’re describing is in the past. It's part of your memories, but you can't relive it."
"So we should just settle for what we have?" Juan asked.
"Not at all. Look, I'm going to send you the link to a well-categorized explicit content website."
"That's your advice?" Emilia asked, somewhat disappointed. "That we watch porn to get turned on?"
"Don't rush. Let me finish. This site has a very good categorization system. What I want you to do is explore the different categories, watch the various practices, and research them."
"And then?" Juan asked.
"The exercise I propose is this: each of you, separately, will make a list of the five categories that attract you the most or that you think might be interesting. Then, on Friday, I want to see you with your lists. We'll look at what activities appeal to both of you and create a common list."
"See you on Friday then, Licenciada?"
"See you Friday. Each of you with your list, and we'll see where you agree and where you don't."
Not entirely convinced about the results of making lists, they left the office. Nevertheless, after dinner that night, each went their own way—Emilia to her studio and Juan to the living room with his laptop—to explore the suggested site.
The exploration lasted the entire week. Finally, on Friday, when they returned to the consultation, each had a printed sheet with the practices that had caught their attention the most.
"Alright," the therapist said. "Emilia, can you read me your list?"
Emilia took the sheet of paper and began to read:
1. Domination / Submission
2. Unconscious Hypnosis
3. Forced Chastity
4. Feminization
5. Anal Sex
"Juan, do you have any doubts about your wife's list?"
"I'm not entirely clear on what 'Unconscious Hypnosis' means, and feminization really caught my attention."
"From what I researched, unconscious hypnosis isn't the classic pendulum method where the subject goes into a trance. It's more like subtle suggestion—a whispered word in your ear while I caress you. A softer induction that proposes things while you're in an aroused state. Is that correct, Licenciada?"
"You described it perfectly. The hypnotist doesn't put the subject into a deep trance. Instead, they seduce, request, and convince the person to do certain things."
"That clears it up. I'm still confused about the feminization fantasy," Juan said.
"It's not that I want you to go all the way," his wife replied. "I'd like you to get in touch with your feminine side, to see things from my point of view. Besides, I think you'd look really good in stockings and heels."
"I have no problem with your list then."
"And you, Juan? Please read us your list."
Juan took the sheet from his jacket pocket and began to read:
1. Domination / Submission
2. Forced Chastity
3. Anal Sex
4. Fetishism
5. Bondage
"Fetishism? Typical man," Emilia replied.
"Well, you know I love high heels, corsets, stockings... and like you said, I think they'd look spectacular on you."
"I see you both included forced chastity. What attracts you about it, Juan?" the therapist asked.
"From what I researched, it creates a very strong emotional bond with whoever holds the key. And they say that when you're finally released, the orgasms are much more intense."
"Perfect. I see there are no objections to either list. Here's what we'll do: take one week to prepare. Buy whatever items you think you'll need to carry out these practices. Then we'll start what we can call 'Juan's Week.' During the first week, Juan will decide what activities you do. At the end of the week, you'll both discuss how you felt, what you liked, what you don't want to repeat, etc. Remember that communication is essential."
"And then?" Emilia asked.
"Then comes what we can call 'Emilia's Week.' The roles will reverse, and she'll be the one deciding what happens and how. Once again, at the end of the week, you'll discuss your feelings."
"And that's it?" Juan said.
"No, that's just the beginning. After that, you'll keep alternating weeks, incorporating new practices or perfecting the ones you liked most. You'll discover many new things about each other and develop a whole new dynamic. If you have any doubts or conflicts at any point, schedule another appointment and we'll adjust accordingly."
Not entirely convinced, but willing to follow the therapist's plan, they spent the following week buying the items each considered necessary. They searched catalogs independently and made online purchases. Every day new packages arrived and were stored in the basement.
Juan, seeing the growing pile of boxes, even had a moment of doubt, suspecting they were buying duplicate items. When he mentioned it to Emilia with the intention of comparing their shopping lists, she refused outright, arguing that it would ruin the surprise. In the worst case, a few duplicate items wouldn't hurt their budget.
Over the weekend, right before "Juan's Week" began, they used the now-empty children's rooms to organize everything. They put all of Emilia's purchases in one room and all of Juan's boxes in the other.
Chapter II – Juan's Week
Monday night arrived, and they were ready to begin. Each went to their assigned room. Juan stripped and put on a complicated leather harness that served no purpose other than giving him a BDSM look. He added a leather jockstrap that barely covered his genitals and finally a latex mask with openings only for his eyes and mouth.
This was a concession he made to his wife, since she had said, "If I'm going to wear the clothes you want, at least you have to play your part."
Once ready, he went to the master bedroom, sat in the chair by the window, and waited. He knew she would take much longer to get ready.
After some time, the door opened slowly and she walked in. When he saw her, he was practically paralyzed. She looked stunning. She wore a similar latex mask to his, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail through a hole at the back. Her eyes were accentuated with dark shadow, and her red lips stood out against the black of the mask.
