We’d only been at mummy's a few days when she bought several pair of new underpants for Steven. They were your basic white cotton bikini style briefs but obviously women's underpants, right down to the little bow in the middle of the waistband.
I discovered this when, the following morning, Steven came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but his new knickers. He flushed when I asked where they came from. ‘In the wardrobe, I… I thought they… they were your idea.’ He blurted; his voice more than slightly tinged with guilt. I shook my head. ‘No. If it wasn’t your idea, then mummy must have bought them.’ ‘But I … I thought …’ Steven stopped mid sentence his body tensing as I ran my palm over his panties. I must admit the sensation of my fingers caressing his panty encased penis was captivating. Curiosity had the better of me and I just had to ask, ‘How do they feel?’ He chewed his lower lip. ‘The feeling is a little different, a bit confining but no complaints, they’re certainly soft against the skin.’ I blushed, his bulging erection now barely concealed by the tight white cotton. ‘I'll have a word with mummy.’ My hands still stroking him through the smooth fabric, suddenly we were kissing and soon Steven’s panties were sliding to the floor.
After a quick morning romp, an inspection of our wardrobe revealed no sign of men’s underpants. Mummy had obviously thrown out all of Steven’s underpants. I knew Steven wouldn’t go commando. He hated the rub of rough denim about his genitals. There was no alternative; Steven would have to wear his new knickers for the day. That he didn’t seem overly concerned was a little surprising but I must concede that a part of me didn’t mind. I thought the bikini briefs made Steven’s little butt look cute. Yet, I packed Steven off to work gripped by a concern that someone might notice his new underwear. It was, however, only after Steven’s departure that I could tackle mummy. I certainly wouldn’t embarrass Steven by discussing the panties with her in front of him.
No sooner had I closed the door behind my husband than I exclaimed ‘You bought ladies panties for Steven!’ ‘I know.’ Mummy calmly replied. ‘Husbands who wear panties rarely stray from the nest.’ I blinked. ‘You want him to wear panties?’ ‘Of course, and Steven will wear what I want him to wear. I believe in dressing men this way. It gets them thinking as they should and reinforces obedience. Come now Chrissy, you're a very capable young lawyer; your husband needs to understand that it is his role to provide you with the support you need to reach your full potential. If you're to be as successful as we both know you can be, you'll need Steven undertaking the shopping and the housework not formulating absurd pecuniary plans. You just leave Steven to me.’
I knew what she was thinking. You see, during their marriage my father had proven to be completely unreliable. A drunk and a womaniser. As a result my mother was vigilant, probably overly vigilant, in her efforts to ensure that any man who showed the slightest interest in me was not of that ilk.
Mummy certainly didn't believe Steven to be a ‘protector and provider type’ but she'd agree to having harboured a certain fondness for him. During our courtship, for example, mummy confided that she saw Steven as having many of the traits she thought desirable in a potential husband. To her mind he was a naturally passive individual, the kind who would not object to a wife making decisions for him and who would be happy to allow his woman to play the lead in any relationship.
Still I remained uneasy. I had always loved and respected mummy but this time she had gone too far. At least I thought she had. I spent the remainder of the day in my chambers, unable to focus on the various opinions which required my attention, my mood drifting slowly from righteous indignation toward the certain resignation that comes of understanding that mother knows best.
In the end, I meekly allowed my mother to demonstrate her theory that wearing panties would make Steven a more compliant husband. She tackled him that evening. As soon as he walked in the door she asked him what he was wearing under his jeans. Steven bit his lip and looked cautiously in my direction. Panic etched his face. ‘I thought it was what Chrissy wanted! I … I didn’t want to … to disappoint her.’ By now Steven was pleading in the manner of a school boy caught reading his first porno magazine. ‘Let me see how they look.’ Mummy cooed while calmly unbuckling his belt.
‘Mummy!’ I gasped. ‘Oh be quiet Chrissy, I'm old enough to be his mother!’ My husband simply froze as his jeans were hauled down to expose his cute white panties. ‘Now.’ Mummy started, looking directly at me, ‘Tell me his bum doesn't look delightful in these.’ Dumb struck, I hesitated. She continued her interrogation. ‘Looks like I judged his size correctly, so what's wrong with them? You don't like the colour or the material?’ I shook my head. ‘Don’t be silly. I didn't say there as anything wrong with the colour or material. But they’re women’s panties.’ ‘Of course and you'd never wear a man's shirt?’ Mummy beamed. ‘Why don’t you ask Steven if he prefers wearing them or his old underpants?’ ‘Mummy you can’t be serious!’ ‘Go on then, ask him or I will!’
