Sunday with Laura, and our guest Amy, had been a mixture of excruciating embarrassment and painful arousal. Being made to worship Amy’s toes and then being rewarded with a flash of her damp panties, had been a new and completely unexpected experience. Made even more so by me being attired in a sundress, with full make-up, blonde wig, and painted fingernails and toenails. Waking up early on Monday morning I was once more suffering the effects of a nocturnal erection as my unconscious mind replayed the events of the day before.
I was not looking forward to seeing Amy. She was very likely to tease and make fun of me—not just today, but possibly for weeks to come. Yet I also knew that Amy was now someone I was expected to obey. She had somehow manoeuvred herself into becoming the deputy leader of my FLR. It seemed inevitable that Amy was going to take more control of my life when I was away from Laura.
On entering our little university office, I saw Amy was already sitting in her usual place. No surprise there! She’s always the first.
“Morning, pet,” she announced.
“Morning, Miss Amy,” I replied. “Would you like to know what colour knickers I’m wearing?”
“In a minute, pet,” she declared. “Show me your hands, first.”
I held my hands out for her to see, palm up. “No, stupid,” she exclaimed, “it’s your nails I want to look at.”
Feeling embarrassed, I turned my hands over to reveal that I was still wearing the glittery scarlet nail varnish from the previous day.
“Oooh! That’s so sweet,” she mocked.
“Er… unfortunately, there wasn’t time to remove it after you left yesterday, Miss.”
“Why’s that, pet?”
The reason was because Laura had decided an early night—a very early night—was needed. However, I had no intention of taking Amy down that avenue. “Er… I have to show that there is nothing shameful about looking feminine, Miss.”
It was a lie, but it satisfied Amy, and she beamed me a big smile.
“Anyway,” I added, “a lot of men wear nail varnish nowadays, Miss.”
“Yes, of course they do, pet,” she scoffed. “But not usually glittery, eh? Enough of this girl talk, show me what colour panties you’re wearing.”
It was at that moment that it dawned on me that I was wearing leggings that had no fly. To reveal the colour, I would have to lower them.
Amy could see the problem. “Go and stand over there, pet, and pull them down.” She pointed to the corner, which is the one place in the office invisible to anyone peering through the glass panel in the door. “Stand facing the corner so I can see your bum.”
Going red, I did what she instructed and lowered my leggings partway, revealing white satin panties in a bikini style. “Very nice, pet!” she giggled. “You’ve such a cute bum. I can see why Miss Laura’s attracted to it.”
I went to pull the leggings back up, but she got them first and, before I knew what had happened, she pulled them down to my ankles. “You stay facing the wall for a little while, pet,” she instructed. “This is not punishment. It’s just a taster of what will happen if you’re disobedient.”
What the hell should I do? Should I disobey her, pull up the leggings and turn around? Or should I do as she instructed? This was a watershed moment. She had been threatening me with this corner for weeks, and now I was standing in it.
“You’re hesitating, aren’t you, pet?” she quietly remarked, stating the obvious.
I didn’t answer. “I don’t like you hesitating and neither would Miss Laura like it, pet. It’s disobedience!”
I was still in two minds as to what to do, but the way she was talking to me was causing me to become aroused—painfully so. “But what… what if James comes in, Miss?”
“Then you’ll have to pull your leggings up smartish, won’t you, and make out you’re examining the wall.”
“No… please,” I muttered, but she detected the uncertainty in my voice.
“At the moment, I’m setting a timer for ten minutes. If you don’t make your mind up soon, it’ll be fifteen minutes, pet.”
“Er…”
“The sooner you start, the better the chance of you finishing before James arrives. And if he comes in before you’ve finished, then you’ll have to start again when he’s gone. This seems a no-brainer to me, pet. Start now and get it over with in ten minutes. Bury your nose in that corner. Hands behind your back, pet.”
She had won. She had defeated me! My brain was still in turmoil, but my penis had taken a decision. I stepped closer to the corner so that my nose was pressed into the wall. I clasped my hands behind my back, over my panties.
