1/30/2009

Life as Debbie











This blog is about my daily life as Debbie, a submissive male-housewife completely dominated by her beautiful female wife Sandra, and about our life-style which could only be referred to as "alternative". As you may already suppose, traditional gender roles are out of the question in our marriage. But we've gone far beyond a simple role-exchange agreement so common in couples nowadays: I have been slowly but progressively feminized by my wife over the years up to the point where I look like something like her androgynous alter-ego.

Scroll down for my most recent posting!




How did I get to this point? How did I become Debbie? How and why did I end up being Sandy's wife in stead of her husband? How does it feel for a male to stay home cooking, cleaning and doing house-work all day? To wear high-heels and skirts in public? What are people's reactions to that?
I'll be posting my story whenever I have some time out of my slave-chores, as well as some snippets of my daily life experiences and also a reflection once in a while because house-wives an also think, you know?
My account will probably be a bit bizarre for some, you better be aware, as it will reflect our quite unusual life style: there will be descriptions of femdom (complete female domination), male sumissiveness, cross-dressing 24/7, forced feminization, and some light BDSM. But I also know many of you will certainly enjoy it. Most of you are probably already laughing at me as you read these lines, while some of you on the contrary overtly or secretly envy my lot. Whatever be the case, you are welcome to read on: my latest posting follows. Return frequently and check up for new postings and updates!




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1/29/2009

I surrender dear

Over the years, I’ve been molded to be the perfect submissive wife. Paradoxically, you become free as you give up many of your liberties; you focus on your purpose in life, as you devote your whole existence to the fulfillment of your partner’s goals and ambitions. Having Sandra in charge of all the finances and important decisions has left me space to discover my real talents, as I abandoned my former career and took up fashion and drawing.

But, on a more mundane level, one doesn’t realize at first the incredible amount of skills one has to master, from walking with high heels to cleaning an oven; the amount of expertise it takes, from dealing with an unpredictable, temperamental artist to handling unwelcome comments in the streets. Believe me, it is a long, uninterrupted learning process. In fact, Sandra feels responsible for my continuous education, and is always signing me up for lessons of all sorts. At the beginning, they were the obvious activities every housewife/maid should master: housekeeping, cooking, etiquette. But also, being a clumsy, not too graceful male, she made me take up ballet and modeling. Then all those occupations which enable me to serve her better: hairstyling, and makeup, massage techniques. That’s how we discovered my real calling: not Law, like I thought before my transformation, but sewing. My knowledge is now reaching a pro level, and it not only has made us save a lot of money in clothing, but it already accounts for an additional income to our home (Guess who manages it!)

But I am being very self-centered here, and that is a real “no-no” for a submissive. Thinking back, I realize that a Dominant has also large amount of proficiencies to learn. From how to spank you or tie you up without killing you, to managing not only his or her assets, but also whatever valuables or belongings the sub might surrender to the Domme, including, of course, his or her body.

As I recall that first time when Sandy imprisoned me in a kitchen cupboard, I can see how much she has improved as a dominant, manipulative, naughty Mistress. Now she knows my limits and how far she can go in her punishments, and how to make them more delightfully painful. Has she also been taking classes all these years? Wait… I cannot tell you everything!

Back to our story:

“But what the hell!” squalled Sandra’s voice as she opened the door of the broom closet in which I had been kept. The light of day hurt my eyes and, as I crawled out of my confinement, I realized I could barely stand. My knees, squeezed against the closet wall for so long; my feet, swollen for having been held standing, my neck, twisted against the cupboard’s ceiling for several hours.





Howcome had I been kept inside a cupboard? This story starts here


“You peed all over the place, this is disgusting!”
“I know, Sandy, I’m sorry… I'll clean everything up”, I replied, lying on the kitchen’s floor.
“Then, what are you waiting for?”
“But I can’t even move”
“I was only kidding… It’s OK, darling, I’m sorry. I realize I took things a bit too far” she said, fondling my hair, “now, get a bath, take some sleep, I’ll get you something to eat… and then, once you’re done with all this mess… maybe…”
“Maybe?:…”
“Maybe… but only maybe… I will possess you” she whispered in my ear
I felt all my pains and my hunger fading away. I was hot again.
As she helped me to the bedroom (her bedroom!), she saw the spots in my uniform…
“But… what’s this?”
I didn’t answer
“Did you cum?”

She showed not anger. On the contrary, I’d say she was rather sad and disappointed. That was even worse. I prefer a million times for her to rage at me than for me to let her down…
“I suppose it’s my fault” she said matter-of-factly as she helped me up the stairs, “next time I’ll have to tie you up”

Nowadays, she always does… just I case.