Steven’s face was now flushed with fear. Mummy proceeded to badger him ‘You like wearing women’s panties don’t you Steven?’ Steven positively squirmed before blurting out his affirmation. I intervened. ‘Stop it mummy. Leave him alone.’
I sat down heavily staring at my husband. ‘I don't believe this.’ I whispered. ‘You're telling me you prefer to wear women’s panties.’ ‘Yes’ was Steven’s quivering response. He lowered his eyes. ‘When your mum told me that you’d like me to wear women’s knickers but would be too embarrassed to ask, I thought I'd look totally stupid in them and you’d say enough’. But this morning you didn't seem to think that I looked stupid and well, you didn’t say ‘enough’. Your mother knew it would please you, she told me wearing panties would help make me the way you’d want me to be. She told me I’d come to like it and I suppose I do.’ I opened my mouth and then paused. ‘Perhaps my mother was right as usual’.
Mummy gave Steven’s panty clad rump a gentle pat as she told him to go and change.
I poured myself a drink and waited. ‘We are, to a large extent, what we wear.’ Mummy explained after getting herself a drink. ‘A female barrister such as yourself doesn't power dress for the fun of it, you do it to establish a persona of dominance both for yourself and for those who would challenge you. For similar reasons a girl wearing a maid's uniform is more likely to perceive herself as subservient and to think in a servile way. Men are really no different.’ I sipped my vodka and lime and asked the obvious question. ‘What do I gain from having my man in panties?’ She laughed. ‘A lot, better sex, an obedient husband who will do your housework, a husband who'll allow you to make life's major decisions and of course, a man who won’t run about after other women.’ I finished my drink. ‘Better sex?’ My mother nodded. ‘In bed, a man with a feminine touch is a treasure. Try it, you'll be pleasantly surprised.’
Steven entered the room and mummy terminated the discussion. Instead, she set about issuing Steven with his orders for the evening. ‘I'd like you to prepare the evening meal. Pour me a drink before you start.’ I frowned. Steven obeyed her directive to pour a drink and then walked into the kitchen. My mother could not have missed the disapproval on my face. She raised her voice adding, ‘and later he will do the ironing and wash the dishes.’ ‘And will he enjoy this, the cross-dressing, the housework?’ I wanted to know. She nodded. ‘I haven't used force and if I mention witchcraft you'll scoff. So let's just say I've utlized the same form of gentle persuasion I employed when advocating that you marry the boy. I’ve simply taken advantage of his natural guilt over landing you in this situation and have convinced the poor darling that, though you'd never ask it of him, this is what you'd want from him. He'll wear and do whatever you and I want and he’ll do that because he believes it'll make you happy.’ Mummy must have sensed that I could barely believe my ears. She changed tack,‘Look, if your real concern is that he’ll get caught out we can impose some simple rules to ensure that doesn’t happen.’
My head was swimming as I walked to the kitchen. My husband was wearing a white tea-apron as he worked. I was astonished yet tried not to let on.
Diner was a strange affair, Steven obviously nervous, with mummy positively gushing over his cullinary efforts while I remained recticent.
Once he'd finished the dishes I ordered Steven to go upstairs. He looked at me in the manner of a naughty little boy. ‘Put on a … pretty pair.’ I added sternly. A pink stain spread from his neck to his face. ‘Are you angry with me for… for wearing panties?’ He asked in a faint low voice. ‘No.’ I replied. ‘But if you’re going to dress in women's underwear you'd best wear a sexy pair for bed.’ I carefully scrutinised his rear as he mounted the stairs noting the panty line barely visible through his trousers.
I gave him a few minutes to get ready. In reality I was half hoping he’d decide that being my Barbie doll wasn’t for him. When, finally, I excused myself and headed in the direction of the bedroom, mummy grinned and winked. ‘Be gentle with him.’ Her smugness concerned me. It was abundantly clear that mummy’s control extended beyond Steven’s wardrobe.
