Simon stood naked in Sarah's bedroom, awaiting, he hoped, a handjob as a reward for drafting a new and undated letter of resignation. His cage was still locked in place and his penis was becoming impatient as he watched Sarah reach into the drawer of her bedside cabinet. Was this where she hid his key, he wondered? No! His stomach dropped as he saw she had withdrawn a pair of handcuffs. "Lie on your back on the bed," she instructed. "Arms stretched above you."

Feeling he had no choice if he was to get any relief, he did as he was told and soon felt the cold steel of the cuffs securing his wrists to the vertical bars of the metal headboard. An involuntary tug told him that these were not toy handcuffs and he was not going to escape them. He watched, anxiously, as she pulled something else out of the drawer. It was a blindfold, which she tied around his eyes, completely obscuring his vision.

"Over the next year, you'll not be seeing your erections, Simone, so you'd best get used to being blindfolded."

There was a delay of a couple of minutes and Simon wasn't aware of what was happening. And then he felt her fiddling with the lock of his device. He winced as she snatched it free--his partially engorged penis had dumbly welded itself to the bars and, in its stupidity, didn't intend to let go easily. Almost instantly, as it was freed, it stood fully to attention and ready for action. Simon waited, keen to discover what Sarah would do next and hoping that she had not tricked him.

Then, to his utter amazement, he became aware that she was sucking him! Her lips had closed on his erect member and her tongue was gently licking its sensitive glans, tantalising the many nerve endings that resided there. Oh my god! He had not expected this but it was heavenly. He couldn't help but move his hips, trying to thrust his organ deeper into her mouth to increase the sensations that were rippling through him. Sarah resisted these manoeuvres, teasing him by withdrawing her lips as he pushed upwards. She was going to play this her way.

For several minutes, she used her lips and tongue to caress him, and he was becoming more wild in response, desperate for her to finish him off. Sometimes her tongue attempted to push into his urethra, while the rest of the time it toyed with his glans, driving him crazy. She knew what she was doing and always made sure never to approach the point of no return. Rather than relieving his frustrations, all she was doing, so far, was adding to them.

"Please, Miss, keep going," he moaned, but in response, she withdrew, and his organ was left wet with her saliva, wagging in desperation but receiving no stimulus. "Please," he urged. "Please carry on, Miss!"

She waited until his appeals, and his hip thrusts, stopped and only then did she continue. Just as Pavlov's dogs had formed associations that controlled their responses, so Simon soon worked out that silence and stillness were the keys to Sarah continuing her actions. She was in full control. For several minutes, she carried on, bringing him closer to climax but always stopping short. And then, to his abject disappointment, she ceased her ministrations.

For a few seconds, he thought she was going to leave him in a state of total despair, but then, astonishingly, he felt her climbing onto the bed and straddling him, her head facing towards his feet. As she carefully lowered herself down, he realised his nose was close to her anus but, thankfully, she was clean, and all he was aware of was a pleasant scent from her vagina. Then her vulva--already drenched with her juices--was pressed firmly into his face. While she was clearly naked from the waist down, something told him she was completely undressed, and he regretted that his bound hands weren't free to explore her pert breasts.

She wriggled a little to fine-tune her position, and very soon, her pussy was encompassing his mouth. He found that she, like him, was shaved but, unlike him, she didn't have a landing strip--her genital region was completely void of hair. It was as smooth as a baby's bottom. With his nose, he was smelling her musky fragrance, and with his mouth tasting her salty, aromatic secretions. It was five years since he had last had those experiences with Sarah but the memories came flooding back. He knew what to do and his lips engaged with hers and his tongue sought out her clitoris. He presumed that unless he performed exceedingly well, and met her expectations, there was little or no chance of her resuming work on his erection.