Her arms were covered almost to the shoulders by long latex gloves. A black leather corset cinched her waist, while the bra barely contained half of her breasts. Eight garter straps descended from the corset to hold up a pair of black nylon stockings. She completed the outfit with a pair of black shoes with an impossible twelve-centimeter stiletto heel.
When Juan finally recovered his voice, he stood up: "You look beautiful."
"Thank you. Is this what you wanted?"
"Much more than I expected. Come here." He took her by the arm and led her to the bed.
As she lay on her back, he secured her arms and legs spread-eagle with Velcro straps he had prepared beforehand. Once she was immobilized, he began to caress her. He pulled down the cups of her bra and played with her nipples, nibbling gently. He slowly moved downward until he reached her pussy and started kissing it. Hearing her moans, he stopped and placed a ball gag in her mouth.
"So I don't get distracted," he told her.
Then he took a small vibrator and began applying it to her clit while continuing to kiss her entrance. Her moans grew louder through the gag. She tried to move, but the restraints prevented it.
Juan knew she was close to orgasm. He stopped, waited a moment, and then started stimulating her clit again. He repeated this process several times, bringing her to the edge and then pausing. When he finally allowed her to cum, he didn't stop. He kept kissing and applying the vibrator.
He had been researching, and some women were capable of multiple orgasms. Of course, it depended on many factors, but he hoped Emilia was one of them.
He had decided that for the first day, he would focus entirely on her. Now that he thought she was satisfied, he began masturbating while looking at her body, feeling the brush of her stockings against his skin, until he finally came on her crotch.
He then released her—first the Velcro straps and then the gag.
"It was incredible. I really enjoyed it," he told his wife.
"You bastard," she replied. "You kept me right on the edge. I thought you weren't going to let me cum, and when I finally did, you didn't stop. You kept going. I lost count of how many orgasms I had."
"So you liked it?"
"Did I like it? If my legs weren't shaking, I'd be ready to start again right now."
That was the first day. Throughout the rest of the week, Juan tried to increase the intensity by adding new toys and practices, although the pattern remained more or less the same: he would tie her to the bed, gag her, and then introduce some new activity. For example:
- On Tuesday, after playing for a while and lubing her up, he inserted an anal plug while penetrating her vaginally.
- On Wednesday, he reversed the game and fucked her anally while using a vibrator on her clit.
- On Thursday, he didn't use the gag and ordered her to give him a blowjob, finishing on her face.
- On Friday, he repeated it but came in her mouth.
- On Saturday, it was more of the same, combining some of the week's activities. He fucked her anally and then came in her mouth.
Although their sex life had changed 180 degrees compared to two weeks earlier, Juan couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing—perhaps a bit more creativity.
Emilia seemed pleased, and it was true that her orgasms were more intense. However, he felt like he was trapped in yet another routine. Tying her to the bed and gagging her had become the new habit. It was possible that his imagination wasn't fertile enough to create new scenarios, and he was limited to repeating the same things over and over.
Chapter III – Emilia's Week
The week started normally. They had breakfast together, then Juan went to work while Emilia locked herself in her studio, supposedly to continue with her projects.
It wasn't a very productive day for her. She spent the entire time imagining the encounter that night, going over the outfit she had chosen and the things she planned to do with her husband—the steps she would take, his reactions, and how the evening would unfold during her week.
After dinner, each went to change in their assigned room. When she opened the door to the master bedroom, she found her husband already ready, waiting for her on the bed.
"We're not doing anything here tonight. Come on, we're going to the basement," she said, taking him by the hand and leading him.
Juan, once he caught his breath after seeing her, stood up and followed her obediently.
She had transformed into a complete Goddess. Her outfit was similar to the previous week, but the corset was more structured, and her breasts looked like they were about to spill out of the bra. She wasn't wearing the latex mask. Instead, her hair was tied in a high ponytail. Her makeup was intense and dark, giving her a feline look.
The basement, he thought. It's practically abandoned—we've been using it as storage for ages. He was surprised when he followed her down the stairs and saw that it had been completely transformed. Obviously, she had used the previous week—while he was at the office—to furnish the space.
In one corner there was a simple double bed. In the center of the room stood a wooden chair with a high back. What caught his attention most was that one wall was covered with all kinds of items: gags, handcuffs, dildos of every size and shape, and some objects whose purpose he couldn't even guess.
"Welcome to my playroom. Come, sit here," she said, pointing to the chair.
Not knowing what to say, he simply followed her instructions. Once he was seated, she took a pair of metal handcuffs and secured his wrists behind the chair's backrest.
He heard her walk away, the sound of her heels echoing on the concrete floor. She picked something up from the wall full of toys, approached him from behind, and whispered in his ear while removing his mask: "We won't need this today. However, we are going to try something new."
As soon as the latex mask was removed, a leather blindfold covered his eyes. "That's much better. I wouldn't want your sight to distract you. Today I want you to focus on your other senses."
