Life with Laura was passing quickly—and delightfully. Christmas was well behind us, but the memories of my ordeals in the hands of my vengeful sister and the sadistic Zoe remained in my mind, particularly being “forced” to satisfy Zoe using a dildo gag. It had been both humiliating and highly arousing at the time, but subsequently I had been wracked with guilt. I had never disclosed to Laura what I did, but the guilt had encouraged me to seek penance by worshipping and serving Laura with increased intensity. Our love for each other was growing by the week.
Life with Laura was not one that would suit most men, but I couldn’t think of anything better. Laura was fully in charge, and my duty was to obey her, doing whatever she required. But, for her part, she knew that I had limits, despite limits never being openly discussed between us. The bond between us was such that she knew how far she could push me and, to be honest, I found it exciting when she stretched me, making me experience things that I would have thought beyond me.
Obviously, as we were in a Female-Led Relationship, sex was one-sided. I had quickly accepted that Laura had an insatiable appetite for sex, particularly the oral kind, and I had become ever more skilled in delivering what she sought. But, as the submissive male in this relationship, sexual relief for me was a rarity, which made it extra special when it happened.
Only once had my penis entered her vagina. We had enjoyed passionate sex, and had managed to climax simultaneously, yet that event had never been repeated. Indeed, I sensed that Laura had felt regret afterwards—submissive men should not partake in penetrative sex because it undermined the FLR. Naturally, I did get occasional release, partly because Laura, being a biologist, understood that long-term denial could have health consequences. When it did come, relief was usually in the form of a hand job and there was no denying that Laura was very skilled at delivering one.
oooOOooo
It was as winter was drawing to a close, and spring was on the horizon, that a new girl intruded into my life, signalling another change. Her name was Amy and she had just joined the same History Masters course I was on. We had the same supervisor, and he put Amy to work on another aspect of my own project. There was overlap between our endeavours, which meant Amy and I were spending many hours together trying to uncover more evidence for events that occurred centuries earlier.
Amy was very pretty, and a few months younger than me. I found her attractive, but my heart was always with Laura and I never, for a single moment, considered leaving Laura. Amy’s beauty was a distraction, but one I could handle. So confident was I, that I openly discussed Amy with Laura, who was not the least perturbed and didn’t see Amy as a threat. She trusted me completely, which only intensified my feelings of guilt for what happened with Zoe.
oooOOooo
Sometimes Amy could be flirtatious, and I could tell she fancied me. She was also often amusing, but she was not without her faults, the prime one being her outspokenness. She never hesitated to say what was on her mind. Another fault, not unrelated to the first, was her inherent bossiness, or “assertiveness” as she might have described it. A third issue was her ability to tease me, which, in combination with the other two, formed a lethal mix.
We had only been working together for a couple of weeks when Amy combined all her flaws into a single conversation.
“Steve,” she asked, looking at me with a sense of bewilderment as we walked towards the library. “Why do you wear those ridiculous clothes? They don’t pay you any compliments.” It was a reference to my cropped and embroidered jeans, my pink ankle socks, and my ultrashort T-shirt that left a chilly bare midriff on a cool morning. “You do know you look stupid, don’t you?”
Talk about saying what you think! “I’m a student,” I replied, feebly. “We dress eccentrically.”
“I’m also a student, but I don’t go around dressed as an idiot in a ragbag of clothes that look like they came from a jumble sale at a women’s refuge.”
“Anything goes for students, don’t you think?”
“No, pet!” she responded. (She had taken to calling me “pet”, a north of England term of endearment!) “Not if it makes someone look like a clown. We’re at a university, not a circus. And do you know how embarrassing I find it, having to be near you, you looking like that? Why are you dressed like that? I know you’re not gay, because you’ve told me you live with a girl. So why these ludicrous clothes?”
I could have lied, but I had already tried that tactic by saying this was how students dressed. She hadn’t bought that, so I decided to tell her the truth—not that it made much sense.
