With that, she gave the leash a gentle tug and urged the pet onto the operating table. It was lightly padded and covered with white plastic, a new sanitary sheet. Hands were secured with leather straps to the sides, the middle was similarly immobilized and the ankles restrained at the base of the table. Also somewhere in this I spoke about how I was not good at reading hints and that I liked to know exactly what I was doing right or wrong. I mentioned that I would like her to help me be better by spanking me but she was not enthusiastic about that. Her comment being that I was not a child and she did not want to treat me as a child. A couple of days later I finally got up the nerve to tell her everything that was on my mind. I started by telling her how much I wanted to be a disabled woman all the time. We discussed it for a while and she said she didn't have any problems with it but did I actually want to be a woman. I told her that I wasn't completely sure but I did want to have real breasts and at least try living full time as a woman. She said that I had better make up my mind because it would be hard to live as a man with breasts. She had a good point there and I told her that I was sure I wanted to live as a woman from there on. She smiled and said that was fine with her but she had a few conditions. That she would have conditions surprised me. When she brought out a printed list of her conditions it made me realize she had actually been planning this for quite a while and had done a lot of research. Tonight’s night of worship went really well. First I greeted her on my knees as I always do. She presented her hand to kiss. Then we went into the living room to chat. She sits on her couch and I always sit on the floor at her feet. Who did I recruit for this mission? My neighbor. She was (she moved later) an airline flight attendant and married to a successful engineer. We live in a city with row houses with common walls. We knew that she and her husband had a happy sexually fulfilling marriage — thanks to the common walls. We knew them pretty well and had the occasional dinner. Her husband was a runner and it was obvious that he was in good shape. I confided in her and asked her to be the key holder. She immediately thought it would be great fun. Unfortunately, her husband was not amused and was not willing to participate in any way. I didn’t tell my husband, but simply invited her over for coffee about a week later. She was wearing the key.

The two women then left the room briefly to wash thoroughly and put on their surgical gowns, gloves and masks to ensure sanitary conditions. I felt so bad for my husband, he was so let down. His self confidence slipped. “Okay” I said, time to get serious. I re-read “The Secret” a second time. I went on google and typed in “A person getting his dream job” and when I found the picture I wanted, I cut it out and then took a picture of my husband and pasted his face onto the picture I had cut out. It was of a man holding his cell phone in one hand reading “You got the job!” and his other hand was doing the high five pump in the air and he was jumping for joy. It is similar in our FLR. My wife also wants a man who is something she can outwardly be proud of. But she lets me be the man in the house I want to be there: a beta male, submissive and also a bit masochistic. All very good information, but what about her bad habits? She’s human and she’ll have them too. Will she be able to “man up” and honestly say she may not be the best at handling money for example? Or will she just not say anything and head to the casino for a gambling spree? The latter is more likely – and on that one point the whole FLR plan falls apart. Partners need to be well aware of each other’s capabilities and the best person for handling each task. It still may end up with him doing household chores, but at least he is an equal partner instead of a slave. He doesn’t have to lose his self respect.Then she took an overnight bag with her things and a fresh bra and panty set for the slave and gently led her pet by the leash through the door to the garage. She opened the rear hatch of her sports utility vehicle and motioned for the slave, still naked, to climb in. A big woven wire dog pen was anchored there. So, buying an Asset would mean dipping into the cash reserves I had from selling my house in town, but it meant a better shot at making a go of the farm, so I decided to go for it. So now we were on our way to the market, and I was rather anxious to be at my shopping. "There's the catalogue,” Mike told me. We were flying across some long and flat landscape. "Have a look and see what you think..." This cover served to help keep the pet warm during the journey, to hide the pen’s contents from onlookers through the windows and prevent the slave from learning the location of the Surgical Mistress’ home. Thank you, Goddess.” I said immediately. “..I deserved that.” She told me never to say what I said again. I assured her I would never say it again.

