It was after dinner one evening that events took a devastating turn. Laura and I were sitting, side-by-side, watching television, when my phone rang. The caller display read “Phoebe”. It was my sister! Instinctively, I panicked and declined the call.

“Who was that, poppet?” asked Laura, innocently.

“Er... nobody, Miss,” I replied, feeling my cheeks flush.

My reply had alerted Laura's sixth sense. “What do you mean by that? It had to be somebody, it can't have been nobody.”

“Er... it was a wrong number, Miss.”

“You don't know that if you didn't answer. Show me your phone—now!” Her tone had become menacing. “Now, I said!”

Reluctantly, and knowing I was going to be in trouble, I passed my mobile to Laura.

“My God! It was your sister calling you. How can you say it was nobody. It might have been something important. Where's the respect you told me you have for women—for your Mum and your sister?”

“I don't get on well with my sister, Miss. I'm very sorry.”

“You will be. Go and fetch your handcuffs and strip down to your underwear.”

I scuttled off and came back with the cuffs. Quickly, I got undressed so that I was just in bra and panties. Putting my hands behind my back, Laura quickly pinned my wrists together.

“OK! Go and stand in the corner while I phone your sister back.”

“No!! Please don't do that.”

“You've already earnt yourself an hour in the corner for deceit, Stevie. I'm very angry with you, so do you want the cane as well?”

“No, Miss, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.” Knowing I had no choice, and, fearing what was about to happen, I went over to face the wall.

Laura dialled the missed call number on my phone, putting it on speaker. I heard it ring, and it was quickly answered.

“Hi, Stephanie!” beamed my sister. I cringed on hearing that!

“What!” replied Laura, clearly puzzled.

“What!” echoed Phoebe. “Who are you? Where's er... Stephen?”

“I'm Laura. I'm his girlfriend and he's, er, he's tied up at the moment and can't come to the phone.”

“His girlfriend?! My God, I thought he was gay,” snorted my sister.

“No, he's not gay. We live together!”

“No way! I didn't think he was straight.”

“Why on earth not?”

“Something he did when he was younger, which I've never got over.”

“What... what do you mean?”

“You should ask him, Laura.”

“I'm not following you, Phoebe. Ask him what?”

“Ask him about his sordid little secret. If he doesn't tell you, then I will, but it's only fair that he gets chance to confess so you know who it is you're living with. Call me back later if he stays shtum.”

“OK, I'll talk to him! But I can't believe he's got secrets, certainly not sordid ones. You've got me worried.”

“You need to know, Laura. I'd feel very guilty if he took advantage of you and I had kept quiet. We girls need to stick together.”

“OK! Yes, I agree with you, but why were you calling him anyway?”

“Mum reckoned he ought to know I've got engaged! I'm getting married, Laura! His name is Eric!”

“Oh, wow! Congratulations, Phoebe. I'll tell him. He'll be delighted, I'm sure.”

Phoebe sniggered, “You might want to ask him if he fancies being a bridesmaid!”

“What?!”

My sister giggled, replying, “Only joking, Laura! I won't say anymore. I've said too much—me and my big mouth.”

I could tell that Laura was dying to know more about what I had done to upset Phoebe, but she was prepared to wait, so for the next few minutes she and my sister just talked about their lives in general. They were getting on like a house on fire. Most worrying was they wanted to meet up in person, something that horrified me.

“Anyway, I must go, Phoebe,” concluded Laura. “Things to sort out.”

“It's been nice talking to you, Laura, and I can't wait to meet you—to meet the poor sod who has to put up with my little brother. See you soon!”

With that, the call was ended. There was a deathly silence as Laura processed—or tried to process—what she had heard.

I stood motionless in the corner, feeling sweat beads building up on my forehead and running down from my armpits.

oooOOooo

It seemed ages before Laura spoke. “So, Stevie, or is it Stephanie, turn around and face me. What is this dirty little secret you want to tell me?”

I didn't want to tell her anything.

“I'm waiting, or would you rather I call Phoebe back?”

“Er..., please don't do that. It was something that happened a long time ago, Miss.”

“That must make it worse, if it's something your sister has never forgotten.”

“I did something stupid, Miss.”

“Tell me something I don't already know, Stephanie. And why would Phoebe want you to be a bridesmaid at her wedding?”

“She was teasing, Miss. She said she was joking.”

“There's no smoke without fire. You've ten seconds to put me in the picture, and then I phone her back. Ten... nine... eight... seven...”

“OK! I'll tell you. But she's exaggerating. My secret is not that sordid...”

“Six... five...”

I was panicking. “I was only about sixteen at the time...”

“Four... three... two... one...”

“OK, she caught me in her room, Miss, going through her underwear drawer.”

“What?!” There was a stunned silence. Unusually, Laura was lost for words. “I... I can't believe what I'm hearing. That's a complete breach of trust... I'm shocked, really shocked!” Laura looked visibly agitated and this time I didn't get any impression it was an act she was putting on.

“I was curious, that's all. I just wanted to see what she had...”

