I was settling into a routine with Amy at university, all with the consent of Laura. Calling Amy “Miss” was now a habit, and once or twice, I had embarrassed myself by calling her that in front of an unsuspecting James, much to his amusement.

I had also got used to showing her what knickers I was wearing each morning, and I knew it gave her great satisfaction in humiliating me in that way. And once or twice a week, she expected me to worship her toes, and we would lock ourselves into the disabled toilet so as not to be disturbed. A couple of times I had done something to upset her, and she had instructed me to come in early the next morning to complete some corner time before James arrived.

And then there was her washing. On a Friday, she would arrive with a small plastic bag that she would hand over to me. “Bring them back clean and folded on Monday,” she would say.

On a Saturday morning, after handwashing Laura's lingerie and her other delicate items, and then washing my own undies, I would tentatively open Amy's bag.

Inside would be panties, at least one pair for each day of the week, three or four “ordinary” bras and perhaps a couple of sports bras. It was always a motley collection, with no obvious link between panties and bras, confirming what she had told me that she didn't worry about coordinating colour and styles. And the items differed from one week to the next, suggesting she had a large collection of lingerie at her disposal.

I always found myself wondering what her beautifully fit figure must look like when wearing what was in my hands, and my penis would respond in the only way it knew. Being heedful of Laura's instructions not to sniff Amy's stuff, I would simply wash it, yet some of her scent would always diffuse into my nasal passages and I would find myself being turned on. There was something improper about washing another girl's lingerie and the naughtiness involved always caused my penis to swell in its cage.

I was always frank with Laura about the effects Amy's undies were having on me, but she simply smiled, reminding me never to smell them.

Then, on the third week, there was a surprise in the bag. There was an extra pair of panties. They were turquoise and made of satin. I felt certain they were the ones she had been wearing when she gave me a flash after I had worshipped her feet one Sunday after lunch.

I realised there was something different about them. For a start, the fabric was stuck together, and I had to prise it open, revealing a large residue of a partially dried out and partially congealed mess. Instantly, I knew what it was because my nasal passages were assailed by the stench of stale semen.

Instinctively, I recoiled, dropping the panties into the warm water. At the same time, my penis started twitching madly. So madly, I thought for a moment that I might have an involuntary orgasm.

My brain went into overdrive. Amy had never mentioned having a boyfriend. In fact, until a month or so ago, she had been trying to entice me away from Laura and into an FLR with her. She had even promised me penetrative sex every two weeks if I made the swap.

I had told her—very firmly—that Laura was the girl for me. But I knew—and Amy knew—that there was still a sexual attraction between her and me. However, I was also sure that in the hypothetical case of me going to live with Amy, even if her promise of fortnightly sex was to materialise, I would be wearing a condom.

Now, I felt a strange sense of rejection. In the sink in front of me was evidence that she had had unprotected sex with someone, an act that would have been denied me. Moreover, judging from the volume of jism in the knickers, she had made no attempt to clean herself up afterwards, but had put these panties on, allowing gravity to do its work.

And here they were—unashamedly presented to me to handwash and clearly intended to send me a powerful message. She wanted me to learn she had a boyfriend who had been allowed to have unprotected sex with her. What's more, to rub my nose in it (so to speak!) they were the very same panties that she had given me a glimpse of when she came around for lunch. She was taunting me in a cruel way.

I was certain she was putting me in my place. I felt pangs of jealousy, despite knowing that I never had any intention of leaving Laura for her. She was intentionally humiliating me by giving me these soiled panties, and my throbbing penis told me that she had succeeded.

oooOOooo

Later that morning, I told Laura of my discovery. “So what?” she had said, “Amy's allowed to have a boyfriend.”

“Yes,” I replied, “but making no attempt to remove the semen before giving them to me for washing is weird.”

“Did you find it humiliating having to remove another man's jism, sweetie?” she asked.

“Well... yes, yes, I did. Of course, I did. What man wouldn't, Miss?”

“She knows you get a kick from being humiliated, so that's why she did it! Mystery solved.”

I couldn't believe how relaxed Laura was about what had happened. I thought she would be furious with Amy, but quite the opposite. Now, I started feeling guilty about reacting the way I did. Was I being unfaithful to Laura? My brain was in a mess.

oooOOooo

On Monday, after the usual formalities, I handed Amy her laundry, all clean and neatly folded and sitting in a new plastic bag.

She took the bag off me, commenting, “Thank you, pet, that saved me a job. I don't seem to get the spare time that you do. I'm always very busy.”

Spare time? Me? What spare time? But I replied, “I'm happy to help, Miss, and Miss Laura is happy with me helping.”

Amy smiled at me. “Thank you, pet. I'm... I'm sorry about the deposit.”

“Deposit?”

“Yes, in the turquoise ones. The messy gunk, hmm? Remember?” How could I not remember?

“Oh! Think nothing of it, Miss,” I replied, trying to make it sound like no big deal, while going red in the process.

“Good! I hoped you'd say that,” she concluded, clapping her hands with glee. “I didn't fancy cleaning up that disgusting mess myself. I felt sick just looking at it, but I knew you wouldn't mind. It's boy stuff, so you must be used to it.” She was winding me up, with her usual skill. I needed to remain unrattled.

“No, it didn't bother me,” I lied, but the supercilious expression on her face told me that she was not believing me and that she knew that this conversation was increasing my embarrassment.

“I'm supposed you used to— Oh, hang on, being locked up, you probably don't see it very often, pet.”

