Becoming Daddy's Sissy Wife

For two years I’d been the perfect sissy, making sure my stepfather always came home to something my mother had never provided – a clean house and a warm meal. I’d taken pride in our house and my man, making him the center of my life. It wasn’t a sacrifice, and it wasn’t insurance against him someday changing his mind about me, it was simply me loving the man who’d earned the name Dad . . . and who I hoped would one day let me call him Daddy.

As my eighteenth birthday came to pass, I was rea...