Laura screwed up her face in disgust. “You invaded her privacy, her personal stuff, so no wonder she's still upset with you,” she sneered.

“She and her friend, Zoe, caught me red-handed.”

“A bloody good job they did! I'm glad! And what happened? I hope they punished you?”

“They made me get dressed up in Phoebe's old school uniform, including her old undies, and then write out one hundred lines.”

Laura shook her head in despair. “Call that a punishment? I bet you loved wearing the uniform,” she snarled. “You were a dirty little pervert, Stephanie, weren't you?”

“Yes, Miss,” I agreed.

Suddenly, her facial expression changed as a new thought occurred to her. “Have you done this to me? Have you been through my underwear collection? Have you taken advantage of the trust I place in you to behave in my flat?” She was agitated.

“No, Miss, honestly I haven't done that.” I was telling the truth.

“What about the key to your chastity cage. You know where I keep it, don't you? Have you every unlocked yourself when I've not been here?”

“No, Miss, no! I know where you keep the key, but I would never use it.” Again, what I said was true.

“Hmm... I'm not sure I believe you, so I'm going to move the key and keep it somewhere else.”

“I do understand, Miss,” I said, contritely.

“Any sane woman would kick you out, Stevie,” she continued. “They would say they couldn't live with someone they didn't trust.”

“No!! Please don't do that, Miss,” I pleaded. “I love you!” This was the first time I had said that to her.

Her eyes shot open, and she stared at me. I thought I detected a tear rolling down her cheek. “As it happens, I love you as well, which is why I'm not booting you out. But this disclosure has rocked the boat. You're not the person I thought you were. You've knocked me for six.” She was upset, and she dabbed her eyes with a tissue, yet I sensed a glimmer of hope in her reply.

She carried on, “We need a way of righting a wrong. What makes it worse is that you weren't even punished properly at the time. One hundred lines and the chance to dress up as a schoolgirl. It would be laughable, were it not so serious. How could they possibly think that was a punishment? I bet you got aroused wearing Phoebe's clothes and then had a wank afterwards!” She was right, but this wasn't the time to admit it.

“It seemed a very severe punishment at the time, Miss. I was mortified by what they did to me.”

“I hope you're not trying to play the victim, Stevie, trying to put the blame on your poor sister and her friend. That's a classic male gambit, to blame the woman.”

“No, I take the blame for what happened. They were right to do what they did, Miss.”

“Does your mother know?”

“No, she doesn't. Phoebe gave me a choice of accepting a punishment, or else letting Mum find out what I had done.”

“You need to make amends, Stevie. You need to atone for what you did, so we can put this behind us. Yes? You need to be properly punished. I can't allow you to get away with humiliating your sister like you did.”

Me humiliate Phoebe? It was the other way around—I was the one who had been humiliated! But meekly I agreed with Laura, “Yes, I understand, Miss.”

“What do you say to twelve strokes of the cane for what you did?”

I felt the colour drain from my face. The three strokes I had received previously had been enough to make me scream out. How could I cope with twelve?

Laura was gauging my reaction, and I made no attempt to disguise my fear. She continued, “If you allow me to punish you in front of your sister, I'll reduce it to six strokes.”

The thought of my sister seeing me being caned horrified me. I tried to think quickly on my feet. “She might not approve of corporal punishment, Miss. We neither of us ever had it when growing up.”

“Hmm... I'm willing to bet she will approve, Stevie, at least where you're concerned! Knowing you are going to be punished, might bring her closure. I want you to call her now and tell her you're going to be caned. Put it on speaker so I can hear what's said.”

“Yes, Miss,” I replied, meekly. Laura still looked shaken, and I could see I had bridges to repair.

“I hoped you would see it my way. Here's your phone, so give Phoebe a call,” she said, stony-faced.

“Does she really need to know I'm going to be punished, Miss?”

“Of course she does, you moron. She's the wronged party so she needs to know there will be retribution,” Laura replied. “I'm sure she will enjoy seeing you caned.”

Despite her being upset with me, I could detect that Laura was beginning to relish the prospect of caning me and her nipples were now pushing against the cups of her bra. It would not have surprised me if her panties were becoming damp. I suspected that she saw a caning as a way of exorcising her own anger with me, as well as bringing closure for my sister.

oooOOooo

I had no choice but to call Phoebe. Fingers trembling, I did so, hoping beyond hope that she was no longer available to take a call. But no, she answered very quickly. “Hello?” she cautiously asked, unsure to whom she was talking.

“Hi,” I replied, “It's me.”

“Who's me?”

I glanced over at Laura, whose face was again set like stone. “It's... it's Stephanie, Phoebe,” I explained.

“Oh! So, it is. What do you want, Stephanie?” she replied, contemptuously.

“Er... I've explained to Laura that you found me rifling through your underwear collection and how you punished me by making me wear your old school uniform and write out lines.”

“Oh! What did she say?” I sensed she had perked up.

“She was horrified, Phoebe, and... and... er... she doesn't think I received a severe enough punishment at the time.”