“Er... no, Miss.” I was wondering if Laura had told her that often I must swallow my jism, which is even worse than cleaning it off a pair of panties. This was not a line I wanted to take, so I tried to change the direction of the conversation. “Er... you have a boyfriend now, Miss?”

“Why do you ask, pet?”

“Er... I was just wondering, that's all.”

“Is it any of your business, pet?”

“No, Miss... sorry.”

“You had your chance, and you rejected me. That hurt me, you know. Do you get pleasure from hurting women, pet?”

“No! You know I don't! For heaven's sake, Amy... sorry, Miss Amy. You know me better than that.”

“Do I, pet? There's a lot I've still to learn, I'm sure,” she replied, smiling. She was enjoying provoking me, and I was taking the bait.

“Sorry... I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to get me riled and—”

“Well, you are getting flustered, pet, and you've been asking me impertinent questions. Is it your place to interrogate me about my love life? Hmm?”

“No! I'm not trying to pry, Miss, but—”

“Then be quiet, pet! Unless you want another spell in the corner to calm down.”

“No, Miss, I'm sorry.”

“Well, I think some corner time—” I counted my blessings that at that moment, James appeared. Amy gave me a coy smile, mouthing, “Lucky escape, pet!”

“You two okay?” asked James. “You look tense, Steve. Has Amy been putting you in your place again?” he grinned. “Sorry, Amy, I'm only joking!” Did he know how close he was to the truth?

oooOOooo

I related my conversation to Laura that evening, who agreed with Amy that it was none of my business. Nevertheless, I sensed that Laura wanted to make it her business, so it was a little surprise two evenings later when she told me she'd spoken to Amy on the phone.

“She told me everything, sweetie,” Laura said. “The most incredible story about this lovely boy she met! You wouldn't believe what they did together.” There was excitement in Laura's voice, and she waited to see how I reacted. As she must have calculated, I was anxious to hear what Amy had said.

“So, what happened, Miss? Who was the boy? Do we know him?”

“Calm down, muffin. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you anything else.”

“Eh?”

“It's a girl thing. You know, the sort of things that girls share when talking to one another. It's not for boys to hear. I'm really sorry, muffin!”

“Oooh!” I exclaimed, unable to conceal my disappointment. “Can't you just tell me a little more? Is she going steady with this boy? Is it going to happen again that I get to wash her encrusted panties?”

“Stop pestering me, Stevie! I've told you, I can't tell you more. Are you going to stop nagging me, or do I have to put you in the corner for half an hour? I'm more than happy to do so.”

In Laura's eyes, I was on the point of crossing the line into unacceptable behaviour, and I needed to back away.

Contritely, I replied, “I'm sorry, Miss. I'm just interested, but I honestly respect that you have to maintain Miss Amy's confidence.”

“Okay! I can understand your curiosity, muffin. I know, it's a complete bummer. Now, if you were a girl, then—” She broke off midsentence, and I could instantly tell where this was going. A smile broke out across her face as she pretended to have a lightbulb moment. “Hang on! I've spotted a loophole, sweetheart. If... if you were dressed as a girl, then I could share my knowledge with you. We'd be conversing girl to girl. What do you think?”

Well, for a start, I couldn't help but think this had been planned, either with or without Amy's connivance. I had not had to wear a dress since that Sunday when Amy came to lunch. While Laura had expected me to keep my body hairless, and she had motivated me doing so by helping me in the shower, she had not mentioned dresses, nail varnish nor make-up since that day. I could see this was about to change.

“Er... you want me to wear a dress, Miss?” I tentatively enquired, while being aware of a stirring in my chastity device.

“Yes, sweetie. That's my brainwave! If you want me to share all the saucy details, you need to look like a girl—dress, nails, make-up and wig! We'll do it on Sunday!”

“I see... but will Amy... Miss Amy being here?”

“Noooo!” she screeched, adding, “Unless you want her here?”

“No! No, I don't!” I exclaimed. “Will... will anyone else be here?”

“My God, you're so suspicious! Don't you trust me?” There were occasions when I had good reasons not to, but I spared having to compose a reply as she continued, “No, it'll just be the two of us, muffin.”

I tried to disguise my sigh of relief.

oooOOooo

Friday evening, as we drove back from uni, Laura remarked, “I saw the costume girl at the Amateur Dramatic Society this afternoon. We can't borrow a wig because they're using them this weekend.”

“Oh,” I replied, not sure whether this was good or bad news.

“But don't worry, we'll buy you your own, with real hair! We'll go fifty-fifty on the cost. There's a hairdresser in town we can go to tomorrow, muffin.”

“Oh, won't that be expensive?”

“It shouldn't be too bad if you choose a short style, sweetie.”

“Would it not be cheaper if we got one online, Miss?”

“Aaahh!” she exclaimed. “You can't fool me! You're nervous about going to the shop, aren't you?”

“Well, yes, I am, Miss.”

“Entirely understandable, but there's nothing to worry about, muffin. You'll be fine. Trust me! They have a private back room for wig fitting.”

“Er... okay,” I replied, with a deep sigh. Arguing with Laura was always a fruitless endeavour.

“And I'll let you choose the colour, poppet. It'll be entirely your decision.”

“Oh, okay, Miss.”

“Personally, I would fancy you most as a blonde, but it's entirely your choice, muffin. You could go brunette if you wanted to. It's up to you. I just say I like blondes.”

“Hmmm... I think blonde sounds best, Miss,” I sensibly concluded.

“Really?! Wow, you'll look fantastic, sweetheart. I can't believe the same look appeals to us both,” she smiled.

I smiled back, but nervously.