Where had she gotten that voice from? She must have been practicing. It was soft, sensual, with a slow cadence. Her words enveloped him, her voice aroused him. Now he finally understood what unconscious hypnosis meant—completely lucid, yet entirely at the mercy of her suggestions.
"Do you trust me?" she asked.
"Yes, Emilia."
"From now on, I'm not Emilia. You will call me Mistress or Ma'am. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"We're learning. Now again—do you trust me?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Will you do what I ask?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Do you promise to be a good boy?"
"Yes, Mistress."
While whispering these words in his ear, she began playing with his nipples, pinching them lightly.
"Do you like this?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Do you want me to continue? What will you do for me so I keep going?"
"Whatever you want, Mistress."
"Anything?"
"Absolutely anything."
"You forgot to say 'Mistress.' I'll let it slide for now, but I hope it doesn't happen again. Clear?"
"I'm sorry, Mistress. It won't happen again."
"Good boy. And if I do this, do you like it?" she asked as she began to stroke his cock slowly.
"I like it very much, Mistress."
"Should I keep going?"
"Please, Mistress."
"But you have to do something in return. A little favor."
"Whatever you want, Mistress."
He was completely desperate. She was masturbating him very slowly, bringing him closer and closer to the edge and stopping just before he came, all while speaking in that soft, sensual voice. He would have done anything she asked just to keep her going.
He heard her heels clicking away again as she walked off, picked something up, and returned.
"Raise your left leg."
He obeyed immediately and almost instantly felt a nylon stocking sliding up his leg to his thigh.
"Now the other leg, please."
Another nylon stocking went up his other leg. Then a pair of hands caressed his legs, moving from his ankles up to his crotch, where she began masturbating him again.
"The stockings look very pretty on you. However, I'd like to ask you a favor."
"Whatever you desire, Mistress."
"Good boy. I want you to shave your entire body tomorrow—completely smooth. Will you do that?"
"Tomorrow I will present myself completely hairless, Mistress."
He then felt the warmth of her breath on his cock. He thought she was going to give him oral sex, but no. At the last moment she stopped and continued breathing on him while slowly stroking.
When she felt the first contractions, she stopped all movement. He ended up ejaculating purely by reflex, without feeling the satisfaction of a real orgasm. Later he learned this was called a "ruined orgasm." He had been brought to the edge, and right at the last second the stimulation stopped. He ejaculated, but it was completely unsatisfying.
"What are we going to do with this?" she asked.
With his eyes blindfolded, he didn't even know what she was referring to. He soon found out when she said, "I know—lick my gloves."
He obeyed and immediately tasted his own cum from her hands.
Once again he heard her heels walking away, picking something up from the wall, and returning.
"There's one small detail missing. Would you do something for me?" she whispered again in his ear.
"Yes, Mistress. Anything."
"Good boy. I brought you a gift, as a reward for behaving so well."
He felt her move in front of him. She took his now-soft cock and placed something on it. Then he heard the click of something locking.
She removed the blindfold and said, "Ta-da!"
He then confirmed what he had already suspected—she had put him in a chastity device.
"This is staying on for the rest of the week," she announced.
"Yes, Mistress. As you wish."
She then released him from the handcuffs, took his hand, and said, "Now we're going to sleep."
"But I can't stay like this."
"That's the second time you've forgotten how to address me. I don't think you want to find out what happens if you forget a third time. Since it's the first night, I'll let it slide."
"Yes, Mistress."
"Now let's go to sleep. And keep the stockings on. They look very pretty on you."
They went to bed. He had trouble falling asleep, partly due to the frustration and partly because of the sensation of the stockings rubbing against the bedsheets. One thing he had learned that night: Emilia was much more creative than he was.
The next morning he got up and went to take a shower. On the bathroom shelf he found a jar of hair removal cream that he was sure he'd never seen before. He suspected his wife had left it there on purpose.
He read the instructions: "Apply a layer to the area to be depilated, wait ten to fifteen minutes, then rinse with warm water."
He followed the directions, applying the cream to his entire body, leaving only a small triangle around his chastity device. With some fear, he even applied it around his anus and on his testicles.
When he got out of the shower and looked in the mirror, he said to himself: "Smooth as a baby's bottom."
He prepared breakfast and served it to his wife in bed, hoping to please her so that she might release him from the device that night and allow him a proper orgasm.
"Good morning, love," he said.
"Good morning," she replied, still half asleep. Then, seeing him, she added: "How nice. I like you like this, without body hair. But you forgot something."
"What? I don't think so. I applied it everywhere."
"I don't mean that. Where are the stockings?"
"I didn't put them on. I have to go to the office."
"No excuses. No one will notice anything under your suit. If you want, you can wear a pair of pantyhose—they'll be more comfortable."
Obviously, still hoping she would let him have an orgasm, he obeyed and put on a pair of natural-colored pantyhose under his suit. He hadn't anticipated, however, how incredible the sensation of nylon against his freshly shaved legs would feel. His wife was guiding him into a world of new sensations.
