"Dearest Diary, I am a the very happily married wife of my husband Gary, for going on forty years now (so you can guess I'm not a young gal!). These days, he should also be referred to as My Master if you get technical about it, but I prefer 'hubby'.

Gary was the only man I'd ever been intimate with. We were high school sweethearts. I have two grown sons, and have been a housewife for most of my life, though with the kids gone I do a lot of volunteer work. Some might say I had a pretty simple life.

Let me tell you what has happened in my life over the past year or so. It may be shocking to some, yet you have to understand how truly happy I am and accepting of the training I must endure. I hope you will see that I am a realistic person. So when I say that my marriage was a happy one, and one in which we had a good and healthy sex life, I feel I'm not fooling myself.

But on a day I will never forget, Gary, in an unusually serious and uneasy tone, announced to me in so many words that with my full permission, he wished to send me to John's on weekends for 'training'. John is one of Gary's good friends. I have known and liked him for many years as well. I will also refer to him as MY OVERSEER, as you will see later. Dr. Mark is also a friend to them both, but more on him later.

I suppose I have to confess to being a pretty submissive wife - and person for that matter. I knew Gary was alluding to 'sex' in some way when he talked about training, though I thought we had a sex life that pleased my hubby. We never did anything kinky, and he never struck me (even to this day), and we had your basic old-fashioned sex plus I would suck on his erection sometimes before hand - it was like for special occasions.

I know that most women reading this (if my private Diary should ever come 'to light) would say "stop right there!" I don't blame them for that attitude, but I agreed. If submitting to training strengthened my marriage then that was all I care about. And though some might criticize my insecurity, Gary asking this of me meant I probably needed it.

It turns out that my sweet Gary wanted me to return home from my sessions on the weekends in some form of ultra-submissive mindset. To this day I can't explain how it works, but I know that whatever dear John instills in me, it has increased Gary's ardor for me, and our five weekdays at home are a joy to look forward to. And how can that be bad? Oh Diary, how looking forward to Gary picking me up Sunday evenings sustains me!

It turns out that John and Dr. Mark belong to a club that had access to a huge ranch out in the suburbs. J-RANCH is owned by this woman, Mistress Joanne, 38. She seems to be the only woman involved here other than those being trained. It is well protected from the public, but takes only a half-hour for Gary to drive me there Friday afternoons and pick me up Sunday evening. I was glad that this is not too much of an inconvenience for him to have to take me. After all I figure, if I were a better wife all this would not have been necessary. I can't drive myself because for reasons that must have to do with my attitude adjustment, I was no longer allowed to drive - ever!

So I sleep at The Ranch for two nights, though some women, also ''slaves" here (there were about a half-dozen men who were members and about a dozen females from the best I could tell) stay all week. John has another woman under his 'tutelage' of about my age - his very own sister-in-law Judy! Sometimes she has to stay the whole week, but she is divorced and has no man to go home to anyway.

Gary is my Master as I've explained and technically John is my Overseer (or Trainer). Sometimes, I have called him "Mr. Agony" under my breath, for reasons you will see, which he seems to tolerate if he hears it. He is my de facto Master when I'm here, but I may not call him Master. When Gary comes for me on Sundays, John prepares a report for him in a sealed envelope that I must present to him. I know it's a naughty thought, but someday I would love to read one of them.

I am 5' 5'', 138 pounds and 35D-25-38 with an extended rear at 43 inches (they put me on all fours, bottom stuck out to the max to take this measurement!). They tell me I have a very small waist considering my biggish rear-end. At my weekly 'weigh-in" they calculate this ratio of waist to extended backside, that is of 25/43 or 40%, which I'm told is a truly desirable flaring at the hips. My breasts have grown heavier as I've aged and suckled two babies and my nipples are embarrassingly pronounced. I have kept myself in good physical shape though my legs are bit spindly and I'm not physically strong - not close to being as strong as mares of similar age such as Judy. Oh! Let me explain why I wrote 'mares'!

It was a chilly November Saturday when Gary took me for my first drive into the countryside to see John. He was nervous telling me that we were going to visit a ranch where female slaves were used for racing and farm work. I got a chill just picturing such a place.

We pulled up to a guarded gate and were admitted into this huge estate with a central mansion and assorted barns, stables and racetracks. When I asked him why I didn't need any luggage or personal items, he said that everything would be provided. It reminded me of that scandalous book 'Story of O', but I was happy that I had all my underwear on under my jersey and sweatpants! He drove up the expansive circular cobblestone driveway to the front door and John came out to greet us.

Gary leaned over and kissed me warmly on the lips, and suggested it might be easier that I get out and he just leave. He was more nervous than I'd ever seen him, and promised to come back early on Sunday to see how I was doing, then take me home. (From that moment on, I understood that I was never going to 'take myself' anywhere, I would always be 'taken'.)

How I loved him! I was embarking on what was truly a self-improvement program of some kind, yet he was worried about me so much.

John was very sensitive to my feelings on arrival as well, and took me gently by the arm into the mansion. He embraced me in a Dutch-uncle kind of way. 'You are very brave, Lisa, and very welcome. Let's go into the lounge and talk about your future.'

So off we went into this sumptuous room that seemed to adjoin an in-door racetrack. He sat me on his lap on the sofa. It was odd to be on the lap of an old friend of the family, I can tell you that for free! But it was to get much odder, that's for sure. He had a very kind tone as he lectured me on what was happening to me. I was so nervous and confused I can't remember his words verbatim but here goes.

'Lisa. I think you know that you are here to be trained to be a better wife to you loving husband. It wasn't easy for him to make the decision to send you to me, and you should be proud that he cares so much for you and for your lives together, You are a modest woman, yet you will have to endure what will seem relentless assaults on that modesty.'

Diary, I have to stop writing now. But I will continue as soon as I have a minute.

But I've got to go now. Luv, Me."