Made to Obey Ch. 09

Mayıs 1, 2024 Yazar admin 0

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Reprise: I’d been caught wearing my Sister-in-law’s underwear and jerking off to shemale porn by wife (Ruth), Sister-in-law (Esther) and their mother (Donna). I’d been forced into a chastity cage and made to wear panties all the time. Humiliation was now a daily event. Esther, who had investigated my internet usage on my laptop to see if I’d visited shemale porn (or similar sites) before, had found no evidence of that. Yet she did want to know about “Bowser” and a curious email I’d sent to him some years back.

Sleep didn’t come easy that night, not only was I still trying to come to terms with my new, subordinate, relationship with my wife and her sister and mother, but also with Penny. The sex I’d had with Penny and Geri was, admittedly, a relief from the pent-up frustration of having to wear a chastity cage, but the thought of screwing those two would not be something I’d brag about to my friends if you know what I mean.

Furthermore, even though Esther had confirmed I’d no previous history of getting turned on by crossdressing or the whole shemale thing, the relief at that was countered by her probing into my message to Bowser.

On the Sunday morning, I got up early and washed and just put a dressing gown over my purple nightie and panties and put on the pink shoes as Ruth had instructed. My hair had lost some of its shape from the previous day but still had a feminine look about it, and my finger and toe nails were still painted pink. I’d wiped off the lipstick the night before.

Whilst making the breakfasts, I pondered over the Bowser email that Esther had uncovered, an email I’d sent to Bowser some years ago under my Gmail account and had foolishly forgot to delete. All further email contact I’d had with Bowser was done via an email address with another provider other than Gmail. I’d used it solely for my business with Bowser and had deleted all the messages I’d received from him. Esther had assumed I’d only used the 3 Gmail accounts and I couldn’t see how she’d be able to find out about the one I’d used for Bowser, especially as those were sent via an older laptop which had now been replaced by this one, on which I’d never used that email service. The more I thought about it, the more confident I became that my Bowser association would remain a secret.

It certainly helped that, at breakfast, neither of the women mentioned the Bowser message again and, apart from Esther reminding Ruth to fetch my old bank account statements from that period for her to give to their mother to look at, (I didn’t use online banking in those days), it didn’t seem to occupy their thoughts or conversation.

Ruth had come down for breakfast in t-shirt and knickers whilst Esther — perhaps just to embarrass me — wore a brown kimono with white trim, but no bra, frequently flashing her fulsome breasts as she leant across the breakfast table to reach for various things. I tried not to look but sometimes, it was just impossible to avoid. Ruth and Esther both seemed happy for this situation to prevail.

As Esther finished her coffee after her meal, Ruth told me to come upstairs with her as she wanted me to try on some new clothes that she’d bought me.

I’d planned to wear a nice pair of black silk panties that had small white and red flowers on and a small white bow at the front. Ruth was happy for me to put these on but, instead of the slacks I’d worn the day before, she handed me a dress — yes, a dress!

“You’ll only have to wear it indoors, and only in front of me or those who already know you like crossdressing,” she informed me.

It was a sleeveless, white, pink and grey striped summer dress from a major retailer. Ruth had guessed my size correctly, and it fitted well, the hem being just above my knees. She then made me put on some tan stockings she’d bought which I fastened to a white, lacy suspender belt that must also have been purchased on her shopping expedition whilst I was at Penny and Auntie Geraldine’s place.

Dressed as ordered I allowed Ruth to brush my hair so that it took on the more feminine look that had been crumpled out by my ruffling it in bed overnight.

“There,” Ruth said, admiring me as I stood up and turned around for her to inspect me. “You look quite a smart lady now. Let’s get you downstairs so that Esther can admire you before she goes.”

It was too late to protest I guessed, so meekly complied and allowed Esther to look me up and down. She too approved of my appearance.

“Just needs a bit of lipstick and eye-make up and maybe some earrings and she’d be quite feminine,” was Esther’s assessment.

Ruth told me to lift up the hem of my dress so that her sister could see what pretty panties I had on and, although I huffed at this, I thought it best to go along with things and get it out of the way, rather than cause a fuss or an argument which, if recent events were anything to go by, I’d lose anyway.

