Dear Auntie Helga,

My most wonderful wife, Mistress Joan, has allowed me to share my thoughts about our life together and the sublime happiness I have achieved as her devoted Sissy Maid Servant Husband, and now as her adoring 'baby'. She has lovingly described my development from macho man to obedient husband in her letters to you, Miss Helga, over the past year or so. She decided it would a good idea if my humble voice were also to be heard.

Unlike most of the experiences shared on these pages every month, I was never forced into cross-dressing by a powerful woman or women. My parents were happily married and I was raised as a normal boy. But ever since I can remember, I have always had the overpowering desire to dress in girl's/women's clothing. I was about five years old when I first put on my mother's slip; in a closet no less. It felt so good. Through the years, I dressed more completely; making sure that I was never caught. By the time I was a teenager, I had managed, in addition to 'borrowing' my mother's clothes, to buy/steal a rather complete wardrobe. I lived in constant fear of being discovered and humiliated. Would my parents still love me if they found out? I worried about my masculinity. Was there something wrong with me? My mind was scrambled. To 'prove' that I was really a man, I aggressively participated in sports and other masculine activities. Upon graduation from high school, I enlisted in the Army; volunteered for hazardous duty. I had to prove I was a man. What women's clothing I had, I threw in the trash. No more sissy stuff for me.

Upon my discharge from the Army, I continued my masculine pursuits. To the world, I was Mr Macho. However, these mind games didn't alleviate my strong desire to wear women's clothing. I reacquired a rather meager female wardrobe and dressed in the privacy of my apartment (flat). For years I played a self destructive game of 'Am I a man or a weirdo?'. This double life I was leading was taking a toll on my physical and mental life. I resorted to alcohol to keep from thinking about it. I thought that when I met and married Mistress Joan everything would change. No longer would I 'need' to dress. How wrong I was. I played games in order to hide my 'hobby'. The games came to an abrupt end that Super Bowl Sunday when Mistress Joan arrived home unexpectedly. The entire gauntlet of emotions rushed through my numbed mind. Fear of exposure, loss of Joan, humiliation, just to name a few. The climate was 'cold' that evening. I wound up sleeping on the couch. I was absolutely out of my mind at work the next day. The butterflies in my stomach were as big as jumbo jets. I was on an emotional roller coaster ride.

That evening, when I arrived home, courage enhanced by my friend Johnnie Walker, I expected to see my belongings stacked-up outside the front door. Instead, Mistress Joan was sitting calmly at the kitchen table sipping a glass of wine. I sat across from her, wondering what was ahead. She then proceeded to inform me that she loved me, that she neither understood my desire to dress in women's clothing nor why, but wanted to keep our marriage intact. However, there were conditions, more like an ultimatum. My way or the highway. I was to obey her in every respect, no exceptions. I was never again to wear any item of male clothing. I was to be her personal maid, address her as Mistress Joan at all times, attend to her every desire no matter what, and perform all household duties. Furthermore, I was to turn over my pay check every month and accept an allowance as she determined. Once she clarified my mode of dress at work, I accepted. My mind was in turmoil, utter mental confusion prevailed.

The next morning I dressed as Mistress Joan instructed, complete female under garments, including a stuffed bra and stockings, and male outer wear. We purged all my remaining male clothing, placed them in plastic bags and delivered them to a local charity. Next stop, the Shopping Mall. It was an experience I shall never forget. At every shop we visited, she had me ask the sales clerk for assistance in purchasing the appropriate items of clothing, letting them know the items were for me. I felt embarrassed and very self conscious. The ultimate ignominy for me though was getting fitted for women's shoes. The sales clerks snickered as did some of the other customers. I was a mental case by the time we arrived home.

I changed into my newly acquired clothes, (skirt, blouse, and high heeled pumps) as soon as we arrived home, and prepared dinner as best I could. As we enjoyed our dinner, we discussed the day's events, and as traumatic as they were, I realized that I now had a degree of freedom and acceptance I had never known before. I was wearing clothes I had always desired and with someone I loved.