“Goood boy, pet,” Amy declared, condescendingly. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it? Your time starts now.”
I stood there, quietly. My penis was throbbing inside its cage, but perspiration was building on my brow at the thought that James might knock and enter. The ten minutes seemed like half an hour—time was standing still.
Eventually, I heard the alarm on her phone go. “Well done, pet! That wasn’t so difficult, was it. Now pull your leggings back up. Tomorrow, I don’t expect you to make any fuss. Understood, pet?”
“To… tomorrow as well? I… I thought you said this was a taster, Miss?” I said, as I got redressed.
“And, yes it was, but you messed me around by procrastinating, so tomorrow will be a punishment. Fifteen minutes of corner time. Okay?”
“Er… yes, Miss,” I answered, with an air of resignation. “But—” At that moment, James knocked on the door and walked in. I realised what a narrow escape I’d had. I would never have been able to pull my leggings back up in what was no more than a second or two between him knocking and entering.
If I had to do fifteen minutes tomorrow, I could see that I could not afford to waste time arguing. Moreover, I knew that once I had given ground, as I had today, it would be impossible to resist her instructions on future days. I was having some regrets, but it was too late.
oooOOooo
That evening, I explained to Laura what had happened. As I expected, she was highly amused. “I hope that narrow escape has taught you not to argue with Amy, muffin.”
There was no condemnation from her about what Amy had done. Not even a comment that she might have “words” with Amy. No, it was clear that Amy’s actions had Laura’s full support. Corner time in the office was likely to become a regular occurrence.
“I won’t argue with her, Miss,” I assured Laura. “Is it okay if we leave earlier tomorrow morning? If I’ve got to do fifteen minutes I need to begin sooner.”
“Yes, muffin. We can start out earlier, if that’s what you want. And maybe wear jeans tomorrow, eh?” She smiled, as she offered me fashion advice. “And if you’re a good boy tomorrow, I’ll remove your nail polish in the evening, poppet.”
oooOOooo
The next day, I complied with Amy’s rules without any dissent, and I completed my fifteen minutes of corner time before James paid us his morning visit. I wore jeans, as Laura had suggested, and luckily Amy was content with me standing with my back to the door and pulling down the zip to reveal the colour of my panties.
I was praying that corner time was not going to become a daily imposition, but Amy assured me that it would only be used if I failed to meet her expectations. I took some solace in that, yet I was assuming that it was only a matter of time before she imposed more rules, increasing the risk of me falling foul of her demands.
oooOOooo
When I arrived at the office on Thursday, she was standing up, rather than sitting, and the reason was obvious. Instead of her trademark university outfit of blue jeans, she was wearing an ultrashort miniskirt and had bare legs. I knew she was up to something.
We exchanged the usual pleasantries, and I unzipped my fly to show her the colour of my knickers. And then, just as I was going to ask permission to sit down, she made a “request”. I express that in quote marks, because requests from Amy were essentially demands, much as they were from Laura. “I would love a foot massage, pet,” she began.
“Sorry?”
“You know! Like you did on Sunday, pet.”
“What? Here? I couldn’t do it here, Miss.”
“Yes, you could. You could get under the desk.”
As I’ve mentioned several times before, Amy and I share a desk. It’s a large desk—disproportionately large for our tiny office. It’s old and it’s heavy, and it consists of two pedestals containing drawers which are positioned about two feet apart. Resting across the pedestals is a sturdy platform that is the work surface. Amy sits one side of the desk, and I the other, both with our legs pushed into the gap between the pedestals but too far apart to touch knees.
“What? Under there?”
“Yes! No one peeping through the glass in the door will know what you’re doing, pet. And if someone comes in, just say you’re looking for something you dropped.”
“Er… I don’t know what Miss Laura would say, Miss.”
“Look, stupid, she said you could worship my feet any time, any place. Didn’t you hear her say that?”
“Yes… but I don’t know if she meant here, Miss.”
“Look, pet! I’m not asking you. I’m telling you, so get under the desk. Now!” She raised her voice and was glaring at me, adding, “Unless you’d rather stand in the corner for half an hour.” She sat herself down. “Come on! On your knees,” she hissed.