That night, after dinner, his wife handed him a package containing a pair of stockings: "Put these on for tonight. You don't need the mask anymore. Then wait for me directly in the basement."
He obediently changed, put on the complicated harness, adjusted the leather jockstrap over his chastity device, and once again felt a wave of pleasure from the nylon rubbing against his smooth legs.
He went down to the basement and sat patiently waiting for her arrival.
He heard the door open and looked toward the stairs. If he had been stunned the day before, today was even more so. She was wearing a very structured red corset that left her breasts practically exposed, red leather gloves that covered most of her arms, shiny natural-colored lycra pantyhose, and red thigh-high boots with an impossible twelve-centimeter heel. A red cape fell from her shoulders almost to the floor. The material of the cape wasn't leather or latex.
She approached him from behind, cuffed his wrists behind his back, and put the leather blindfold on him again. As she placed it, she said: "Today I have some new surprises. Are you ready to try them?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Will you do anything I ask?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Good boy. Wait here a moment."
As always, he heard the click of her heels on the concrete as she walked away. When she returned, she said: "Lift your left foot."
He obeyed immediately. He didn't exactly have many options to refuse.
Almost instantly, he felt a shoe being placed on his foot. "Now lift the other one."
Another shoe went on his other foot. When he stepped down, he realized they had heels. Women's shoes. This was new. How far was his wife willing to go? He thought he'd find out soon enough.
"They look very pretty," she exclaimed. "Now let's see how you walk."
She released his arms and made him stand up.
"I can't see anything. I'm going to fall and kill myself like this."
*Smack!* A sharp spank landed on his left buttock. "I warned you that you must treat me with proper respect." *Smack!* Another on the other cheek. "Are we clear?"
"I'm sorry, Mistress. It won't happen again."
"I'm sorry too. I don't like punishing you, but it's for your own good. Now start counting."
*Smack!* The spanking began, alternating cheeks, until she reached twenty.
"From my experience, your body will remember this moment, and these incidents won't happen again."
"Yes, Mistress."
"Now, enough talking." She took him by the arm and began making him walk in the heels with his eyes blindfolded, guiding him.
"One foot in front of the other. Don't step on your toes—step with your heel like you always do." She instructed him on how to walk properly.
After several laps around the basement, he was exhausted. His feet hurt from lack of practice, and he was completely disoriented from walking in circles blindfolded. She was finally satisfied.
"Pretty good. You still need a bit more sway in your hips. We'll work on that tomorrow. Now, I'll guide you to the bed."
She led him by the arm to the edge of the bed. He lay on his back, and she secured him spread-eagle with leather and Velcro straps.
"How do you feel like this?"
"I feel helpless and completely at your mercy, Mistress."
"That's the idea," she said as he felt her leather gloves running over his legs. "You know you have beautiful legs. It was an excellent idea to shave them."
Not knowing what to say, he simply replied: "Yes, Mistress."
She then removed the chastity device. After lubing his cock, she began stroking him slowly.
"Do you like that?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Do you want me to continue?"
"Yes, Mistress. Please."
"How could I refuse such a polite request?" She continued masturbating him very slowly, stopping every time he was about to cum, then starting again. This process was repeated many times, bringing him to the edge of ecstasy over and over.
Just like the day before, at a certain point he began to ejaculate and she stopped, depriving him once again of a full orgasm. She collected his cum in one of her gloved hands and offered it to him.
"Here, drink your cum and show me how obedient you are," she said as she brought her hand to his mouth.
Once again, he licked until his Mistress was satisfied.
She released him from his restraints, removed the blindfold, and said: "Now we're going to sleep. I'm exhausted."
From his previous experience, he didn't even think about complaining about not having a proper orgasm. When they reached the master bedroom, she handed him a pink silk babydoll.
"Put this on. I want you to sleep in it." She slipped the lingerie over his head.
They got into bed, and just like the night before, he had trouble falling asleep. The experiences of the day, the stockings rubbing against the sheets, the silk of the babydoll against his smooth skin—it was too many sensations at once. He felt completely overwhelmed.
Before finally falling asleep, one last thought crossed his mind: There was no doubt—Emilia was much more creative than he was. What did she have planned for tomorrow?
The next day, Juan got up. He decided to keep the babydoll and stockings on. He put on the heels, thinking he should practice a bit with them and also hoping to please his Mistress.
His Mistress... At what point had he stopped thinking of her as Emilia and started calling her Mistress in his mind? Were things changing too fast? Either way, he had to admit that in the last few days he had experienced a range of emotions he had never known before. Except for the lack of satisfying orgasms, the experience was strangely fascinating.
He prepared breakfast and brought it to her in bed on a tray: "Good morning, my love."
"Good morning. That babydoll looks so good on you. Do you like it?"
"I have to admit that the feel of the silk against my skin is very arousing. Could you please release me?"
"Not yet. Have a little patience. Be good and you'll get your reward."