Once Esther had left — just before midday -Ruth reminded me I had lots of chores Bostancı Sınırsız Escort to do, including washing Penny and Geri’s panties, plus her own and mine too. It was a good drying day, so I was able to get through these laundry chores without delay. In fact, when I was in the back garden, pegging out the washing, the gentle sensation of the slight breeze blowing up my dress and around my thighs and pantie-clad bottom was rather pleasant. So too was the gentle pull on the stockings as I stretched to reach up to the washing line. As long as this aspect of my life was kept a secret, I decided, it was endurable; embarrassing yes, but endurable.

Washing, ironing, dusting and changing the sheets on the beds kept me busy for most of the afternoon and I made us both cups of tea from time to time. Ruth prepared supper and, for the most part, I never gave serious thought to the Bowser issue.

After we’d eaten supper and I’d done the washing up, I settled down in the living room to read a book whilst Ruth was on her laptop; I was still in my dress and stockings.

“Hey, Carla, come and have a look at this.”

I went over to her side and looked to see what had caused her to call for me. It was footage of me posing in the white panties with the black trim for Penny. I’d been made to say things like “Doesn’t Carla look sweet in her knickers?” whilst posing and, watching this now caused me to blush as red as it’s possible to.

“Penny’s finished editing all the film she took yesterday; do you want to watch?” Ruth asked.

I shook my head and was about to walk away but Ruth, eyes fixed on her screen (which now showed me with my face buried in Auntie Geraldine’s buttocks), reached out and grabbed my wrist and yanked me down beside her. After a couple of minutes more watching the film, to my surprise, she put her hand up my skirt and started to tug my panties down.

“I think it’s time for me to have a taste of this,” she smiled and quickly sought out her handbag which was nearby and deftly extracted the key to my chastity cage. She smirked at the look on my face.

“Don’t worry, I don’t usually keep it in there, so don’t bother rooting for it. Got enough of the man left in you to take me on now?”

I nodded enthusiastically.

“I’m giving you an early treat as Esther didn’t find anything untoward. Aren’t I just too kind to you?”

“Yes love, I can’t wait. Thank you so much — it seems like an age since we last…”

I didn’t finish the sentence. Ruth handed me the key and I hastily fumbled under my black floral panties to unlock and remove my chastity device. Ruth meanwhile had stood up and stepped out of her dress and stood astride me. She was wearing a skimpy cornflower-blue pair of sexy briefs with a lace trim and matching bra. I could see signs that watching me have sex with Geri had aroused her. The film was still showing on the laptop and, as she stepped out of her panties, I felt as though I was dreaming; that I’d arrived in paradise. She lowered her pussy to my face as I slid my bottom on to the carpet, the back of my head resting on the edge of the settee. My hands reached out to caress her breasts. Not bothering to unclasp her bra, I pulled the cups down and soon found her erect nipples. The sensation I felt rubbing and tweaking those two responsive peaks together with the feel and scent of her pussy was indescribable. My tongue (still a little swollen from yesterday’s exertions) was going to give her clit the treat of its life; I’d show her what it was like to have sex with a man. When it came down to it, I thought, I was still the man and Ruth wanted my touch, my feel, my dick. Now uncaged, my penis stood erect and proud — ready for action. My manhood was what she wanted and boy, was she going to get it.

After a good while of me tonguing her clit and rubbing my face into her trim, hairy bush, she lowered her bum down towards my dick. I now had a greater chance to feel her wonderful breasts; she was moaning in delight as I let my fingers roll around them. Out of the corner of my eye I could see footage on the laptop of Penny riding me; of her small but tempting breasts — breasts that she’d stopped me from fondling; well, that was her loss. It was she who had missed out on having me, a proper man, pleasure her. Ruth was going to benefit from Penny’s loss.

Ruth pushed my head down onto the floor and pulled my dress up to my armpits. I reached down and managed to tug my panties off and then lay back and allowed her to slip her eager, moist fanny over my dick.

I could hear the sound of Penny riding me in the background and now a similar noise was coming from my wife as she gradually increased the pace of her rise and descent.

“Call me ma’am Carla.; to rhyme with farm. Tell ma’am you want her to fuck you!” she implored.

“Fuck me ma’am. Please ma’am, fuck Carla,” I found myself saying.

She increased her pace. Her tits now hovered just above my face and I Bostancı Suriyeli Escort strained my head to take in a juicy nipple and suck it to her delight.