Seeing how she was dressed, and with the prospect that she might once again give me a flash of her panties, I decided I had put up enough resistance to convince Laura (should I need to!) that I had not given in easily.
I was already starting to feel aroused as I dropped to my knees and crawled under the desk. Looking up, I saw that her legs were crossed and pressed tightly together. I was going to need to work hard for that short glimpse of her undies.
She had already kicked off her shoes, so one foot was perfectly placed for the toe sucking she wanted. Becoming increasingly aroused, I set to work, tackling each toe in turn, sucking and licking and nibbling, just as she had enjoyed on Sunday.
As I busied myself, I could hear her typing! She’d opened her laptop and was working, tapping away. How well she was concentrating was a different matter, because I could also hear the occasional moan from her, but at least if someone were to look through the door it would seem as if she was busy and not simply soaking up the pleasure I was providing.
I kept going at my task on the first foot and it was only after ten minutes or so that she skillfully recrossed her legs, revealing nothing, and gave me the other foot. I was becoming more excited at being this close to her. The thought of James bursting in was still at the back of my mind, but I was now so aroused that I didn’t want to stop.
She was enjoying the attention. She was probably typing gibberish, because she was beginning to squirm in her seat, and the moans were increasing. Then the clicking of the keyboard halved in intensity and, whilst I couldn’t see, I strongly suspected that one of her hands was now thrust down her skirt.
I continued my task, in the hope that at the end she would flash her panties at me, like she had done the last time. Just thinking of that possibility caused my penis to attempt further engorgement.
Then, with no warning, there was a tap on the door and in walked James. Instantly, I stopped what I was doing and sprung up, banging my head on the underside of the desk with an almighty crash.
I staggered out backwards on my knees, nursing my head. “What the blazes are you doing, Steve?” asked James, incredulously.
“Sorry, James… I was looking for something.”
“What?”
“Er… my… er… my pen, James.”
“Might this be it?” he asked sarcastically, picking a pen up from the desktop.
“Oh! Er… yes. Er… right, okay, thanks.”
By now, Amy had stood up and James looked at her, before moving his eyes back to me.
“My goodness, Steve! Before you went crawling under the desk, did you stop to think about Amy’s modesty?”
“Er…”
“For crying out loud, Steve. You can’t go crawling under desks in front of young ladies dressed… dressed… well, you know… like that.” I could see he was getting embarrassed.
“Oh, my God!” screeched Amy, putting on one of her dramatic performances. “He… he… he could have seen…. you know… something he shouldn’t have. Steve, what the blazes were you thinking? I’m appalled!”
By now I had gone red. James tried to come to my rescue. “Steve didn’t think, Amy. I don’t think he meant any harm.”
“I… I’m flabbergasted,” she added. “It’s… it’s a good job I had my legs crossed, James.” Turning to me, she continued, “Don’t you ever pull that trick again, Steve. Understood?”
“Sorry, Miss. I… I mean, sorry, Amy.” I was now flustered.
A smile crossed James’s face. He had picked up on my verbal faux pas but had failed to understand its significance. “It sounds to me that he’s extremely sorry, Amy, if he’s calling you ‘Miss’. We don’t need to take this any further, do we?”
Panic was starting to set in as Amy hesitated. “Er… hmm… okay, no, James, as long as he doesn’t do that again. My mother warned me about men like him.” She glared harshly at me.
“I… I won’t, I promise,” I replied, feeling chastened. “I wasn’t thinking… sorry, Amy.”
“Good!” concluded James. “So, let’s talk about where you are with your research.”
oooOOooo
When James left us, I turned to Amy and asked, “Why did you put that act on, Miss? You could have got me into loads of trouble.”
“Are you brain dead, pet? I could hardly say that I told you to get under there. It was easier to act surprised. And there’s no harm done.”
She was right, of course, but she had more to say. “Next time, we’ll lock ourselves in the disabled cubicle in the toilet. We won’t be disturbed there.”