As his mouth and tongue explored her most intimate and private quarters, so tiny twitches and murmurs from her told him when he was hitting the right spots. Memorising those areas, so he could instantly return, he then used his tongue to venture into her vagina, adding more lubrication to what was already very wet. He alternated between clitoris, labia, and vagina, all the time working her up towards what he hoped would be a frenzy of sexual excitement that she would be willing to share with him.

And, from the signals she was sending, he was having success, and she was enjoying herself. On occasions, she got carried away and started putting more weight on him, almost suffocating him--or even drowning him in her copious fluids. He was then driven mad as her fingers returned to delicately fondle his organ. Sometimes she gently stroked it with a single finger, and other times she encircled it with index finger and thumb, applying exactly the right up-and-down pressure to its shaft. He couldn't get enough of this and for the first time since being taken in by Sarah, he was thinking that perhaps a submissive lifestyle might not be so bad after all.

Each of them continued to stimulate the other as they edged towards a common climax, but it was Sarah who was always in command. There was no chance of Simon coming before she was ready and she knew how to tease him. Their interplay seemed to go on forever, but he could tell that Sarah was becoming close to reaching a crescendo. And as she inched towards that moment, so she intensified the fondling of his phallus.

Suddenly, she let out a scream, and her body convulsed, making it difficult for him to keep his lips and tongue working their magic. But he did his utmost to keep going, and a few seconds later, she rewarded him by bringing him to a tumultuous conclusion, causing his hips to heave violently up and down. He felt his jism eject explosively in a powerful stream as she continued to massage his now hypersensitised organ, draining him of the last drop of semen.

As their joint orgasm came to an end, Sarah didn't stop manipulating his penis, even as it began to shrivel. In return, Simon carried on tending to her genitalia while savouring the juices that had been squirted out at the height of her passion. Only after what seemed like an age, did she move off his face and lie beside him on the bed.

"Wow!" she gasped, struggling to get words out.

"Wow ... indeed," he replied, just as breathlessly. And he was not exaggerating, because that was one of the most powerful orgasms he had ever had. In the past, before his disgrace, he'd had penetrative sex with Sarah on many occasions, but none compared in intensity with what he had just experienced. The difference, he realised, was that this evening Sarah had called the shots, and by teasing and denying him, she had ensured that they had both rapturously climaxed together. When Sarah had hinted, on Friday evening, that she had gained experience over the past five years, she was telling the truth.

For the next couple of minutes, they lay side-by-side on the bed. He could hear her heavy breathing and smell her delightful bodily aromas. Her warm and naked body was pressed against his and her hand stroked his hairless chest. He, of course, still secured to the bars of the headboard, was unable to reciprocate other than to push his body closer to hers to increase the intimacy. For a few precious minutes, they could have been a normal couple who had enjoyed a bit of kinky sex. His recent humiliations seemed to recede, and he even began to wonder if he had dreamt them all.

"I told you I'd ... take care of you, ... if you behaved," she muttered, still out of breath.

"Thank you," he said.

"Thank you, Miss," she reminded him, bringing him back down to earth.

"Thank you, Miss," he answered.

They lay there in silence for a few more minutes before she announced, "You stay there while I have a shower." As if he had any choice in the matter! She was gone for what seemed ages, and by the time she reappeared, he knew he was erect again.

"Oh, Simone!" she admonished him. "You're not getting it again." He heard her leave the room, and she soon returned with what he discovered--painfully--was a bag of ice cubes. Quickly, his organ shrank in size and wasting no time she reattached his device and snapped the padlock shut, giving it a sharp tug to ensure it was secured.

She then removed his blindfold. It took a few seconds for him to become accustomed to the light but he saw she was fully dressed. It seemed that as well as ensuring he never caught a glimpse of his erect penis, she was also intent on making certain he only saw her fully clothed. "I hope you know that was a special treat. You weren't due for release today. Understood?"

"Yes, Miss."

"It shows you that I'm not a heartless bitch. If you're a good girl, as you were when you signed the new letter, then you may get rewarded. But if you're a naughty girl, and break the rules, then you'll be denied release and you'll be punished."