“I share a flat with my girlfriend, Laura, but I’m not supposed to be there because her landlord doesn’t allow males to live in the flat. He’s okay with girls though. So, Laura had this idea that I should dress like this so that when the landlord does one of his spot inspections he won’t see clothes lying around that are obviously male.”
Amy looked at me incredulously. “I’ve heard some bullshit before, but nothing that bullshitty,” she concluded, shaking her head. “It’s nonsense! Either you’re being untruthful, or Laura is setting out to make you look stupid. If so, you could do a lot better than Laura—me for example!”
My eyes shot open at that last comment. “It’s the truth, Amy. It’s what Laura wants and Laura and I love each other. I’m not free and available, Amy—sorry!”
“No boyfriend of mine would ever have agreed to dress like that, pet,” she asserted. “But I do admire the power Laura must have over you. You’ll have to tell me more about how she controls your life, pet. There must be more to tell.”
“Er… no, not really,” I lied, aware I was going red.
“What does she do, pet?” she asked, in what struck me as an almost menacing tone.
“Er… nothing,” I replied.
“What? Nothing? She sits around all day, doing nothing?”
I had misunderstood her and not appreciated she had changed tact.
“Oh! I see what you mean. She’s a student, here, doing a degree in biology.”
“Here?”
“Yes, here!”
“Oh! Wow, that’s interesting! I’m dying to meet her.”
We had now reached the door of the library, giving me chance to change the subject. “We need to get on with our research.”
“Hmm… okay, but don’t think I’ve finished with you, pet,” she retorted, with a smirk, while patting my bottom. Was she allowed to do that?
oooOOooo
Over the next week, Amy made no attempt to restart her interrogation, and I began to hope she had let the matter drop. Maybe she would have done, but for a faux pas on my part.
As I’ve mentioned before, from early on in our relationship, Laura had expected me to carry around a tampon and a pantiliner, just in case she needed either. I had meekly gone along with this requirement, despite there being no justification for it. Indeed, as Laura invariably carried a bag, it was far easier for her to have these items than for me to stuff them into my pockets. However, it had become one of Laura’s rules, a way for her to exert her dominance and remind me of my submissive status.
Which brings me to my faux pas. That day, in my jeans’ pocket, I unknowingly had a pantiliner. As I wasn’t with Laura there was no requirement for me to carry one, but I must have forgotten to take it out.
The reader can guess what happened. As Amy and I searched the library shelves for some elusive tome, I reached into my pocket to extract a tissue and out fell the pantiliner.
Amy, who has eyes like a hawk, saw what had happened. “Why the frigging hell are you carrying that?” she asked in a loud whisper, trying not to disturb the quiet ambience of the reading room.
“Er…” I couldn’t think what to say.
“Blokes don’t carry pantiliners,” she insisted. “Not normal blokes, anyway! Why have you got it?”
By now, I had retrieved it and stuffed it back into my pocket, but she wasn’t going to let this go. This was not an instance of out of sight, out of mind.
“Come on! I want to know, pet. I want to know what sort of weirdo I’m working with… I’m waiting.”
“Er… I carry one for Laura, in case she needs one,” I blurted out, now crimson-faced.
“What?! Why the frigging hell can’t she carry her own sanitary supplies? Do you carry her tampons and pads as well?”
I somehow managed to both shake my head and nod it simultaneously.
“For crying out loud, Steve, why do you carry them?” Her voice was getting louder, causing other students to turn around to see what the commotion was. Any louder and we might have been asked to leave.
“I… I just do. Laura likes me to carry them for her, so I do.”
“For God’s sake, pet! You’re pathetic. A wimp! A henpecked boyfriend. What else does she make you do?”
“Er… nothing, Amy.”
“You’re lying! I know it. She’s got some hold over you, hasn’t she? You need to break free!” She glared hard at me, trying to make sense of my panicked expression.