1/27/2009

When the Boys Meet the Girls

After two World Wars, civil right revolutions, women lib movement, we have unquestionably modified our behaviorfor good, at least in the Western countries. Gender roles within relationships as well as expectations in marriages have undergone substantial changes. This has provoked a significant crisis in the marriage institution itself. After all, our grandparents knew exactly what to expect from each other... now we are not so sure.But besides that "crisis", it has also lead us to a better understanding of ourselves as human beings, these strange savage creatures. We’ve started crossing that conventional, unimaginative, and conformist border over to the "other side": the terra icognita of our "significant other half" (whatever his o her sex happens to be!)"Female lead" relationships, in which the female partner takes over the responsibilities, duties, and (let's admit it) "privileges" that were once assigned to husbands only, are not rare any more.But what I haven't heard of that often is about couples in which the role exchange is taken to the point in which the "biological" male actually takes a female name, and dresses her part, wearing garments conventionally assigned to women.As my readers know so well, that happens to be precisely our case. After all, am I or am I not taking over the female role? Shouldn't my persona display that? Why conceal it? Shouldn't I overtly express it in my looks? "Fashion" is, after all, important means of projecting your personality, of making a public statement about who you are and what you think of yourself. Then I need to dress like... myself!Is that "cross-dressing"? I don't think so. My "dressing" has not "crossed" any nonsensical boundary line over to what's supposed to be "the other sex"... I have! My looks only reflect that.It's not a big deal, though, I tell you. What's more: If any of you lads out there is still holding back his needs, and cannot summon enough courage to dress in an androgynous, feminine or girly fashion on a 24/7 basis, let me just encourage you: You'll be surprised at the very little attention you get whatsoever. (Unless the reason you want to "cross-dress" is precisely to get other people's attention. In that case you might feel disappointed!)

Yes, you might come across rude comments once in a while, depending on where you strive (I can imagine that if I attended a soccer game, I would be looking for trouble). You can even be discriminated against for a job. But after all, if you are not be accepted the way you really are, then why be after that job anyway?
I have undergone that experience myself, I should admit, but not too often: after all I am a housewife, so I already have plenty of work ...

My daily life runs mostly uneventful, even as I display my dresses and skirts all around the neighborhood when I go shopping for groceries. If I ever receive any response at all, other that a snooping glance, it is more often that not a compliment rather than a scornful remark.

Are things really changing, then? Well, that’s something I'm not so sure about, something I keep asking to myself every now and then. But I’ve discovered a way to find out wether or not our society at large is progressing in that respect, or if it is rather regressing. Guess what: small children.

Out of politeness or plain dishonesty, grown-ups may conceal what they really think about you. Specially if you are different. Kids, on the other hand, tend to speak their hearts out. In doing so, they show, besides their natural curiosity, any prejudices that could have been instilled in them by their parents.

“Boys don’t wear earrings!”
“Says who?”
“My dad”

And who are you to question dad’s authority? Well, that dialogue took place several years ago. (I should admit that back then not many men had both ears pierced).

Those infantile chats have evolved, though. Some few years ago, I was approached by a small girl, probably five or six. She straightforwardly asked, as only a child dares to inquire:
“Are you a boy or girl?”
For me, the irony of that brief conversation was that, during that particular scene, I had the impression that I was looking very “masculine”, at least to my standards. But I should admit that I probably did not look that manly after all: I was wearing bright red pants, large earrings, black closed-toes shoes but with heels, and a matching handbag.
“And what do you think I am?”
“Mmm… I dunno… you have a beard…”
“So?”
“So I think you’re a man”
And having proclaimed that , she turned around and left, while continuing with her ice-cream.

A new step in the evolution (or decline) can be perceived in my most recent questioning, only last week. (Why are the askers always girls, never a boy?) This time I was appareled as my normal self: a white silken blouse, black embroidered trousers, platform wedge sandals, complemented with a large red hanging collar, silver earrings, and rings.
As I was in a clinic’s waiting room, my interviewer showed up: a pre-elementary school girl, not older than five. She probably had never before come across a bearded individual wearing my apparel, so she simply went ahead and asked (much to her mother’s dismay):
“Boy or girl?”
“What do you think?” I replied, trying to investigate, like in my former conversation, any preconceptions she might have.
“Boy or girl?” she repeated laconically, while she let herself hang from a bench.
As I sensed that our chat could last forever, I answered wryly:
“I’m a girl, only that not a very beautiful one…”
She just stared at me. I realized she was too young for ironies or witty remarks, so I confessed:
“No: a boy… I’m a boy”
“Boys don’t wear high heels!”
“Why?”
“Because they don’t”
“But I like them!”
“But you can’t wear them… they are for girls!” she said, still swinging from the armchair.
I was about to comment with her about girls doing fun things like driving trucks or becoming astronauts… but it was my turn with the doctor.

My conclusion: yes, we probably still have a long way to go in the road to complete mutual acceptance among human beings… But if Sandra and I kept waiting for things to change completely, we wouldn’t be enjoying this life-style, the one we have chosen for ourselves!

Disclaimer

Sorry if some of you out there will feel disappointed, but our names are not really Sandra and Debbie, and I can't claim the stories in my postings to be fact, but fiction. They are all true stories, though, in the sense that they are, without exception, based in my real-life experiences, only that narrated in a free style, leaving wide space to fantasy and told in a way that, hopefully, will be more attractive to the D/s community than just the plain facts.

My current life, though is practically identical to that of my alter ego, Debbie. I do most of the housework at home, and I do wear skirts and high heels in public. In fact, all my garments come from the "ladies" section of the store. I appreciate your comments, and will particularily be grateful for any corrections, since my first language is not English, as you might have noticed.

If you want other details of the "real-life" Sandra and Debbie, feel free to send me an e-mail! debbiewife@gmail.com