My heart filled with trepidation, I stepped into our bedroom. The light was dim. Steven stood by our bed clothed in his cotton pyjamas. He looked shy and nervous, head bowed, shoulders rounded, hands by his side. ‘Like a virgin bride on her wedding night’ - I thought to myself. I lowered his pyjama pants and exposed his knickers. The gesture revealed yet another gift from my mother. This time the panties were pink satin with lace inserts on each side and a pretty white rosebud central upon the waist band. I stepped back and gazed at my feminized husband. ‘Mummy’, I thought, ‘what have you done?’ Steven looked away, his body was trembling and I suddenly felt sorry for him. Steven's own mother had domineered him for years, so he must have been putty in mummy's manipulative hands.
‘I need to know one thing.’ I said softly while unzipping my dress. ‘Are you doing this just to please her, or because you want to?’ He still wouldn't meet my eye. ‘It's not your mother's fault. I don’t mind wearing panties. But I won't do anything you don't want me to do.’
His devotion to my happiness was both touching and arousing. I eagerly removed my bra and knickers before slipping my arms about his waist and squeezing his buttocks tightly. Steven sagged meekly against me. As I pressed my right hand between his thighs, his legs parted and we kissed; a hot lingering kiss, full of passion and promise. We slipped into bed and I again began kissing him, fondling him as I did so. ‘Does this make you the ‘wife’ then?’ I asked with a finger circling idly upon his chest. He squirmed as he replied, ‘If that's what you’d like. You know it’s … well … you always seem … you know, to love it when your on top and well … you know … dressed like this … it kind of seems like you should … ’.
Once more I forced my right hand between his thighs and set about exploring the fascination of his masculinity as it hardened beneath the cocoon of satin and lace. ‘You want me to make love to you?’ I mused. He sighed, ‘I know it sounds strange, but its what you'd want so, yes’. I eased his panties from his hips and slid my thigh over him. My lips found his and when his mouth opened I pushed my tongue deep inside. Arching my back I took a firm grip on his hardness and guided it inside me, my loins moist and febrile smoothed his passage. My hips began an urgent thrusting against his member. With Steven submissive to my every desire, I was in complete control of our union and my own gratification. ‘Yes!’ I enthused. ‘Oh yes, yes, yes!’ my eyes were half closed. I cupped Steven’s hands to my swaying breasts. ‘Oh yes that’s it … God yes!’ Steven’s erection fully embedded, my hips now made orbital thrusts about its length. ‘Oh yes right there!’ Steven responded attentively to my every intimation his gentle massage bringing my nipples to attention, his pelvis striving valiantly to pleasure me. ‘Oh, yes, oh … God … yessss!’ I clenched my teeth and shuddered through the first of several orgasms for the night.
Saturday followed, I sat in bed under the pretext of reading one of my trial briefs. A contented smile spread across my face as I watched Steven walk from the bathroom. Our eyes met, he looked shy and uncertain clad only in pair of mummy’s cotton knickers. I took a deep breath as he bent to claim his jeans. ‘Do you really want to be my ‘wife’?’ His face turned crimson; ‘Only if that's what you want?’ To be completely honest I felt my adopting the dominant position in our relationship only fair given the mess Steven had made of things so I nodded.
I placed my brief upon the bed side table. ‘Turn around.’ I whispered thickly. ‘Let me take a good look at you.’ He obeyed, Steven was so bashful and timid it was adorable! I soon found my hands straying about his hips and buttocks, then gliding over his taught flat stomach. ‘Get back into bed.’ I ordered, doing my best to feign excitement. ‘I haven't finished with you.’ Steven squealed with delight as I bundled him onto the bed. Eager to please, he lay on his back, I immediately placed the weight of my upper body upon his chest pinning him to the bed while slipping my fingers around his panty clad scrotum. ‘If you turn gay on me I’ll feed these to the ducks’, I threatened, applying subtle pressure to the sack and its contents. The look of terror on Steven’s face was all the assurance I needed. ‘I … I wouldn’t! I … I swear!’ he stammered. ‘Best not keep mummy waiting’ I prompted as I rose.
Mummy was right. Steven would make us both very happy.