"As you wish. I trust you. Now I have to go to the office."
"Don't forget to put on your pantyhose under your suit."
The rest of the day went relatively normally, except that several times he received messages from her ordering him to send photos of his caged genitals.
Each time he did, he received replies like: "How pretty. I like how it looks on you." or "How does it feel not being able to touch yourself?"
He answered all the messages, telling her he felt submissive, that he was constantly aroused, and begging her to release him.
She would reply: "Patience. It won't be long. You need to learn self-control. If you behave well, you'll get your prize."
That night, the routine repeated, except this time she gave him a new pair of shoes with five-centimeter heels. Once he got used to them, he had to practice again to adapt to the new height.
He waited for her sitting in the basement chair. When the door opened and he saw her descending the stairs, he was stunned once again. Did her wardrobe never end? This time she was wearing a full latex catsuit that covered her from neck to feet, including her hands and arms. She also wore thigh-high boots with a twelve-centimeter heel.
As always, she approached him from behind. While nibbling on his ear, she whispered: "Today I'm not going to tie you up. I want to watch you walk."
She helped him stand up and told him to walk around the basement.
"Not bad. You still need more sway. Let's see if we can fix that."
She had him place his hands on the back of the chair, exposing his ass. Then she began caressing the entrance of his anus with her fingers—first with gentle movements, then slowly inserting one finger, lubing him up, before inserting a finger again and playing with his entrance.
"Do you like it?"
"It's strange, Mistress. I'm not used to it, but I like it."
"You'll get used to it," she replied as she continued stretching him.
When she was satisfied with how relaxed he had become, she took a small plug, lubed it, and began inserting it.
"It's very big, Mistress," he said, hoping to stop her.
"It's the smallest one I have. Don't act like a little girl," she replied as she continued slowly pushing it in.
Once the plug was firmly inside him, she said: "There. See? It wasn't that hard."
"No, Mistress."
"Now walk."
He began walking in circles around the basement under her watchful eye.
"Much better. Keep practicing."
"Thank you, Mistress."
"Tomorrow we'll increase the size of the plug and the height of the heels."
He lost count of the laps and the time that passed until he finally couldn't take it anymore. His feet hurt, he felt the pressure of the plug stimulating him, and the initial discomfort had given way to a strange new pleasure.
"Come lie down on the bed." He obeyed. Just like the previous day, she secured him spread-eagle, removed the chastity device, and began masturbating him slowly, bringing him to the edge and stopping, over and over. The process was repeated many times until he finally began to ejaculate.
As on all previous nights, she stopped, ruining his orgasm once again. She collected his cum on one of her latex-gloved hands and offered it to him.
He obediently, knowing what was expected without needing to be told, began licking the latex-covered hand. "Drink it. That's it. Lick my fingers as if they were a little cock."
When her gloves were completely clean, she looked satisfied. While putting the chastity device back on him, she said: "You've behaved very well. If you keep this up, you'll get your reward soon."
"Now let's go to sleep. Keep the plug in."
It was impossible to sleep under those conditions. The stockings rubbing against the sheets, the silk babydoll, being caged, and now the plug stretching his ass—it was absurd to even try. His thoughts oscillated between fear and anxiety about what the next day would bring.
The next morning, as had become the new routine, he kept the stockings, babydoll, and plug on. He put on the higher-heeled shoes and prepared breakfast. He reflected on the new routine. It seemed like every day a new item was added to his wardrobe.
He woke Emilia with breakfast: "Good morning, love."
"Hello darling, good morning. I love how that babydoll looks on you."
"Thank you, but now I have to change for the office."
"Leave the plug in and don't forget the pantyhose, please."
Now he had to wear the plug all day on top of the pantyhose? Well, it was "Emilia's Week" and the agreement was that he would obey her.
Just like the day before, he received several calls from Emilia asking for photos—not only of his caged cock, but also of the plug he was wearing.
"How do you feel?" she would ask when she received the pictures.
"Strangely restless, aroused, and at the same time humiliated."
"Excellent. That's the idea. I want you excited, and the humiliation is a bonus. It will make you more obedient."
"Even more? I've followed all your orders."
"And you should be proud of that. Keep it up and soon you'll get your prize."
"Will it be possible today?"
"So impatient. The more you hold back, the greater the pleasure will be. Do you trust me?"
"You know I do."
"Very good. See you tonight."
That night, Juan was sitting in the basement chair wearing the babydoll, stockings, heels, chastity device, and the plug firmly buried inside him.
When she arrived, she had changed her outfit again. She wore a sleeveless latex dress with a square neckline that highlighted her breasts. Her makeup was even more intense and dark than usual, with deep wine-red lips. She had long fake black nails, thigh-high stockings with elastic tops, and thigh-high boots with the usual twelve-centimeter heels.
"Do you trust me?" she whispered once more in his ear while gently biting it and pinching his nipples with her nails.
"Yes, Mistress."
"Will you do whatever I ask?"
"Of course, Mistress."
