No Confessions Needed

Part One:

Nancy wasn't trying to snoop.

She had just been lounging on the couch in her oversized hoodie, nipples poking through the hoodie's soft fabric, lazily scrolling through her phone until the battery died with a quiet buzz. The charger was missing again--probably tangled up in Alex's nightstand--and he was in the shower, steam curling from the half-open bathroom door.

His laptop was right there on the kitchen counter. It's cracked screen still glowed faintly. She padded over, bare feet silent against the hardwood floor, and lifted the lid.

She froze.

The browser popped up immediately. No lock screen. No warning. Just a paused video, full screen, high definition--and unmistakably filthy.

A slender, shaved sissy, legs spread and back arched, fingering himself on camera. Gagged. Moaning. Dressed in a frilly pink bra and matching panties. There was a dildo on the bed beside him, gleaming with lube. His eyes rolled back with each thrust of his fingers. A plug twitched in his hole. He was desperate, needy, and ruined.

Alex had been watching it.

Nancy's heart pounded. Her face flushed. Her thighs pressed together. She didn't close the tab. Instead, she minimized it... and started digging.

His browser history was a goldmine: "sissy training," "forced feminization," "husband humiliation." Videos of men in panties begging to be used. Subreddits about crossdressing secrets and anonymous sissy confessions. Porn titles that made her pulse quicken: "He caught me in his wife's lingerie and fucked me anyway," "Sissy made to edge while Mistress watches," "Dressed like a whore for him and begged to be filled."

She wasn't angry.

She was soaked.

When Alex stepped out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips, steam clinging to his tan skin, Nancy was back on the couch--legs curled, face calm, laptop closed like nothing had happened.

He had no idea.

Nancy couldn't stop thinking about it. The image of that slutty little sissy spreading himself for the camera was burned into her brain. The way he moaned--high-pitched, desperate--as his fingers pushed into his tight, shaved hole. The lace garter belt barely clung to his thighs. The vibrating plug twitching inside him.

Alex had jerked off to that.

Her dominant, confident, broad-shouldered husband... had his cock in hand, stroking it to some whimpering femboy in heels begging to be used like a cumdump.

And fuck, she loved it.

That night, Nancy curled into him like she always did, her head against his chest, her hand draped innocently over his waist. She felt his breathing slow and waited until the weight of sleep sank into him.

When she was sure he was out cold, she gently slipped free, rolled onto her back, and slipped in her earbuds.

She reopened the video on her phone, screen dimmed low, volume up just enough to flood her head with moans. That same sissy from earlier... gagged, flushed, legs spread, begging for permission to cum with his tight little hole stuffed full.

Her hand slid down under the covers, slow and careful, fingertips grazing the edge of her panties. She didn't move fast. She didn't want to wake him up. The danger of it made it even hotter.

She bit her lip as her fingers circled her clit. Her other hand crept up under her shirt to tease one of her nipples. She imagined Alex on his knees--collared, blushing, cock leaking in a pair of lace panties while she stood over him with a crop.

The orgasm rolled through her in slow, tight waves. Her body trembled silently, thighs twitching as she buried her face in the pillow to muffle her whimpers. When it passed, she tucked her phone away, pulled the blanket up to her chin, and fell asleep smiling.

She dreamt of pink lace, strapped toys, tied wrists, and Alex moaning into a pillow while she called him her little fucktoy.

The next morning, she booked the hotel.

A luxury suite--mirrored walls, plush king bed, private balcony, and room service. Secluded. High-end. A full weekend. Just the two of them. No distractions. No interruptions.

And no idea what she had planned for him.

She wasn't going to confront him. That would kill the fun. No, Nancy wanted to unravel him. Tease him. Push him into admitting nothing while she proved she already knew everything.

She started watching him differently.

The signs were all there. Little things, now that she was looking. The way his gaze lingered when she walked past in a thong. The way he'd go a little too quiet when she joked about pegging. The way he got quiet whenever she wore something soft. Pink. Delicate.

He wanted it.

He just didn't know that she now knows.

The first test was easy.

