But I was too deep into my new self by then, always longing formore contact with her clothes (and now what she put on her feet), andwilling to accept ...ll sorts of indignities to get it.After I was done making her boots clean and glossy, she told me tofetch three pair of boot trees from her closet. I had to put them intoall the boots and then spread them so they would keep the leather wellshaped. Even that menial task was translated into sexual stimulationby my reprogrammed thought patterns. . I watched entranced as she danced and unveiled each garment.“Honey, you can look but don’t touch. You can touch when I say you can.”This presentation was was a fantasy I didn’t know I had coming to fruition. The delayed touching was a wrinkle I hadn’t expected, but I was her slave at that point. I was just a passenger on this journey.She took her time dancing. One song ended, the next one played. Brenda can dance. Once she saw “twerking” was a thing, she committed herself to doing it. My wife. More

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