I still find it hard to believe that a wife as sweet as mine would set out to totally destroy my masculinity, but what's even harder to believe is that she'd be able to do it in the space of just one unforgettable evening. At five o'clock that evening, I was just a fairly normal guy with a hint of a fetish for wearing corsets, knickers and stockings, but by the end of the night, it was doubtful that anyone would ever take me seriously as a man again.

I was sat on the sofa watching football on the television on that fateful day when everything changed. I could hear Lucy rushing round in the room next door, as she got things set up for one of her 'ladies only' lingerie and sex toys parties. She'd started hosting them ever since I lost my job, sometimes at our place and sometimes going round to other women's houses. It was our only means of bringing in any money at that particular point in time, as I was struggling to find another job and do the manly thing of bringing home the bacon. And maybe my failure to contribute to the bills was one of the reasons for her saying what she said. It was those dreaded words that no man wants to hear - 'Come here, darling, we need to talk!'

'I'm coming,' I said, quickly jumping up off the sofa and walking through to our dining room. I was quite keen to see what was happening in there, because on party nights, Lucy moved out the table and turned the whole place into what was pretty much a sex shop, with racks of tempting lingerie and uniforms on the left-hand side and tables stacked with dildos, vibrators and other kinky toys to the right.

'Wow, you've been busy,' I said, admiring the total transformation of the room.

'And how about you?' she snapped straight back. 'Have you been busy? Have you even thought about looking for a new job today?'

I gulped. I always hated it when she nagged at me about finding work. But it seemed that was the least of my troubles that day. She clearly had other things on her mind.

'Because if you want to keep using these dildos and outfits, then you are going to have to pay for them,' said Lucy. 'And the only way you're going to be able to afford them is if you go out and get a job.'

'What do you mean?' I asked, playing dumb for a second, although already a major alarm bell had started ringing in the back of my head. Because the truth was I had occasionally 'borrowed' a few of Lucy's ridiculously tempting items of stock? And can you really blame me? Is there any man out there in the world who could have a virtual sex shop in his dining room and not want to have a little play with some things?

'You know exactly what I mean,' said Lucy, then she walked across to a rack of lingerie. She picked up a cute pink corset - one with matching pink panties and suspenders attached - and then moved over to a table where she reached for a realistic, cock-shaped eight-inch dildo.

My heart started pounding.

'Recognise these?' asked Lucy, walking straight up to me and giving me a close-up look at the items. I shook my head, but without conviction. I could also feel myself blushing bright red.

'Th- they're your stock,' I stammered, wanting to say something but really not having a clue what to say. And I certainly didn't want to confess to having worn that pretty pink corset for a wanking session - one where I also sucked on the dildo and imagined I was giving proper head to a guy.

'Suppose I filmed you,' said Lucy, going in for the kill, then she grabbed my wrist and led me over to a table.

'Filmed me doing what?' I asked, still trying to play dumb but already fearing the absolute worst. Did she really have a recording of me masturbating in a slutty pink corset and stockings? And were we really about to stand side-by-side and watch the female me trying to deep-throat suck an eight-inch cock?

Well, you can probably guess the answer - Lucy flipped open her laptop, then pressed a button to make that nightmare come to life. A video appeared in the middle of the screen with me all dolled up in the sexy pink corset, pink stockings and heels. It showed me curled up on the sofa with the eight-inch cock-shaped dildo in one hand and my own somewhat smaller erection in the other. Then it showed me putting the dildo in my mouth and swallowing inch after inch after inch; and then, with that rubber phallus still getting sucked, you see me spraying a sticky load all over the corset.

'So, where do we start?' asked Lucy, switching off straight after the money shot. We had watched the two-minute clip in total silence, because no words could have explained away my total horror and excruciating shame. I felt completely and utterly emasculated; and completely and utterly mortified; and a part of me wanted to run out of the room and cry like a girl. Because not only had my wife discovered my guiltiest secret - that I like to jerk off in ladies clothes - but she'd captured the whole thing forever on film.

'I can't believe you spied on me,' I muttered to Lucy, somehow trying to make her the bad one in this. But it didn't work. Because there was little doubt that she was the injured party here; and in truth, she could have been much more angry than she seemed to be.

'Look, I had no choice,' she told me, then she took a chance to have another swipe at my failure to hold down a job. 'These parties are the only way we have of making money right now, so I can't have my husband going round spunking on the corsets or sucking on the dildos or laddering the stockings. I'm the breadwinner in this household now, so I had to find out what was happening to my stock. I'm not stupid, Scott. I do spot when things aren't put back properly, or when something made of satin has been soiled with spunk.'