Mistress Joan wasted no time in further preparing me for my future life as her devoted servant, her sissy servant. I received instructions on how I was to service her, do laundry, make the bed, etc. I was to curtsey every time I addressed her and was to speak only when spoken to. I was to ask for her permission to do just about everything including entering and leaving a room where she was, to look at the TV, even to go to the bathroom. She also changed the passwords to what was once 'our' computer. I felt humbled, and at the same time, relieved that the burden of being a leading a double life was gone. I felt an inner peace I had never known before in my life. I almost cried with joy.

The next morning was just as gut wrenching as the day before in more ways than one. I prepared breakfast, made the bed, and dressed in my new wardrobe. All the while wondering what would happen at work. Really, it was more like being scared out of my wits. Mistress Joan had to literally throw me out the door. Would anyone notice my enhanced chest, my feminine shoes, the shirt buttoned on the opposite side of man's shirt, my stockings showing between the tops of the shoes and the trouser leg, etc, etc? If anyone did notice, no one said anything. I felt more and more comfortable as the day went on. I was in seventh heaven by the time I arrived home.

My new life began in earnest that evening. It was a little awkward for me at first, but thankfully, Mistress Joan was loving, patient and helpful. Before long, I was performing my duties to her satisfaction. My mental outlook also underwent a subtle change during this period. Her insistence that I wear a nylon maid's uniform, curtsey every time I spoke with her, ask for permission for the most menial of reasons, and assume a demure posture gradually eased me into accepting her superiority. At first, I resented her treatment of me, but as I stood in front of the full length mirror and gazed at the image of myself, I realized that I was destined to be her servant. A life long dream, me in a dress, was being fulfilled. Her insistence that I conduct myself in this manner was done in the spirit of love. As a result, I strove harder to return that love. I felt more at ease and readily accepted her authority.

There were problems for me during this adjustment period, the main one being Mistress Joan's guests who visited us on occasion. My heart was in my throat when Miss Sylvia, one of Mistress Joan's friends, arrived for the first time since I assumed my new status. I felt betrayed. Our 'secret' was exposed. False Alarm. This wonderful woman put me at ease. I was relieved and more devoted to Mistress Joan than before. These visits continued as the number of guests increased, Mistress Joan's intimate lady friends. I felt so comfortable in their presence and it showed. I looked forward to their visits. It couldn't have been better, but Mistress Joan soon proved it could be better.

Back-track for a moment. On the second Sunday of every month, Mistress Joan's friends would gather for dinner which I happily prepared and served. It was a labor of love. One Sunday, after I had cleared the table and served the post prandial libation, I was summoned to the parlor where they were gathered and instructed to remove my nylon maid's uniform and close my eyes. I was dumbfounded and embarrassed. "You may now open your eyes". What a surprise. Miss Sylvia was holding-up a most gorgeous black satin maid's uniform. My heart jumped mega beats. Within moments I was walking around the room, stroking my new dress to savor the texture, looking in the mirror, crying with joy, and hugging each and every lady in the room. I was in heaven. Mistress Joan then commanded me to present myself before her. I dutifully complied, deep curtsey and lowered eyes. Another gift. A pair of fine kidskin elbow length gloves. So beautiful, so sensuous. Could my heart stand anymore joy? My euphoria was brought back to earth when Mistress Joan reminded me of my position. I don't think my shoes touched the floor for the rest of the day.

Mistress Joan instituted a new regimen for me shortly thereafter. I was no longer allowed to eat dinner with her. I was now required to stand in a servile position at a discrete distance from Mistress Joan's dinner table, and only allowed to eat whatever food was left-over, and only in a kneeling position at the low table. I felt more and more servile to her desires. Whatever male thoughts I may have had were fast evaporating. I was her absolute servant, her obedient sissy servant.

