Ivana Pushing Sissy's Limits

"You look ravishing," my wife Ivana said as I stood before her in a short red velvet dress with white tights and black Blahnik mary janes heels. She walked over to put a hair band in my long black hair. It was down to my shoulders now, flat-ironed straight.

We stood together in front of the mirror after she was done. In her heels, Ivana was four inches taller. We looked like the perfect man and wife, except I was the wife.

Ivana was stunningly svelte. She exemplified grace in her fitted shirt, tailored wool slacks and leopard pumps. No matter the situation, Ivana, in dress, manner and demeanor left no doubt who ran our relationship.

"What's wrong, Leslie?" Ivana asked as I helped her on with her coat.

"This is the first time I'll be wearing a dress," I said following her out to the car. "There will be fifty couples. All the other executives and their spouses, we've never met many of them. I've never had to attend a party in a dress before. These people are all rednecks. This isn't Napa Valley. They use the N-word like it's no big deal."

"Baby, where is all this coming from?" Ivana asked as she started her Aston Martin. "All the girls are so excited to see it. You worked for months making it. Your girlfriend Karen would be so disappointed if you didn't wear it. We've been here six months now and everyone has been really accepting of your feminization."

That word, that terrible word. Ivana bandied it about like it wasn't in any way evocative.

"The guys ignore me," I said as the pressure of a freak out built inside me.

"Normally, I'd cut you off and that would be the end of it," Ivana reminded me then turned to look at me as we waited at a stoplight. "Leslie, I'm a little hurt. We're a team and you're excelling at the submissive role has vaulted my career. Don't you think showing up in this pretty dress sends a message about me, about us? Don't you still want to be a team?"