"Do you know what time it is?"
"No, Mistress. I've lost track of time."
"It's time to change your plug."
"Change it? I've been wearing it all day, stretching myself, Mistress."
"Exactly. That's why we need to go bigger." She stood up. "Get up and show me your ass," she ordered.
He obeyed, placed his hands on the back of the chair, and offered his buttocks. She removed the plug and inserted a new one of already generous size. She spent a good while stretching him—pushing it in a little, pulling it out, then pushing it deeper—until the thickest part finally passed his sphincter and settled firmly inside him.
"It's a bit uncomfortable, Mistress."
"Relax. You'll get used to it. Now parade for me a little."
More submissive than ever, he immediately obeyed and began walking in circles around the basement.
"Much better. With this plug your walk is much more sensual. I like it. But something's missing. What is it?"
"I don't know, Mistress. I'll do whatever you ask."
"I know," she said. "Take off the babydoll for a moment and wait for me."
He removed the babydoll, pulling it over his head, and let out a moan—part surprise, part pleasure—as he sat back down and felt the plug sink even deeper inside him.
She returned with a black bra that already had a pair of fairly large breast forms attached. Obviously, everything was part of a plan, and the previous scene about something missing had just been an act.
She helped him put on the bra. He felt the weight of the prosthetics on his chest. They couldn't have looked more realistic—even the shape of the artificial nipples was visible through the fabric. Then she slipped the babydoll back over his head and looked him up and down.
"Much better. Now stand up again and parade for me."
He began the ritual of walking in circles around the basement again. At one point he noticed she was sitting in the chair, holding her phone and filming him.
"Is it necessary to film and take pictures, Mistress?" (He remembered the proper address at the last second.)
"Of course. I want to document the entire process."
"What process, Mistress?"
"You'll find out soon enough. Now keep practicing. Besides, I'm only taking pictures of your body. From the neck down, you're all woman."
He walked and walked until his feet began to hurt. Exhausted, he begged: "Please, Mistress, I can't take any more."
"You did very well. I'm proud of you. Now come to the bed."
He thought that after her compliments he would finally get at least one full orgasm. However, he was completely wrong. The same events from the other nights repeated themselves. She brought him to the edge again and again. When he finally started to ejaculate, she left him frustrated, then had him drink his own cum before locking him back in chastity.
"Now let's go to sleep. Just take off the shoes. Leave everything else on."
It was almost dawn when he finally managed to fall asleep. The intrusion of the plug was now joined by the weight of his new fake breasts. He couldn't find a comfortable position. And even worse, he had become convinced that everything that had happened so far was just a kind of warm-up for what was yet to come.
He was sure of one thing: whatever Emilia had in mind, it would surprise him.
The next morning, as was now the custom, he prepared breakfast and brought it to the master bedroom.
"Good morning, my love."
"Hello. Good morning. Your new breasts look lovely."
"Thank you. I'm still getting used to the feeling, but I have to confess it's quite pleasant."
"That's good. It's good that you get used to them because it turns me on to see you like this."
"Now I have to change for the office."
Once again, the daily reminder: "Don't forget to leave the plug in and put on your pantyhose."
Again, during the day there were frequent trips to his private office bathroom to send Emilia photos of his caged cock, the plug stretching him, and the stockings covering his legs.
The humiliations were becoming routine.
That night, he changed into the bra with breast forms, stockings, heels, and of course left the plug and chastity device in place.
He sat in the basement chair waiting for her, partly imagining what outfit she would wear today and what new proposal she would bring. What would she make him do tonight? He hoped it wouldn't be as tiring as spending hours parading and practicing in heels.
When she came down the stairs, she was wearing the same outfit as Monday: a structured leather corset, nylon stockings held up by eight garters, latex gloves up to her shoulders, knee-high boots with twelve-centimeter heels, and of course, severe dark makeup with her hair in a high ponytail.
What surprised him was that in one hand she was carrying a bag. What did she have in there? He thought few things could surprise him at this point, but his Mistress's creativity never ceased to amaze him.
"Today I brought you a gift, but first we're going to change that plug."
"Change the plug again, Mistress? I was just getting used to this one."
"Exactly. We need to make it bigger."
With that, she took a plug from the wall. "Stand up and show me your ass," she ordered.
He obeyed, placed his hands on the back of the chair, and offered his buttocks. She removed the current plug and inserted a new one of already generous dimensions. She spent a good while stretching him, pushing it in a little, pulling it out, then pushing it deeper, until it finally passed his sphincter and stretched his ass even more.
"Now sit down. I'm going to give you your gift," she said as she picked up the bag.
He never would have expected what she took out of the bag: a large transparent plastic case containing a complete makeup kit. She placed a small stool next to him, opened the case—which had three different tiers full of shadows, brushes, foundation, fake nails, and many items he couldn't even identify.
"Let's see what we can do with your face," she said, taking a pair of tweezers and starting to work on his eyebrows.
"Mistress, please. I have to go to the office tomorrow."