“No… I’m happy with Laura,” I muttered. Amy shook her head in disbelief but let the matter drop—at least for now.
oooOOooo
A few days later, Amy and I were again making away across the campus to the library to continue our research. I was aware that she was a few steps behind me but thought little of it.
That morning, I was wearing, for the first time, a pair of pale grey leggings that Laura had bought me. I had told her at the time that they seemed too tight, but she had assured me that leggings were intended to be tight. It turned out that my assessment of them being a size too small was correct because Amy caught me up and chirped, cheerfully, “You know you have a VPL, don’t you, pet?”
I knew what the initials meant, but I played dumb. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Amy.”
“Yes, you do! Don’t pretend you don’t.”
“What?”
“If you’re going to wear panties beneath tight leggings, don’t wear a pair that have lace trim,” she remarked, in a very matter-of-fact way.
“What?”
“It’s plain for anyone to see, pet. I’m doing you a favour pointing it out. Is this Laura’s doing again?”
By now I had turned pillar box scarlet. “Er… yes… it’s, it’s this landlord thing again. We can’t have male underwear in the flat.”
“You could hide it? Surely this pervert of a landlord wouldn’t go searching through drawers and cupboards.”
“He might do,” I replied, my mind flashing back to the time when I had been caught rifling through my sister’s underwear drawer.
“Hmm… this smells fishy to me. Anyway, why not choose a plain pair of panties, with no lace… or what about a thong?”
“Er… I don’t know,” I replied, feeling flustered.
“Do you know what I’m wearing, under my leggings?”
I had noticed she, like me, was wearing tight leggings. Her pert bottom had attracted my attention—in all innocence, of course—but I had not noticed any sign of a VPL. Yet I was uncomfortable speculating what underwear she had on. “Er… no, I’ve no idea.”
“Try asking me, pet!” she demanded.
“No! That wouldn’t be right. I can’t do that.”
“Why not? Come on, ask me. It might prove educational and help you to avoid VPLs in future.”
“No, I can’t ask you such a personal question, Amy.”
“Would it embarrass you, pet? It shouldn’t! So come on, do as you’re told and ask me.” She smiled sweetly at me, to provide encouragement.
“Er… okay. So what underwear are you wearing, Amy?”
Her genial expression changed as if a switch had been thrown, causing me to instantly regret what I had said. “What?” she screeched. “What an impertinent question to ask, Steve! What would Laura say? I think she’d kick you out if she knew!” Her facial expression feigned astonishment. She had set a trap, and I had walked right into it.
“But… but you told me to ask, Amy.”
“Yes, but I didn’t think you would! I was just teasing you. I can’t believe you asked! Didn’t your mother tell you that’s a question you should never ask a girl? Never!”
“Not in so many words, no, but she wouldn’t approve me asking. I’m very sorry, Amy. But I thought you wanted me to ask.”
“Do you always do what women tell you to do, Steve?”
“Er… no,” I lied. “I’m really sorry, Amy.”
“So you should be, Steve. You need to learn to behave yourself!”
“You’re right, Amy,” I replied, hoping that word of my wrongdoing would not reach Laura.
The tension slipped from Amy’s face, but she had not finished. She looked at me, and smiled. “And another thing. Have you heard of camel toe?”
I had heard of camel toe, but what did she mean? “Don’t worry, you don’t have one, but what you do have isn’t exactly normal, is it?” She was grinning, but that provided no comfort.
This conversation was going from bad to worse. “What… what do you mean?”
“Those leggings are tight around the front as well as the back. You’ve got a manly bulge, except it’s not quite like any other man’s manly bulge. You should start wearing one of those pantiliners you carry around, to smooth out your manly bulge.”
Evidently, she had somehow detected the hard outline of my chastity device. I had looked in the mirror at home and thought my outline was okay, but eagle-eyed Amy had somehow detected its presence.
I had gone red, but Amy was enjoying my discomfort. “Are you going to say this is down to your landlord as well? Hmm? Do you think I don’t know what you’ve got on? You’re not being truthful with me, are you, pet?”