'But you spied on me,' I heard myself saying, still desperate to deflect some of the blame onto her.

'Yes, but only once! And not without good reason. It's not like you don't have a history of this kind of thing.'

Lucy took my hand and gave it a squeeze, then made me look straight into her eyes. She was smiling in that sexy way she smiles - a smile packed full of warmth and love for me - but it could also have been an assassin's smile. It was almost as if she was setting a trap.

'Look, I'm really, really sorry for spying,' said Lucy, using all her charms to get me exactly where she wanted me. 'But things are different now.'

'In what way?' I asked.

'With your cross-dressing,' said Lucy, still squeezing my hand. 'It didn't matter when you were just stealing my dirty knickers from the wash basket, or retrieving my laddered stockings from the bin. Because anything that's mine is yours, as well. But the things in this room are not mine. They all belong to the company and have to be paid for if they get damaged or lost.'

My head was spinning and I felt almost faint, as I tried to take this whole thing in. It seemed like she was saying she had always known about my dressing up games; and that the only thing that bothered her about them was the fact I was now making use of company stock.

'You mean you've always known?' I asked, still stunned; and Lucy burst out laughing at that.

'Of course, I've always known,' she said, then she leaned forward and gave me a kiss on the lips.

'And you don't mind me putting on stockings?' I asked.

'Well, I wouldn't go quite as far as that,' she said. 'Oh, how can I put it?'

She paused for thought, and while she thought about how to put it, she unbuttoned my shirt and then tugged it right off me. She didn't do it in a sexual way, like she was desperate to get my clothes off for sex, but I was too confused to go looking for reasons.

'Look,' she said, finally finding the words, 'all women know that all men are perverts. So when a man becomes your husband, you're always waiting to find out what that perversion will be. And it could be something truly awful. Something far, far worse than just wanking in knickers!'

Lucy smiled at me, then undid my flies and started to tug my trousers and boxer shorts down, and all of a sudden I found myself standing completely naked in front of her. Then she pointed to my dick - my tiny dick. Only two-inches long in its flaccid state and less than four at full stiffness!

'And that should have been the clue,' she said, now giggling at the very sight of it. Then she wiggled her little finger, mocking the length and girth of it in a way she had never done before.

'What do you mean?' I said, instinctively hurt by this blatant attack on my manhood.

'Well, it's tiny,' she said. 'In fact, it's absolutely minuscule. I mean, it's way too small to ever make a bulge in a manly pair of boxer shorts. But I guess it does look kind of cute in a feminine pair of pink satin panties.'

Now I was used to being naked in front of my wife, but for the first time ever in our relationship, I felt a sudden urge to cover my penis with my hands. It seemed to have shrivelled up a little bit smaller than usual, as if crawling back in on itself out of shame; and I began to agonise over whether it had ever been big enough to make Lucy climax. But I daren't ask her. Not with her in this mood. Because she seemed to be willing to say anything that night, and to confront any difficult issue, no matter how shameful or humiliating it might be for me.

'And so, let's get it in a pair of pink panties,' said Lucy, enjoying the obvious confusion in my eyes. Then she told me she had a deal in mind - a trade-off that might work for us both.

'Okay, what's the deal?' I queried, then she led me over to the racks of beautiful lingerie.

'The deal is this,' she said, encouraging me to rifle through all the corsets, basques and fancy frocks. 'If you agree to help me with the party tonight, you can pick out one outfit by way of a wage. It'll be yours to keep and wear when you like. And I'll even throw in a pair of stockings and a pair of high heel shoes, as well. Because you'd like to have your own girlie clothes, wouldn't you?'

'Maybe,' I answered, excited by the offer, but nervous about where all this was leading. 'But what sort of help do you want with the party? You always say they're 'ladies only', so I'm not really meant to be there.'

'Well, you will be a lady,' Lucy told me, quite forcefully, 'or, at least, a lady with a special twist.'

'Look, you can't be serious.'

She couldn't be, could she? But the look on her face said otherwise.

'Look, Scott, you don't have a job and we need to make more money,' she said. 'And so I want a model. I want a model for the lingerie and uniforms. And I think the novelty of a cross-dressed model might help create more of a party atmosphere. And when the party comes to life, that's when the cash till comes to life.'