"Yes, Miss. But, but what are the rules? I don't want to break them. Will they be written down?"

"No, because they're largely common sense. And the best way of learning the rules is to break them and then to be punished. The punishment you get will serve as a better teacher than any list would be. Besides, the rules at home might be different to the rules at work or when we're with others. Understand?"

"Hmm, no, I don't, Miss."

"You can be so dense sometimes! I'll give you an example. At home, you call me Miss, but at work, you call me Sarah. Is that simple enough for you?"

"Oooh! I see what you're saying. Yes!"

She undid his handcuffs, commenting. "You need to have a shower and make sure to clean all the crud off your penis by spraying it with jets of water. I don't want it getting smelly and infected. OK?"

"Yes, Miss," he replied.

"And then you can clean up the mess you've made in my bedroom. I'm surprised your spunk's not dripping off the ceiling!"

He had his shower and then changed the bed linen in Sarah's room, feeling strangely proud of the mess he'd made. Then he was sent to his own room where he found that Sarah had laid out his clothes for the work the following day. As expected, there was a clean pair of panties and a bra, but no camisole or tights. Neither was his suit there, but instead a smart pair of black trousers and a crisp, blue satin shirt, both of which would have belonged to Sarah's former girlfriend. To finish off, there were blue socks and a pair of black shoes with two-inch heels. There were also the two falsifies for his bra. Evidently, judging from this ensemble, his days of pretending to be male while dressed in female underwear were over. He had been dragged from the closet. However, he was still in seventh heaven from the handjob that Sarah had given him and he would not let tomorrow's problems spoil his sweet dreams.

oooOOooo

The next morning he was again awoken early due to a nocturnal erection although, having been drained of semen the evening before, the pain was less intense than on previous mornings. He showered and shaved and slowly the swelling of his organ subsided, only to return when he began to get dressed in the clothes that Sarah had selected for him.

She had been right that he did relish wearing female clothing, at least in private, although he had no desire to become a girl. Now, with his secret obsession laid bare to all at work, he also had to dress en femme in public. The thought made him nervous yet, strangely, it didn't terrify him in the way it would have done a few days ago. After all, his colleagues had been supportive of him and no one had laughed or mocked him, at least not to his face. He felt he could survive this day, especially as the clothes laid out for him weren't ridiculously girly. A skirt and high heels would have been far worse, though he suspected that Sarah might be building up to that.

Sure enough, his day went as well as he had hoped. In some ways, his attire was more respectable than it had been the previous day when his camisole and bra were visible through his white blouse. The blue top he was wearing today made his bra less obvious.

The remainder of the week proceeded in a similar fashion. Female trousers and a suitable shirt were chosen for him each day by Sarah, and nothing she selected was over the top--at least, not so far. Sarah did tell him, though, that he should be wearing some light makeup and gave him a couple of short lessons in how to apply it. And his hair, which Emma had forbidden him to have cut, was now just long enough for Sarah to tie a band around to make a small ponytail. Whilst he was coping with these changes, Simon fully understood that he was sliding down a slippery slope and becoming more feminised by the day. Sarah was playing a long game.

Outside office hours, he continued with his chores at home. He was determined to do everything he could to please Sarah. She had shown him that good behaviour could be rewarded in the most exciting of ways. Equally, he had learnt that unacceptable behaviour would be punished. Luckily for him, despite Sarah's dire warnings that he would learn her rules by breaking them, she went easy on him, telling him off sometimes but not usually imposing any punishments.