Some thoughts though, remained. I still had carnal visions whenever Mistress Joan's guests were present. I confessed these thoughts to her. I was afraid that I might not be able to control myself if I were ever in their presence while unaccompanied. We decided that a chastity device might be a suitable solution. It seemed like an eternity from the time I revealed my innermost feelings to the time the device arrived. I trembled with anticipation and trepidation as Mistress Joan fitted the She Male Belt to me. I knew that once the device was secured, I would be under her complete control and could only perform as a male at her bidding. I viewed myself in the mirror and gently stroked the device. I cried with joy and fear. I hugged her then fell to me knees and nestled my face against her womanhood. I really don't remember much more of that evening. I was too excited. My male member strained against the confines of the device. It was both frightening and pleasurable. I felt an inner warmth overcome me when Mistress Joan placed her hand on the device and gently stroked it. (And after these many years, I continue to have the same feeling, only more intense) It took me several weeks before I felt fully comfortable wearing what I call my 'Love Device'. Now, every morning while I am still in my night gown, I raise the gown to display my devotion and submission to her. She responds by deeply kissing me and rubbing the Love Device. A sissy couldn't ask for any more, or so I believed.

Some months later, at the monthly dinner, I was absolutely flabbergasted as the guests arrived in spectacular evening gowns. What's going on? I soon found out. After dinner was completed, I was summoned into the parlor much as when I was given a bridal satin maid's uniform and kidskin gloves. Incidentally, I now have four additional satin uniforms, each a different pastel color, with matching kidskin gloves. The ladies were sitting in an arc. Mistress Joan was seated in the center, flanked by Miss Lucy and Miss Barbara. Miss Sylvia was standing to the side. My mind went into overdrive as I viewed them. The gowns were to die for and all I had on was a satin maid's uniform. Mistress Joan beckoned for me to kneel before them. As I knelt and lowered my eyes in total submission, each of them read aloud a reaffirmation of my vows (promises) to Mistress Joan. I humbly agreed as I had done before. Miss Sylvia walked behind me, placed a dog collar around my neck and intoned words to the affect that the collar signified my total and absolute submission to my beloved Mistress. I assented to the oath. The lock snapped. I was now even more the servile 'property' of the most wonderful woman in the world than I had ever been before. I was now required to kiss her feet, which I did with the utmost of love. My now securely encased male member made its presence known. It was a reminder of my station in life. I was no longer a man. As I reared back to the upright position with my eyes focused on her feet, Mistress Joan snapped a leash onto my collar and told me that I was now her property, total and complete. I caressed my collar with my gloved hands and thanked her for the honor of serving her. I kissed her feet with absolute devotion. It was pure love. I can't ever remembering how wonderful I felt as I did then. Each of her friends took turns leading me around the room by my leash. By the time the evening was over, and they had left, I was in agony due to my male member having a life of its own.

I was required to wear my wonderful collar 24/7. Again the angst. Would anyone at work notice, what would I say? Thankfully, it never came to pass. At work I would rub the collar, and sometimes my Love Device, just to remind myself of Mistress Joan's love. It also felt good. A hard to describe good. On many occasions the most wonderful woman in the world would decide to leave the leash attached to my collar when I when I went to work. I at first had qualms about this idea, but dutifully complied. I tucked leash under my shirt as best I could and hoped above all hope that no one would notice. No one did. As that first day progressed, I soon realized the wisdom of her decision. Many times during the day, I found myself gently embracing the leash. The feel of the chain was absolutely exciting. Oh to have Mistress Joan holding it, pulling and guiding me. I couldn't get home fast enough. (Note: The dog collar has since been replaced by a stainless steel reinforced leather collar)

The leash also added a new dimension to our lives. At bedtime, I kneel before her and ask that my leash be attached. I then request her permission to join her in her bed. If it is granted, she will place the loop over her wrist and guide me into her bed. I am 'joined' to her for the night. It is such a secure feeling. If it is not granted, I sleep on a cot. The same sort of ritual is also enacted when she decides to have me escort her on outings for shopping or dinner. I am always, and I mean always, tethered to her whenever we leave the house. Most often, the leash is guided down the sleeve of my jacket so as to avoid detection. It will appear as if we are holding hands. Very often she will pull on the leash just to let me know she is in command. On the many occasions that we visit her friends, the leash is not concealed. I am always in a state of perpetual absolute euphoria on these occasions.