So, there would be other times! Yet today I had provided her with a long foot worshipping session but received nothing in return—no glimpse of her panties. My face must have revealed disappointment, and she read what I meant. “Sorry, pet, you didn’t get a glimpse of my undies, did you?”
I felt myself going red, as she continued. “You’re obsessed with knowing what panties I wear, aren’t you?”
“No!” I screeched. “No, I’m not. You… you keep trying to trick me into asking, Amy… sorry, Miss.” I was becoming agitated, and she could tell.
“Well, pet, even if you had completed the foot massage, I still wasn’t going to show you,” she explained, with a coy smile.
I was shocked and stood there open-mouthed. She had dressed provocatively simply to trick me into worshipping her feet.
“Just so you know, I’m never, ever going to show you what I have on, pet, no matter how many foot massages you give me. It was wrong of me to do so on Sunday, pet. I’m really sorry I did. I’m sorry I let you see my damp panties.” The emphasis she placed on those last two words was causing my penis to twitch and pulsate.
Should I admit I was encouraged to worship her feet in the hope of her flashing? Or was that playing into her hands? My brain was scrambled, and I found myself uttering, “I… I didn’t want to see, Miss.”
She smiled sweetly at me, while slowly shaking her head. “You’re lying, pet, and don’t waste your breath denying it. Unless you want me to punish you for lying. Hmm?”
I said nothing, but I was still in a state of high arousal and this was reflected in my face. “Your expression tells me all I need to know,” she said, with smug satisfaction. “I’ll tell you what, pet. I might let you handwash my bras and knickers on occasions. Hmm? Miss Laura tells me that you’re very good at that. Is that right, pet?”
Was there anything that Laura had not told Amy?
“Hmm?” she added. “Say something, pet.”
“Er… yes, Miss, I do handwash Miss Laura’s undies.”
“Do you like doing that? Their delicateness. Their soft feel. Their evocative scents. Hmm?”
“I… I do it because Miss Laura wants me to!”
“Yeah! Of course you do, pet. But Miss Laura tells me that you… er… get pleasure from doing it. I’m right, aren’t I?”
I couldn’t answer in words, but my face had gone crimson, telling her all she needed to know.
She grinned. “And if you washed mine, you’d at least know what items I have to choose from, even if you don’t know what I’m wearing on a particular day. I think you’d enjoy that, pet.”
I still didn’t answer—there was nothing I could say that would not land me in deeper water. Instead, I looked at her as she fingered an exposed black bra strap.
She noticed where I was looking. “Sorry to disappoint you, pet, but I don’t usually coordinate bra and knickers—but sometimes I do, so you can never be sure. Don’t read anything into the colour of this strap. Understood?” This was something I had noticed on Sunday, when she was wearing a white bra with turquoise panties.
I nodded again. My throat had gone dry, and my penis was twitching madly in its tiny home. When it came to teasing, Amy was in a league of her own.
“So, would you like to handwash my undies, pet? It’s hard for me to find the time to do it, but you could just add my stuff to the pile you do. Eh?”
I was still struggling to keep up with developments. “No! That wouldn’t be right, Miss! I’m shocked you’re suggesting I do that.”
“Shocked but aroused, I reckon,” she remarked, with a smirk. “What harm is there? I hate doing that job and you clearly relish it. We both win!”
“I… I would have to check that Miss Laura wanted me to do that, Miss.”
“I think you’re keen to persuade her, aren’t you? Make sure to ask her this evening. I think someone is getting excited just thinking about handling my lingerie. Eh, pet?”
“Please, Miss, please stop talking like this. It’s not right.”
“When did you last get relief, pet?” she asked. “Tell me! Or do I need to ask Miss Laura? I’m sure she would tell me.”
It was a highly personal question, yet I felt obliged to answer. “Hmm… about two and half weeks ago, Miss,” I replied, feeling myself go red, yet again.
“That’s a long time, pet! You must get so frustrated,” she concluded. I had lost the power of speech, so I simply nodded. “Does it get bigger, the longer you have to wait between sessions?”
