I was on the road for a week, during which time my Wife and I were observing my chastity with frequent crossdressing teasing Skype sessions.  It was hot!  Upon return, I was in a state!

In honour of the occasion of my coming home, I had Mistress’ permission to worship Her while She sleeps. This involves slowly servicing Her to satisfaction, following which I get to hold Her while She falls asleep. Having done that, I stepped out of the bedroom and prepared myself: pink nightie with pink lace stay-ups. I am allowed to get gently high (unless this practice is illegal in your jurisdiction, in which case the reader is directed to skip this sentence) at which time sissy may creep into bed, lay at Mistress lovely feet, and to softly worship them until sunrise. 

She didn’t specify, but I shall safely presume that sissy gets coffee duty too.

This is Sissy Heaven. 

I am pleased to report that this devotion to my Wife has proven quickly addictive, and that I have come to crave being in the thrall of Her power by worshipping Her feet every night. Sometimes She will give me a sly smile and suggest that She might read for a while if I would care to enjoy the opportunity. In a flash, I am at the other end of the bed, performing my sissy devotions, kissing and licking her feet, with my eyes rolled up in utter bliss. It maybe just me, and I'd hate to influence anyone else in this regard, but a touch of weed (legal in our jurisdiction) puts me into a profound state of submissiveness. Sometimes I float like that until dawn, with occassional furtive replinishments of weed, whereupon I make haste to offer Her coffee as She awakens.

Just two years ago my Wife didn't know about my sissy self. In the interval since this sissy came out to Her, our "new normal" has progressed to the point where I can offer Her coffee while sissy is wearing a pink nightie (It says on the front, "I wake early for coffee!"), pink thigh-high stockings, and sensible low-heel morning pumps, in pink, of course. My discovery is thus: I was dragged into my current state of being a sissy faggot slut hypno-slave very much against my conscious will. I endured anxiety, shame, remorse and self-loathing enroute to my sissy self-discovery. I dressed, I purged, I dressed, I hated myself... but I kept doing it again! The catalyst was pleasure. Dressing feels so fucking good that I was helpless to resist; no matter what noises my brain was making. Far more effective at behaviour modification than any punishment or torture, pleasure is ultimately irresistible. HUMANS HAVE A VERY LIMITED CAPACITY TO RESIST PLEASURE.