“Yes… yes, I am,” I replied, unconvincingly.
Amy didn’t reply, but I saw she was shaking her head and licking her lips. She had put the pieces together and had deduced that I was in a submissive relationship with Laura.
oooOOooo
Another week went by with nothing more said by Amy about my style of dress, my habit of carrying Laura’s sanitary goods in my jeans’ pocket, my choice of underwear, nor my restraint. I was becoming increasingly nervous in her presence, and as I spent most of my time at university with her, I was becoming paranoid. I felt she was biding her time before springing her next surprise, and so it turned out to be.
Suddenly one morning, out of the blue, Amy asked, “When are you going to introduce me to Laura?”
“Sorry? Why? Why… why do you want to meet her?”
“Because I’m curious! I want to see the girl who manages to persuade her boyfriend to dress effeminately and who expects him to carry a supply of pantiliners… amongst other things.”
“Er…”
“I’m not taking no for an answer, pet. I’m like a terrier. Once I’ve got a bone in my mouth, nothing makes me drop it.”
“Er… we usually meet up for lunch, Amy. In the refectory.”
“Cool! I’m joining you today, instead of sitting in our little office eating a sandwich!”
oooOOooo
I spent the rest of the morning fretting about lunchtime. Should I phone Laura to warn her? Or better, should I ask Laura if she would have lunch somewhere else today? But that would just be putting off the inevitable, so I resigned myself to my fate.
I had told Amy that Laura would be there at 1 PM but, on purpose or otherwise, Amy got delayed and we were fifteen minutes late arriving.
As I expected, Laura was already there and had not waited for me before buying her lunch. Poor punctuality—on my part, that is—is one of her bugbears and as she saw us approaching her table, her facial expression conveyed displeasure at me being late. She had not waited for me, but was sat at our usual table, munching a sandwich.
As we approached, Laura gave me a cold stare, but Amy broke the ice. “Hello,” she ventured, full of confidence, “I’m Amy and I know you’re Laura.”
Switching her eyes from me to Amy, Laura smiled sweetly and said, “Yes, I am, and Stevie’s told me a lot about you, Amy. Nice to meet you in person.”
“Likewise! Steve… sorry, Stevie, here’s a fiver, please get me a tuna mayo sandwich and a coke, while I get to know your girlfriend.”
I looked at Laura, hoping she might tell Amy to get her own lunch, but no, she replied, “Why not be a sweetie and get Amy her lunch, like she’s nicely asked? Unless it’s too much trouble, of course.”
This was as close to an instruction as it could possibly be, so I dutifully took the money and joined the queue. What the hell were they going to talk about in my absence?
It took ten minutes to pick up a couple of sandwiches and drinks. When I got back to the table, Laura and Amy were in deep conversation. It was as if they had known each other for years.
I put the items on the table and Amy turned to me. “Thank you, sweetie,” she mimicked. “Wasn’t there any change? Or were you expecting a tip?”
“Er… sorry, Amy,” I replied, digging some loose change out of my pocket, which I passed to her.
I then went to sit down, but Laura stopped me. “Sweetie,” she implored, “you don’t want to listen to our boring girl talk, so why don’t you go and sit on another table?”
It was phrased as a suggestion, yet I knew it was another order. If confirmation was needed, Laura added, “It’s best you sit over there, with your back to us.”
She pointed to an unpopular table for two in the corner of the refectory. Anyone who was “Billy no mates” sat there, ordinarily with their back to the wall, looking out across the restaurant, yet she was expecting me to sit looking at the wall. Was I being punished for being late?
“Er… okay,” I replied, trying to smile and make light of the situation. I didn’t address her as Miss as she didn’t expect that in public, but her dominance over me was clear. There was no way Amy would not have picked up on it, as demonstrated by the smirk on her face.
oooOOooo
Fearful about turning around to look, I sat at the small table for a long time after finishing my sandwich. Had Laura and Amy finished theirs? Were they still there?