What was she talking about? She saw my puzzled look. “Your erection, pet. When you’re uncaged, does it get longer and wider as your sexual frustration grows?”
“Oh! I… I see what… what you’re saying,” I muttered, feeling both embarrassed and humiliated at this line of questioning.
“Well?” she asked.
“Er… I don’t know, I don’t—”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? You must have gained an impression. Tell me, pet,” she pestered.
“I don’t know, Miss, because I’m usually blindfolded. So, I don’t see my erection.”
“Blimey!” Amy laughed. For a second, she was knocked off stride. “Why… why does she do that?”
“I… I don’t know, Miss.”
“Well ask her and tell me tomorrow. Otherwise, I’ll ask, and, if I ask, I won’t tell you. So, if you want to know, you need to ask her this evening.”
oooOOooo
That evening, after dinner, Laura and I retired to the lounge, where she sat on the sofa and me on the floor, leaning back against the sofa. There were things I needed to ask Laura.
“I’m embarrassed to say this, Miss, but Miss Amy has asked me to.”
“Uhh?”
“I… I don’t know what you would think, Miss.”
She stopped stroking my hair. “For crying out loud, I’m not going to think anything unless you tell me what Amy wants!”
“Er… she’s wondering if you would allow me to handwash her bras and knickers, Miss.”
“What?! Wash her underwear? Why?”
“She doesn’t like doing handwashing and she thinks I do.”
“Well, I think she’s right about that, muffin. You do seem to enjoy handling my underwear. Be honest about it!”
“Yes… but it wouldn’t be right for me to wash another woman’s undies.”
“You told me you had to wash Zoe’s, and your sister’s.”
“I was forced to!”
“Yes, but I don’t recall you putting up much resistance.”
“It was different, Miss.”
“Would you find it humiliating washing Amy’s stuff?”
“Yes, yes, I would, that’s the—”
“In that case, tell her you’ll do it on a weekly basis. It’s a treat for you as I know you get turned on by being humiliated. Bras and panties only, tell her. And, sweetie, you’re not to sniff them. Is that understood? Because if I catch you sniffing her stuff you will be in very serious bother.”
My penis was throbbing inside its tube. I couldn’t believe what Laura had said. With her permission, I would get to handle Amy’s undies, yet Laura showed no signs of jealousy.
It took me a few minutes to recover from the shock. “May I ask you something else, Miss?” I enquired. Laura nodded. “It’s… it’s something Amy… Miss Amy wants to know. I don’t think it’s any of her business, but she’s asked me to ask you.”
“For goodness’s sake, muffin, spit out whatever you want to ask.”
“Thank you. Er… Miss Amy wants to know why you usually blindfold me when you give me a hand job.”
She smiled at me. “Why do you need to see your willy?”
“I… I don’t know. I’m just interested, I suppose.”
She snorted and shook her head in despair. “Interested? Listen to me carefully, muffin. Before I locked you up in that cage you told me that you were wanking nearly every day, and I bet that was an understatement. Each time you masturbated you would have seen your stiffy. Did seeing it help restrict your sordid habits? No, it didn’t! You’re now locked in that cage because of that past behaviour. Allowing you to see your erection would only make you more frustrated than you get already, and for what purpose? None! Just more and more frustration. So, denying you sight of your willy is me being kind to you, muffin. I’m trying to make your life easier. Okay?”
I nodded because I thought I could understand what she meant.
“But if you don’t want to be locked up anymore, I’ll take it off and throw it away. Is that what you want? Freedom to wave your willy around 24/7 and jerk off every hour?”
“No, Miss! I… I like being locked up.” What was I saying?
She smiled sweetly at me. “I don’t expect you to see your erection ever again, sweetheart. Never, ever! Like I don’t expect you will ever again have penetrative sex.”
I tensed up and my stomach sank. I was floored by what she had said. But then I saw hidden meaning in her words. “Are you… are you saying that’s because you and I will be together for always, Miss?”
Her face lit up. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, sweetheart!” With that, she leant forward and kissed me full on the lips, her tongue then exploring my mouth. She pulled out long enough to say, “Shall we go into the bedroom?”