I’ve come to say goodbye, dear Peter. We must all move on. You could only be our gate slave for a short time. We need our slaves for harder work, to keep the farm going. I managed to get you transferred to a chain in the Barn. I hope you are grateful. The Barn is much easier work than work the fields! You would not like being a chained slave in the fields! You have a new supervisor now. You must obey her as you would me. I hope you don’t think I was too cruel with you. I was strict, as I had to be. But you endured so well! I was proud to be your supervisor. We have a new slave coming tomorrow, and I will put him on the gate, on your old chain. But I wish I still had you! Goodbye, dear Peter.” Good afternoon, Peter. Please step onto the scales. And you will need to slip off your gown too. We need your exact weight, without clothes”. Hi, my name is Tim Robinson and this is the story of my female led marriage. I met my wife Lauren Buren in college, and for as long as I have been with her she has always been the one calling the shots in our relationship. I always went along with it because I have always been a passive guy and I love her. When I met her mother Linda, I learned that she has always been the head of the household, and I understood why Lauren was so dominant. Fast forward a bit and I had asked her to spank me in regard to it excited me. More discussions that kind of brought out my desires to look after her. She did whip me a few times and then there was a break. She said she found it wrong to hurt someone. I said things like other people do it and that it helped me stay on a submissive headspace and so on. So now she whips me but not as punishment but as a reward and it’s her way of supporting me. She will say I am doing this for you. On the detail, when I am to be whipped, she will tell me to go and get ready. I have to get the ropes and toe them to the corners of the bed. I then remove my clothes and lie spread eagle and she ties me down and gags me because we both know I am too weak to endure on my own. At this stage I am questioning in my own mind if I am just too weird. Then she whips me. It’s insanely painful and I am totally focused on surviving the pain. Then it’s over. When faced with lots to do and a sense of weakness, think of delegation. When you delegate, you still have to supervise the one you delegated to and you cannot let it go on its own. What you delegated should have been on your “top ten” list and ranked as important. You can use technology, make him create the curriculums while you just reorganize it, or you can seek help from a friend or expert (consultant).The veterinarian now began the procedure in earnest as Mistress Claire looked on in pride and amazement. The Surgical Mistress described only the highlights of the operation to the subject, not wishing to cause undue concern. Now, She expects me to be a responsible adult who is able to self task and achieve the goals that support Her. Do I answer to Her at the end of the day? Yes of course I do. Do I worship Her? Absolutely I finally got up the courage to tell my wife and her response amazed me. She just said that she knew that and it was fine with her. She loved what was inside and my feminine side was part of what she had always loved.

I completed college with a degree in engineering and married the girl I met in college. We were both engineers and soon both had good jobs and were on the way to what most consider the good life. We decided that we enjoyed the things a good salary could buy and that children were not a part of our future. The whole reason we have changed to an FLR is because the previous paradigm of a dominant male ego trying to lead the family failed catastrophically and my Wife was constantly trying to manage all of the fallout from that. Please, please, pay close attention to formatting instead of giant walls of text. It makes the story MUCH more readable and enjoyable. No, I’m afraid it’s beyond my skills, but I’ll assist the veterinarian if she’ll allow that. The procedure is complicated and best left in the hands of a professional. She’ll ensure that it is done safely and all but painlessly under local anesthesia.But I finally got my gift at the end of the night and it was amazing. First she led me into the kitchen and told me to get on all fours. Then she revealed the gift from the cupboard. She laughed at my expression. “You no doubt thinking that you are not a slave. Is that right? All men think that! It’s no problem! We have developed methods which efficiently transform any man, even the most arrogant, self-willed ones (like you, Peter!) into good slaves. Our methods are very simple: we keep our slaves chained, and we enforce our strict rules with severe punishments. Our methods have worked on every man who has ever come here. Our methods have never yet failed to make a man into a slave!” Finally, the Surgical Mistress announced: “I’m happy to report that you’ve been neutered. Ordinarily, chemical castration is at least theoretically reversible, but given the action of the preservative, that does not apply in your case.” Oh, good. Great, actually. I hope I did the right thing, but... That one of mine looks like a pretty tough cookie...."