"Don't worry. It will barely be noticeable. I just want to give them a bit of shape."
She was right. She only removed the stray hairs. When she finished, his eyebrows were the same, just thinner and better shaped. It wouldn't interfere with his daily routine.
She continued by gluing on long fake nails and painting them a deep red.
Then she worked on his face: lining his eyelids, applying false eyelashes, then eyeshadow, blush, and finally painting his lips the same color as his nails.
"Almost done. Just one small detail left." She took a black Cleopatra-style wig from the bag, placed it on his head, adjusted it, and combed it.
"Done. I barely recognize you. You look beautiful, and that turns me on."
"Thank you, Mistress."
"We need to work a bit on your voice too. Also, we can't keep calling you Juan anymore. Juana sounds boring. I think you look like a Débora. Is it okay if I call you Débora?"
"As you wish, Mistress."
"Very good." She went back to the bag, took out a mirror, and held it in front of her new creation.
"I can hardly recognize myself, Mistress," said the newly born Débora.
"I think I've discovered my bisexuality," she told him. "You have no idea how much it turns me on to see you like this. Now come here."
She got on the bed on all fours, exposing her ass. "Thank me by kissing my ass. I want to feel your tongue inside my asshole."
Débora obeyed and began by kissing her buttocks, leaving red lipstick marks. Little by little she moved closer to her anus, first kissing it and then timidly pushing her tongue inside the hole.
"Deeper. Put more effort into it or I'll have to punish you."
She extended her tongue as far as she could. With her delicate hands, now adorned with long fake nails, she spread her Mistress's cheeks to expose her asshole more and pushed her tongue in as deep as possible. Her Mistress's moans could be heard.
"What a delight. I should have done this much sooner. Keep going, keep going."
Of course, she obeyed, practically trying to fuck her Mistress with her tongue.
"Wait. Now put this plug in me. I want to feel nice and full."
She took the plug her Mistress handed her and began inserting it slowly, repeating the same game—letting it go in a little, then pulling it out, then pushing it deeper each time.
When it was completely inside her, her Mistress turned around and ordered:
"Now I want to feel your tongue on my clit."
She began kissing her, licking hard over her sex, feeling her Mistress's orgasm approaching. Finally, her Mistress grabbed her head, pressed harder, and began to moan.
Débora continued trying to prolong the orgasm as long as possible until her Mistress, exhausted, pushed her away.
"That was excellent. We should have done this much sooner."
"Whenever you want, Mistress."
"You can be sure it will happen frequently. Now let's go to sleep. Just take off your shoes. I want to sleep with my new wife."
On Friday morning, when she got up, Débora automatically put on her heels. She looked in the mirror and thought her makeup needed a touch-up. Not knowing exactly how, she simply reapplied her lipstick and fixed her wig, hoping her Mistress would appreciate the effort. Then she prepared breakfast.
"Good morning, my love."
"Good morning. You look beautiful today. I see you touched up your lips."
"I hoped you'd like it. I didn't know how to fix the rest of the makeup."
"Today we'll work on that. Now that I think about it, last night in all the excitement I forgot something."
"Maybe releasing me from this thing?" she said, referring to the chastity device.
"No, not that. You still need to be a little patient. You'll get your prize soon. What I forgot was to give you this," she said, handing her a larger plug.
"You want me to wear it?"
"Of course. I want you nice and stretched for when you get your prize. Come on, put it in right now."
Knowing her Mistress expected her to humiliate herself in the process, she turned around and showed her how she removed the current plug and, after lubing the new one, inserted it, feeling her ass stretch even more.
"Now I have to change for the office."
"Of course."
It was no longer necessary to remind her to keep the plug in all day.
That night's events had a slight variation. Débora was waiting in the basement when her Mistress arrived dressed once again like the Scarlet Witch.
"Tonight we're not playing here. We're going to your room. I'm going to teach you how to do your makeup."
"Yes, Mistress." She followed her to the room where all her things were kept.
When they arrived, she found a small but significant change. In front of the vanity there was a chair that had always been there, now with a mirror that had been installed a couple of days earlier, where she could watch her transformation.
Now, however, the center of the chair was occupied by a realistic dildo fixed to the seat with a suction mechanism.
"Come on, sit down," her Mistress told her.
"Mistress, it's very big."
"You should be used to it by now. Besides, it's slightly smaller than the plug you're wearing now. It's just a little longer. Come on, don't make me wait or I'll have to punish you. I'll help you."
"Yes, Mistress." She removed the plug and aligned the entrance of her ass with the head of the dildo.
Her Mistress took her by the shoulders and applied downward pressure. The dildo began to penetrate her slowly. She had been right—it went in easily.
"See? It wasn't that hard."
"No, Mistress. You were right."
"Now pay attention. I'm going to teach you the basics of makeup. From now on, you'll have to do it yourself."
She then began a lesson that Débora tried—really tried—to pay full attention to, but she couldn't help getting distracted by the feeling of the dildo filling her ass.
