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I am so pleased that you has been able to continue this site and thank you for all your hard work. Having read the experiences of petticoating on here for some time now I began to feel a little selfish as I'd not contributed so here is my report on how I came to be in a relationship where I am very much the boy who is directed by his Wife/Boss/Mummy. Her exact role changes to fit her desires at the time and to suit how she feels I need to be treated. Four years ago I was divorced having split from my wife of 25 years and seeking a relationship in which I would feel more comfortable and happy. I met Tsarina as I call her on an internet dating site which was not one of the dubious ones but quite straight and 'normal'. From our first meeting we got on like a house on fire and we began seeing each other more and more. I should explain that I have enjoyed dressing in Ladies clothes since my teens and was determined that this would not be a surprise to Tsarina and so gently began to describe to her alternative forms of living and relationships. The big moment came when I told her that I had dresses and underwear and regularly dressed in the evenings for myself. She was a little taken aback but decided it wouldn't hurt anyone just to look so asked to see me in my nicest outfit there and then. That shook me but I went to my bedroom and selected a short black skirt with white blouse accompanied by dark stockings, blue court shoes and shoulder length wig. I put makeup on sparingly since I have little skill doing it. On my return to the lounge my lady looked stunned and after a minute said that I looked gorgeous! I cannot explain how happy and relieved that made me feel and Tsarina then enjoyed playing with 'her dolly' for the rest of the evening altering my hair and makeup and having me dress in other outfits. After a few months of this in which my feelings of submission were fully revealed to her, Tsarina told me on February 29th that she was marrying me in September and instructed me to make all the arrangements. Her tone said that this was not negotiable and again it made me so happy to be so directed by her. On our wedding day it was I who wore something borrowed and blue as she had lent me a blue and white garter to wear over the tan stockings I had on under my conventional suit. On our wedding night I was told that my life henceforth was to be one in which Tsarina was the Boss and it was my duty to be her 'wife'. One of the symbols of my acceptance of this duty was that I was henceforth always to wear female underwear and learn to curtsey to her and her friends when they came to call. This was all set out in a contract that I signed and which is updated each year on our anniversary. These days we both still work but as I shall reach retirement before my dear wife she has informed me that I will then be expected to be dressed as her maid more or less full time and look after all the household chores. Misdemeanours and failure to meet her standards as maid and housewife will lead to greater levels of the discipline I have come to expect. Tsarina's skills using a cane for example have improved over the years due to my many lapses. Tsarina is now also exploring the idea of having me in infant clothes and regressing me to a state of greater dependence on her. I have little dresses with many frills and panties similarly decorated which she selects for me to wear on occasion and I have to drink from a baby's bottle and so on. This is something which I do enjoy as it is I suppose the ultimate in submission and defencelessness. This report has been long enough now I feel and perhaps I shall describe more of my new and much loved life at another time. There are those perhaps who may doubt that such a life really exists outside fantasies but I promise that all the above is actually true. I never dreamed that it could actually happen but one simply has to find the right person I guess. 'pink pansy' Thank you for your lovely letter pansy. I'm sure Tsarina will love having such a sissy for a husband. You be sure to treat her with the utmost respect. Auntie Helga |