I stretched my legs wider, luxuriating in the feel of my stockings being yanked by the straps on my suspender belt. I wanted this whole sensation to never end; the scent of her aroused womanhood, the feel of her nipples, the tautness of my stockings and suspender-belt straps plus, in the background, the sound of Penny’s love juices swooshing over my dick. But all good things must come to an end, and I came in hot, thankful gushes. Ruth, who’d climaxed too, looked down at me and smiled.

“Did Carla enjoy being fucked by ma’am?”

“Yes. Yes ma’am. It was lovely.”

“That’s good. Ma’am wants you to wash and change into your nightie and night-time panties now and come back down here.”

“Yes ma’am,” I agreed. I happily did as I was told and, on returning downstairs, hoping that we could do it again, found myself back locked in my chastity cage.

“Now just wait for your birthday and we can do that again. That’ll be nice won’t it?”

“Yes, that’ll be great love. I can’t wait.”

“No Carla,” Ruth pulled me up brusquely. “That’ll be great ma’am, remember?”

“Sorry. That’ll be great — ma’am,” I corrected myself.

Ruth then went upstairs and changed into her night-attire, thankfully turning off the laptop and saving me any more embarrassment. When she re-appeared, she had a bottle of nail varnish remover and cotton-wool balls with her. She told me to remove my nail varnish and to take the remover and unused cotton-wool balls up to my room as I’d probably need them again sometime. I eventually managed to remove all the pink varnish from my fingers and toe nails. I had been wondering whether I’d be forced to leave them painted when I went to work the next day, so was glad that that was no longer a concern.

All in all, it hadn’t been too bad a day. Apart from a surprise glorious shag with my Ruth, I’d got quite a bit of my household chores done and had washed and dried Penny and Auntie Geraldine’s panties in time for my returning them to Penny in the morning. Esther had not been able to find any trace of my having visited any shemale or transsexual internet sites and I’d reconciled myself to enjoying wearing dresses when in the privacy of my home. Furthermore, although now back in my chastity cage, I had the definite promise of further sex to come with Ruth come my birthday. I’d forgotten all about the Bowser issue — that was until Ruth told me I had to go to bed.

“Off you go Carla. I’m glad you enjoyed ma’am letting you have sex. And don’t worry, I’m sure Esther will verify all that Bowser stuff is of no importance. Night-night.”

“Night-night ma’am.”

The next day I drove us both to the office. I was keen to get in early as I wanted to hand the freshly washed panties over to Penny before Marsha came in. (I was wearing a plain dark-blue cotton pair if you must know, with a little lacy edging of the same colour.) Ruth probably guessed my reason for seeming to be in a hurry but never said anything. On our way there, on looking into the car’s rear-view mirror I became a little uneasy at the look of my hairstyle. There was no way I could have brushed it back into its pre-Geraldine look and I decided that, at the first opportunity, I would go to a men’s hairdressers and have it cut, very short. I’d just get it done, without asking Ruth’s permission; it was my hair after all and I shouldn’t be needing my wife’s approval. I was the man in this relationship when all said and done.

I told Ruth I was nipping into town later that morning to see the Auction House team with regards to a property I was selling (this was true actually) and had a couple of things to sort out with the bank. She accepted this without question. She and Penny were preparing to take a display down to some marketing event in Birmingham and would be out of the office most of the day too. Ruth told me she’d have to take the car and that I’d need to get a bus home that evening and not to bother making her anything to eat as she and Penny would eat out. She didn’t expect to get home much before 10p.m.

Penny arrived at the office before Marsha so, after giving her a minute or two to take her coat off, I wondered into her office and handed her the bag with her and Geri’s panties in.

“Thanks Carla. Oh, and don’t worry, I won’t call you that when Marsha’s around; your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that,” I acknowledged and turned to return to my office but was called back by her.

“Thanks. I appreciate that! Haven’t you forgotten something?”

“Thanks. I appreciate that — Miss Penny.”

“That’s better. Don’t forget. Now, leave please. I’ve got a busy day ahead.”

I happily took leave of her.