She walked out of the bathroom one morning, still damp from the shower, wearing nothing but a silk robe. She didn't bother tying it. She let it hang open as she bent over the dresser to grab panties. She saw his eyes flick up from his phone and lock on her ass, her shaved pussy glistening in the morning light.

"I think I need to start shaving you too," she said casually, sliding her fingers down his thigh as she passed the bed.

He gave a nervous laugh.

But his cock twitched.

Nancy took note.

Later that week, she left a soft pink thong on the bed. Not hers. A brand-new one. Lacy, delicate, girly. Folded neatly, center of the bed, as if it had been accidentally forgotten. When she got home from work, it had moved. Not to the hamper. Not back in the drawer.

It just... moved.

He had picked it up. Touched it. Probably smelled it. Maybe more.

She didn't ask.

He didn't confess.

They both pretended nothing had happened.

But Nancy's pussy ached with anticipation as she secretly packed a second bag--one just for him. A black satin dress. Thigh-high stockings. Lube. Toys. A slim pink plug. A leather paddle. And a soft collar with a tiny golden tag that read simply, Slut.

He thought it was just a weekend getaway. A chance to unwind. To reconnect. Maybe fuck her in the hot tub like they used to.

He was wrong.

She wasn't planning to let him fuck anything.

By Sunday night, Alex would be dressed like the little cum-hungry whore he jerked off to. And Nancy would be the one holding the leash.

Part Two:

The hotel was exactly what Nancy wanted: sleek, discreet, and tucked away from the noise of the city. The concierge smiled too much. The elevators moved too slowly. But the moment they stepped into the room, it was like entering a different world.

Warm gold lighting. Blackout curtains. A king bed with blood-red sheets and a wall-length mirror facing it. A minibar. A soaking tub. And silence.

Alex dropped the bags by the wall and stretched, his shirt lifting just enough to reveal that V-line she loved. Nancy watched him quietly, a small smile playing on her lips as she kicked off her boots.

"This place is..." he started.

"Perfect," she finished.

He nodded, maybe a little shy. He didn't know she had picked this place because it was adult-only. Because it offered custom room service from a very specific menu. Because the soundproofing was tested and guaranteed.

She didn't tell him that. She just walked up behind him, slid her arms around his waist, and whispered, "Take your clothes off."

He chuckled like he thought it was a joke.

But she didn't laugh.

He looked at her.

She looked right back.

Her hand slid under his shirt, fingers tracing over his abs. "I want to see all of you."

Alex licked his lips and stripped slowly--shirt, socks, jeans. He hesitated at the boxers.

She didn't say a word.

He pushed them down.

His cock was already half-hard, flushed, and twitching, and she didn't even touch it. She let her gaze linger--slow, approving, unhurried.

"Good," she said softly. Then she kissed his cheek and turned away.

She unpacked two bags.

The first held his things. Nothing unusual, just the clothes he'd packed himself.

The second was hers.

She pulled out lingerie first; a black lace bra, crotchless panties, and thigh-highs. She laid them on the bed one piece at a time, like she wanted him to watch. Then came a small velvet pouch. A paddle. A slim pink plug. A bottle of lube.

Alex froze.

His breath caught.

She didn't look at him. Just kept unpacking.

Then--deliberately, casually--she set down a soft black satin dress. Stockings. A garter. A matching thong. And last, the collar: thin, pink leather, with a tiny golden tag that read Slut in elegant script.

She turned to him. His cheeks were burning.

She didn't ask.

He didn't confess.

"Shower," she said, nodding toward the bathroom. "Get clean. Take your time."

She didn't need to say why.

He didn't dare ask.

As the door closed behind him, Nancy slipped off her clothes, her nipples already hard, her pussy slick with anticipation. She slid onto the bed, legs spread, thighs still sticky from the thoughts she'd been keeping to herself all week. She didn't need to touch herself. Watching him react was enough.

When he came out--towel around his waist, skin glistening, eyes uncertain--she was waiting.

The dress was laid out.

The collar rested in the center.

She met his gaze and didn't blink.

"Put it on."

His lips parted. "What--"

She cocked her head. "You heard me."

There was silence.

He didn't move.

She didn't break eye contact.

And then--slowly, reluctantly, with a twitch in his cock that gave him away--he dropped the towel and reached for the thong.