He attended to his duties both before and after office hours and, by Friday evening, the house was spotless. Sarah, wearing a white cotton glove, had gone around rubbing a finger over surfaces in the hope, he assumed, of finding dirt, but she had found none. And his efforts had not been restricted to visible surfaces. As well, he had emptied cupboards, cleaning them out and putting everything back neatly, labels facing forward, where appropriate. Sarah's double oven had been given a thorough renovation and now looked brand new. And both the fridge and the freezer had been sorted out to Sarah's satisfaction. Finally, bookshelves had been reorganised so the volumes were ordered by author, something Sarah had never managed to achieve. There was nothing more indoors to be done, other than keep on top of things.

Needless to say, he became increasingly frustrated as the week progressed. Wearing female clothing, and being bossed around by Sarah, meant that his penis was often in a state of partial arousal. He was longing for when she might release him and bring him to another thunderous climax. He knew better than to raise his growing desperation with Sarah, as that would very likely lead to a further increase in the time he was locked up.

He had, though, blotted his copybook on Friday evening when Sarah had discovered a hair lying on the shower tray. "What's this?" she yelled downstairs to him. He'd hurried up to the bathroom and quickly saw what she was pointing at. How it had got there, he had no idea because he had thoroughly cleaned the shower that morning after he and Sarah had used it. She may even have planted it there, and he couldn't tell, looking at it, whether it was one of his or one of hers.

Sensibly, he didn't raise the question of the hair's origin. It was in his best interests simply to apologise. "I'm really sorry, Miss. What can I say? I should have noticed it and removed it."

Secretly, he was praying that this frank admission would satisfy Sarah, but, unfortunately, it didn't. "After dinner, you can spend half an hour of your free time facing the wall with your hands on your head. This will give you time to reflect on your poor work ethos."

This was so unfair, particularly after all the effort he had been putting into his domestic chores, on top of going into the office and working hard there. But he had no option other than to accept his punishment. Sarah made him stand in his bedroom where, as she put it, he wouldn't be distracted by the sound of the television. Consequently, it was a lonely thirty minutes that he spent facing the wall, with seconds seeming like minutes.

A bolder version of Simon might have chosen to disobey instructions and simply to have spent the time sitting on his bed. However, if this bolder version had ever existed then it had been slapped down, first by Emma and now by Sarah. The thought of not precisely following Sarah's orders didn't occur to him for a moment. He didn't need to remind himself of the terrible consequences that would follow were Sarah to discover that he had been disobedient.

Once his time was up, Sarah shouted upstairs for him to come down. "So, what have you been thinking about, Simone?" she enquired, as he entered the lounge.

In truth, he had spent the time thinking about the unfairness of his punishment, but that wasn't what she wanted to hear, so he had to lie. "Er, I've learnt that I must check and double-check the cleanliness of the shower, Miss. I'm sorry to have let you down."

She nodded approvingly. "Good girl, Simone," she added. "I'd spoken to Miss Robinson this morning, and she had said how effective corner time was a punishment. It seems she was right, so we'll use that again! By the way, she liked your lines. She said they were very neat. Actually, she seemed amused you'd written them, and so did her new boyfriend, whom she showed them to."

Not for the first time, Simon couldn't believe what Sarah had told him. Emma not only already had a new boyfriend, but he'd seen the lines that Simon had been forced to write. Rather than finding them funny, Simon hoped that the new boyfriend might take them as a warning sign that he could be the next to write lines.

He was suddenly aware that Sarah was talking to him again. "Miss Fraser's coming round tomorrow morning to give you some fashion and make-up advice," she remarked, in a matter-of-fact manner. This is what he'd feared since his conversation with Ms Deacon on Monday. There were questions he wanted to ask Sarah, but the answers--if she gave him any--were unlikely to ease his mind, so he kept quiet.

Shortly afterwards, he was sent off to bed, but he had difficulty falling asleep. His mind was reflecting on his week. He knew that Sarah's net was closing in around him, and there seemed to be no escape from her dominance and the control she had over him. Yet he had also seen, on Monday evening, that she was capable of kindness and, if his behaviour pleased her, he could be rewarded. His brain was very muddled and conflicted. And what would Claire add to the mix?