I heard Marsha arrive and give her greetings to Ruth and Penny from behind the closed door of my office. Whilst on Bostancı İranlı Escort my own there, I pondered whether I should try and see Bowser, maybe to warn him. Was there any need to warn him though? It might only spread concern where none was merited, after all, it wasn’t as though Esther had a clue about what we’d done all those years ago, and I was confident it would remain a secret. Even so, I felt he had a right to know and besides, Bowser was the sort of chap who’d bolster my confidence and reassure me that we had covered our tracks too well for anything to be unearthed. Reassurance was something I wanted.

When it was time to head for the town centre, I left my office and made polite conversation with Marsha, duly asking if she’d had a nice holiday but not really taking too much interest in her reply. Ruth’s door was shut, so I asked Marsha just to tell her that I was heading into town if she wondered where I’d got to.

I’d given Ruth the car keys when we’d arrived that morning and she’d said she hoped I had a successful day.

“Thanks, you too,” I’d replied.

“No Carla. Haven’t you remembered? You too ma’am,” she corrected me.

“You too ma’am,” I mumbled, even though there was no one around to hear. Being made to speak like this to her, to address her in this servile way had made me even more determined to get my hair cut that day: that would show her!

Just over an hour later, I emerged from a gent’s hairdresser suitably shorn, only a fine shadow of stubble separating me from total baldness. It was comforting running my hand over the bristles and knowing that nothing Ruth or anyone did could fashion this hairstyle into anything feminine; this was a man’s haircut. Feeling better, I wound my way through the town streets to the offices of Carluke, Chisnall and Reed, a long-established firm of solicitors where Bowser was a partner. I took a chance on his being able to see me straight away.

“Mr. Hutchinson has a client with him at the moment. Can you come back at 11:30 sir?” the receptionist asked me. I confirmed I could and went back in to town to sort out things with the bank etc.

Henry Rupert Hutchinson was a solicitor who specialised in Probate (Wills, Power-of-Attorney, that sort of thing). Some 15 years or so older than me, I first got to know him through our mutual membership of the local sports club at the time I was going through my divorce with Amanda. Henry was a mad keen cricketer and had put up a notice at the club asking for volunteers for the club’s cricket team which played in a Sunday league and of which he was captain. I was quite a decent batsman at High School so signed-up.

Henry had been educated at a typically English private boarding school and, like so many who go down that route, had an air of self-confidence and charm together with an almost assumed air of self-entitlement. That he wasn’t then, at that time, a partner in Carluke, Chisnall and Reed was a matter of some annoyance to him but, apart from that, he was an affable, wholly likeable fellow. We soon hit it off in the cricket team and he, as an older, wiser friend, sort of took me under his wing when I moaned to him about how my divorce was going. Henry was married, to Kay, and they had two children. Henry wasn’t that well-off, his parents having spent most of their wealth paying for him and his two brothers to go to private schools, but Kay and her side of the family had a bit and were quite well-connected.

Early on in his schooldays, he was asked to write an essay on what he would like to be when he grew up. Henry’s love of cricket led to him writing that he wanted to be a bowler (the equivalent of a pitcher in baseball I reckon), however, the young Henry’s writing of a lower-case “l” looked more like a lower-case “s”, and his teacher mocked him for wanting to be a “bowser”. That’s how he got his nickname, although he only ever told that story to his cricketing chums and allowed no-one else to use it, thinking it quite inappropriate that someone in his position dealing with wills etc. should be referred to in such a manner.

The time for our meeting came and I sat in the grand old reception room of Carluke, Chisnall and Reed wondering how I was going to tell Bowser my news. I couldn’t tell him my finances were being looked into following my sister-in-law’s investigation into my crossdressing, so I settled on telling him it was because of my latest business venture with the Giffords. I’d not seen Bowser for some months but he knew of the development Big Max was planning. (Since being made a partner, his family had moved house to the posher part of east Cheshire where Max and Donna lived and Kay was on nodding terms with Donna, sharing many acquaintances.)

His secretary, Joyce, came for me and led me to his office. It was large, well-furnished room with stacks of books and filing cabinets spread along its walls. A framed photo of him, Kay and their children stood on his desk. Bowser stood up to shake my hand, his large, imposing frame now showing the first signs of hair loss on his otherwise thick head of dark brown hair.

“Carl old fellow. So nice to see you. Please, take a seat.”

He then addressed Joyce.

“I say Joyce old-girl, can you rustle up a tea for Mr. Henley or that’s now Henley-Gifford isn’t it?”

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