He didn't say a word.

She didn't have to.

Alex picked up the thong like it might burn him.

His hands shook. Not much, but enough that Nancy noticed. He stepped into it--slow, careful, like he was afraid she'd laugh.

She didn't.

She watched, lips parted slightly, chest rising with shallow breaths, as he slid the lace up his thighs and settled the fabric around his cock. It didn't fit well. It wasn't made for him. The head of his dick peeked over the top, already swelling.

He stepped into the panties--black lace, delicate, too tight for his hardening cock. The fabric barely held him. The head pushed out over the waistband, flushed and leaking. Precum oozed down the shaft, glistening in the dim light.

"Messy already?" Nancy teased. "You've barely even started."

He reached for the stockings.

"Leave those for last," she murmured.

He paused.

She reclined back on the bed, legs spread wide, two fingers lazily circling her clit, already slick from watching him squirm. Her eyes locked on his. "Next, the garter. Then the dress."

He obeyed.

No questions.

No denial.

Just trembling fingers hooking the garter belt around his hips, fastening the clasps, and fumbling for the zipper on the satin dress. It slid over his shoulders like water, hugging his lean frame and dragging over his rock-hard, cold nipples. He gave a little gasp as the fabric brushed them.

Nancy noticed. "Now the stockings."

She let her hand drift between her legs, showing off her dripping cunt with a queen's confidence. Alex glanced over just in time to see two fingers slip into her wet pussy. She let out a soft moan as he reached for the stockings. The sight of her, legs spread, playing with her pussy, moaning softly, made his knees weak. He fastened the stocking to the garter, hands fumbling.

Alex stood there frozen. Silent. His cock tented the fabric awkwardly. Knees bent inward for what seemed like an eternity. His eyes to the ground and heart racing. All the while feeling her gaze burn through him. He could hear how wet she was as she fingered herself, then slowly pulled her fingers out to draw circles around her clit. His cock pulsed.

"Does this turn you on?" she asked in a low voice.

He didn't confess. But his cock betrayed him as it twitched visibly, throbbing under the thin fabric. Nancy noticed. All the answer I need. Very sincere too.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came.

"Don't." Her voice dropped, feral. "Crawl."

He blinked.

She pointed to the edge of the bed. "On all fours, sweetie. Crawl to me."

His breath hitched--but he obeyed. Dropping to his hands and knees, the satin clinging to his ass, cock bobbing between his legs, slick trails of precum dripping onto the sheets with every movement.

"Good boy," she purred, legs still wide, fingers working fast. "I've never seen your cock drool this much."

He stopped with his head right above her groin. She held up the collar--pink leather, delicate, with a little gold tag reading Slut shimmering in the light.

She fastened it around his neck, then gave the tag a firm tug, pulling him forward until his face was inches from her soaked pussy.

"Show me how desperately you want to please me," she whispered. "Clean up my frothing pussy," she added, yanking down on the collar.

Alex's lips landed on her soaked clit, and her slick juices splashed across his face. He closed his eyes and started lapping, sucking, and kissing her folds like it was the only thing that mattered. His hands gripped the bed as his body shook. She moaned deep and loud, grinding her hips against his face.

"Fuck yes! That's it." She moaned. "Just like that! I'm getting close."

Alex ran circles around her clit with his tongue as she panted, arched her back, and moaned louder. He felt like he was about to pull a muscle when her legs suddenly trembled, her thighs clamping around his face tight. She held him there, locked between her soaked lips as she came, grinding hard. Alex moaned into her pussy, smothered by her cunt, drenched in her cum. She rode his tongue until her spasms subsided.

When she finally let go, he sat back--gasping, dazed, face soaked. His lips were swollen, his chest heaving, and his cock visibly twitching below the hem of the dress, leaking freely onto the bed.

Nancy leaned forward, still catching her breath, and slapped his cock hard.

The sound was loud--wet and sharp. A thick drop of precum flung across his thigh.

She slapped it again. Then again--harder. Each time, more precum spattered. His cock twitching helplessly with every strike.

"That was just your warm-up, baby," she grinned darkly. "We've got all weekend."

To be continued in Part Three...