In the several years that we have been devoted readers of the Petticoat Discipline Quarterly, there have been many interesting revelations of Petticoating and the affects it has had on some very fortunate boys and men. But none have inspired us more than the diaper (nappy) training adventures. Mistress Joan continually extolled the virtues of this training. I sensed that she would be very happy if I too were to submit to diaper training and become her 'baby'. I broached subject one evening. Her response; hugs and passionate kisses. I knew then that my life had just assumed a new dimension.

Mistress Joan led me to the bedroom, ordered me to remove all my clothes except my bra. Of course the collar, leash, and Love Device remained in place. She had me lay on a rubber sheet, massaged my nether regions with fragrant baby oil, all the while kissing me on the lips and neck, and gently rubbing my Love Device. Before I knew it, I was diapered and a stout rubber panty placed over the diaper. What a sensational emotion! Before long I was completely dressed in 'baby' clothes; a dress that hardly was below the diaper, a bonnet, and booties. Next were a pair of heavy grade satin mittens which she secured to my hands. During the entire time she was dressing me, she kissed and caressed me, rubbed my device. I trembled with joy. Then the crowning delight, she placed an over sized pacifier (dummy) in my mouth and paraded me around the room so I could see myself in the mirror, first walking, then crawling. My excitement at my new station in life overcame me. I prostrated myself before her and rubbed my pacifier against her shod foot, her hands, her sacred area. I was wild with emotion. If it were not for my Love Device, the events of that day would have been vastly different.

I spent most of the remaining time that day crawling around our home, walking was forbidden. I was fed warm milk from a special baby bottle and spoon fed soft food. In some ways it was very humiliating, but also exceptionally enjoyable. I was completely helpless and under her absolute dominance. I am only treated to babyhood once or twice a month, and only if my Mistress deems it. I so look forward to those times. They are a great pleasure for me. A reward for my service to her.

The first monthly dinner after my introduction to the joys of being a completely dependent infant was one I can never forget. The ladies arrived on time, arms loaded with gifts for the 'blessed event' and a share of the evening's repast. As they were enjoying their meal, I was relegated to laying on the couch sucking on a bottle of warm milk. Dinner over, these beautiful woman, in spirit and body, celebrated by giving me gifts appropriate to my infant status. One gift in particular was absolutely spectacular. Miss Lucy presented me with special pair of shoes she had invented and made. High toed shoes. Once on, I could not stand. I was forced to crawl like the baby I am for the remainder of the evening to the great delight of the circle of friends. Helplessness complete. In appreciation. I paid homage to them by massaging their legs and 'kissing' their feet. It felt so good. The pacifier has now become an integral part of my wardrobe. I place it in my mouth as soon as I come home and sleep with it firmly in my mouth all night. I may only remove it with Mistress Joan's permission.

My love for my Mistress Joan has only become greater since that fateful Super Bowl Sunday. I feel so honored and pleased to be able to serve her with all my heart and soul. My total servitude to her gives her extreme pleasure which in turn makes it all worthwhile for me. I often stand in front of the mirror to remind myself of the super gift that has been given to me. My heart is in my throat as I caress my satin uniform and stroke my steel collar. Had it not been for Mistress Joan's gentle and loving guidance, I have no doubt that I would be sitting alone in my apartment, dressed in some sort of female clothing, feeling sorry for myself and most probably drunk.

I hope Mistress Joan will allow me to again express my devotion to her in another letter to you, Dearest Aunt Helga, at some time in the future. Thank you for your fantastic work.

Mistress Joan's Sissy Husband & Loving Servant
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Just a note to tell you that I have just sent you a letter from my Sissy Husband. He finally wrote it.

Also, we, my three friends and I will be forming our own company soon. Guess who will be the first employee.

The items of clothing, etc, you now have has inspired me to go on to higher levels of keeping my husband enraptured.

Mistress Joan

Thank you both for your letters. Much like the previous letter, crossdressing leading to a life long desire to be submissive and controlled, you are just so fortunate to have such a beautiful and understanding wife.

Auntie Helga