Eventually, there was a tap on my shoulder. “Come on pet, we’ve got research to do.” It was Amy—Laura had left already, which did not bode well.
As we made our way back to the library, Amy was quiet but had an amused expression. Curiosity got the better of me and I enquired, “Did you have an interesting chat with Laura?”
“Yes,” she replied, monosyllabically.
“Did er… did anything particular come up?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, I see,” I replied, not that there was much I could see, yet it was concerning.
“Laura said she’ll be having words with you this evening,” Amy added, with a sly grin on her face. She patted my bottom, as she likes to do. I had yet to build up courage to tell her that she shouldn’t do that.
oooOooo
The drive back to the flat with Laura was spent in almost complete silence. I tried to seek information from her on her conversation with Amy, but she revealed nothing. I was starting to get worried. Only after we had entered the flat did Laura let rip.
“Amy told me that you had had the audacity to ask her what underwear she was wearing. I can’t believe you did that! Have you gone utterly insane? That’s something you should never, ever do!” She was furious.
“It… it wasn’t like that, Miss,” I tried to explain.
“Did you or did you not ask her about her underwear?”
“Well, yes I did, but—”
“That’s all I need to know. Excuses count for nothing. Strip down to your knickers, put a bra on and bring me my cane.”
“But, Miss—”
“Be quiet! Do as you’ve been told, unless you want me to double the number of strokes.”
oooOOooo
Fifteen minutes later I was standing facing the wall. My hands were flat on the top of my head and my panties were around my ankles. My bottom was marked by six parallel wheals, spaced evenly apart. They were throbbing and burning—Laura had shown me no mercy.
I stood there for ages, waiting for Laura to say something. Eventually, she did. “Turn around, Stevie, and let me have your apology. I don’t want to hear anything in mitigation—just your apology.”
“Er… I’m really very sorry for what I did, Miss. It was very wrong of me.”
“Have you done this before, with other girls at university?”
“No, Miss! Never! I only did it this time be—”
“I said no excuses, Stevie. Is that so difficult to grasp?”
“No, Miss, sorry. It won’t happen again, Miss.”
“No, it won’t, because I’ve asked Amy to keep an eye on you and to report back if you misbehave.”
“That’s… that’s not necessary, Miss.”
“Yes, it is! The decision is final, Stevie. Besides, she was very keen to lend a hand, so how could I refuse?”
“I understand, Miss,” I reluctantly conceded.
“She had deduced that you are in a submissive relationship with me. But she didn’t need to be Agatha Christie to do that, did she? You left her enough damn clues! Dropping pantiliners, wearing lacy panties beneath tight leggings, revealing the outline of your cage. You might as well have had the word ‘submissive’ tattooed on your forehead.”
“Er… yes, I made some mistakes, Miss!”
Laura laughed, unable to sustain her anger with me. “Yes, you did, sweetie. But no harm done, except to your bottom. Amy seemed very keen to learn about Female-Led Relationships. And I could tell she’s very attracted to you. It’s just as well I’ve got you securely locked up.”
“No, Miss! I would never be unfaithful to you,” I exclaimed, my mind again flitting back to the episode with Zoe.
“I’m joking, sweetheart. I know you’re in love with me, and I’m in love with you,” she said. “If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t go to all this trouble to improve your behaviour.” As she said that, she was bending her cane between her hands, causing me to gulp.
“Yes, I love you, Miss, I really do. You were right to punish me.”
“I know, so to show I’ve forgiven you, I’ll let you share my bed tonight. I won’t unlock you, but otherwise you are free to do whatever you wish to please me. OK, muffin?”
“Er… yes, Miss, thank you,” I replied, with relief. I knew from experience that caning me would have got her highly aroused and now she needed to me address her sexual frustration. I was in for a busy night but there would be no relief for me. And tomorrow I would have to face Amy again.