She explained how to apply false eyelashes, how to use color to enhance her cheekbones and slim her chin, how to blend eyeshadow, and finally how to line and paint her lips to make them look fuller.
The last lesson was how to apply and paint fake nails and how to secure the wig.
When she finished, once again there was no trace of Juan—only Débora remained.
"Good. Now I need you to stay still." As soon as she said this, she took a pair of handcuffs and secured her arms behind the back of the chair. Then she used Velcro straps to secure her ankles to the legs of the chair.
Once immobilized, she removed the chastity device and began masturbating her as she had done so many times before. She brought her mouth close to the head, stopping at the last moment when Débora thought she would kiss it, leaving her feeling only her hot breath on her genitals.
She caressed her balls with one hand while continuing to stroke with the other, stopping and starting again very slowly, bringing her to the edge of orgasm again and again. Until, as on so many other nights, she couldn't hold back any longer and began to ejaculate. Her Mistress, of course, stopped, ruining the orgasm and catching all the cum in her mouth.
She stood up, approached her face, and said: "Kiss me."
Débora opened her mouth and extended her tongue. Her Mistress kissed her as if they were two lesbians, their tongues intertwining, and in doing so, she passed all of her cum into her mouth.
"Drink it. Show me you're a good girl and take it all."
Débora obeyed, feeling the liquid slide down her throat. What a change, she thought. A week ago she would never have dreamed of being in this position—with a dildo buried in her ass, drinking her own cum, and adoring a woman she barely recognized.
She released her from the restraints and said: "Put the plug back in and let's go to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day."
Chapter IV – Débora Blossoms
On Saturday morning, she went to her assigned room. After taking a shower, she began getting ready. First the makeup, this time using lighter colors suitable for daytime. She chose the black Cleopatra-style wig, the bra with breast forms, the corset cinched as tight as possible, and natural-colored nylon stockings.
What would she wear? She ***********ed a white blouse with a high neck and long sleeves with ruffles at the cuffs, a beige pencil skirt five centimeters above the knee, and matching shoes.
She completed her outfit with a couple of bracelets on her right wrist and three rings—two on her right hand and one on her left.
While preparing breakfast, she couldn't help reflecting on the events of the week. How was it possible that in just seven days she had come so far? On Monday she had been a completely heterosexual man, and on Saturday night she had ended up as a French maid, begging her wife to fuck her.
Anyway, the experience had been incredible, and she wasn't sorry at all.
When she finished preparing breakfast, she served it in bed.
"Good morning, love."
"Good morning, Débora. You look lovely today."
"Thank you. I wanted to show you how much I enjoyed last night."
"About that, there are some things I want to talk about."
"Of course. I also need to talk about a few things."
"First me," Emilia said. "I think it's necessary to clarify that 'Juan's Week' was excellent. I dare say I never had so many orgasms in my life, and I have nothing to complain about."
"I'm glad, dear."
"Let me finish. Please don't interrupt. The second week, even though I had fewer orgasms, was much more pleasurable. I can't explain it. It's as if the feeling of being in control of the situation, the power, the ability I had to make you do things was more exciting than the sexual activity itself."
"I understand."
"Wait, I'm not done yet. As you know, during the day I have to deal with clients who don't know what they want but have the arrogance to tell me what I have to do. The activities at night were, in a way, liberating. I could almost say that the power I had was like a drug. At first I had no intention of going as far as we did last night."
"But something happened."
"Exactly. Every day I felt the need to go a little further, to explore my limits and yours. Like I told you before, every day I wanted a little more. And here we are. The fact is, I wouldn't like to go back to 'Juan's Week' now. I'm not sure I could accept a submissive role anymore."
"To be honest," Débora said, "my case was exactly the opposite. You've seen how I come home every day complaining about the need to assert myself, to show that I'm the boss, to watch out for everyone waiting for me to make a mistake so they can take my position."
"In my case," she continued, "the experience was liberating, if you will. The only thing that mattered was pleasing you. My only obligation was to obey you. Knowing, of course, that you wouldn't harm me, and at the same time, with the expectation of what new activities you had in store for me."
"So, what do you think?" Emilia asked.
"I think it would be hard for me to go back to 'Juan's Week' too. I would almost say it was stressful for me. After leaving the office, instead of relaxing, I felt obligated to think about what I was going to do, how I could give you pleasure, always afraid of making a mistake. I couldn't go back to that."
"So, we continue like this?"
"I'd love that. Besides, we can't waste all the clothes you've bought for me."
"Excellent. That's my girl. Now, as a show of devotion, I want you to kiss my cock."
Débora then obediently knelt beside the bed and began kissing her wife's strap-on.
"My God, what a slut you are... and how much I love it."
Epilogue
Six months after the events described here, Juan arrived home in the afternoon and looked for his wife in her studio.
"Hi honey, I'm home."
"Hi my love. So good to see you."
"If you want, I'll go get Débora and ask her to come help you relax."