“Oooh! Tell me more...” Worryingly, I could tell Phoebe's interest had been piqued.

“She intends to punish me further. She said you let me off too lightly.”

Phoebe let out a snort. “She's not wrong. I did go too easy on you. Zoe said the same. It's a bit late to be punished, but better late than never. What's she suggesting? Keeping her knees together and denying you sex? Stopping you going to the pub? Checking your browsing history?” She was mocking me, but her curiosity had been aroused.

“No! No! She intends to give me six strokes of the cane, Phoebe... across my bum!”

Phoebe gave a loud gasp. Whatever she was expecting, it was not that. “Phew!” she exclaimed “She wants to cane you? Oh, my God! No way!”

For a moment, I mistook what she meant by “no way”. I thought she was going to put her foot down and say that would be a disproportionate punishment, but, no, she continued, “I'm shocked, but she's right. The cane's exactly what you need. But only six strokes?” There was some disappointment in her voice.

“It'll really hurt, Phoebe. Honestly it will,” I protested, worried about Laura listening in.

“I should frigging well hope it frigging well does,” hissed Phoebe.

“And... and Laura thinks you should be here to see it done.”

“What?! Oh, gosh! Does she? I... I don't know what to say.”

At this point, Laura came closer to the phone and spoke out. “Laura here, Phoebe. You must come and see Stevie being punished. It's only right you do so, as you're the offended party. Then you and he can patch things up.”

“Oh, golly! I never thought this would happen. I'm... I'm so excited,” shrieked Phoebe. “He's had this coming for so long! I can't tell you how long, but Mum's a soft touch. I can't thank you enough for taking him in hand like this. It's what he needs.”

“When can you come, Phoebe?” asked Laura.

“Not for a while. Can I call you in a few days to arrange a date? Don't do it without me being there—please! Let me have your number.”

Laura read out her phone number, saying, “Yeah, give me a call when you know what you're doing. It'll give him a few days to stew, worrying about what will happen.” Both girls laughed. They were both now more relaxed, but I was very tense.

“Er..., can I send you the photos I took, Laura, so you can see for yourself that he was enjoying himself wearing my old underwear and school uniform.”

“Bloody hell! You took photos! He's not mentioned that. Yes, pleeeease, Phoebe, I'd love to see what a fool he made of himself.”

The call was ended. Laura looked at me and shook her head, trying to absorb what she had heard. “I really can't believe you treated your sister like that. She sounds lovely. You must have broken her heart when you invaded her privacy. The poor, poor girl.”

There was nothing I could say, and nothing that Laura wanted me to say. Instead, she added, “You'd best go back into your corner, Stevie, and spend the rest of the evening thinking about how your past has caught you up.”

As I got into position, I heard Laura's phone ping, not once, but multiple times. It could only mean one thing. The images that Phoebe promised to send were arriving, one after another. A minute or so later her phone rang.

“Yes, Phoebe, thank you, I've got them. He looks a proper pansy, and I can't believe what a stiffy he had. He was loving every minute of it! So much for him claiming to have been punished and embarrassed.” Despite the phone not being on speaker, I still caught Phoebe's guffawing on the other end, until it was drowned out by Laura laughing. “Don't worry, Phoebe, we'll make him regret what he did to you.”

oooOOooo

The days passed by, and Laura said nothing about when Phoebe was visiting. I was sure she knew, but she intended to keep me in the dark and I had no intention of annoying her by asking. The days turned into a week and then a week turned into a fortnight—still nothing was said. Unlikely though it was, maybe the whole thing had been forgotten?

However, a frostiness had settled over the flat. Laura stopped calling me “poppet”, “muffin” and similar terms of endearment. I was just “Stevie”, and I felt I would remain as such until justice had been served.

She and I had already settled into a routine, sharing the jobs around the flat. She did all the cooking, but I did all the cleaning. Luckily, as it was only a one-bedroomed flat, there wasn't much to clean, so my work was not too onerous. I was also given the chore of doing the laundry once a week, on a Saturday. Most of it went into the washing machine, but Laura had insisted that anything delicate—which included my underwear and her underwear—had to be handwashed.

I thought, perhaps, if she was so concerned about me getting close to her undies, she might change that rule, but no, I was still expected to continue handling her most intimate items of clothing every Saturday. Laura was nothing if not inconsistent!

So, it was a Saturday morning, when I was busy doing the handwashing, that the doorbell rang. “I'll get it, Stevie,” she called. “You keep doing what you're doing. Don't stop until I tell you.”

My brain went onto full alert and then my stomach sank when I heard my sister's voice. She and Laura were greeting each other like old friends, despite meeting in person for the first time. There were squeals of excitement and joy.

“Where's Stephanie?” enquired my sister. “Ooops... I mean Stephen. Sorry!”

“You can call him Stephanie if you wish. I don't mind and if it gets him embarrassed so much the better. He's doing the laundry at the moment.”

“Oh, very domesticated,” remarked Phoebe. “He expected me and Mum to do all the chores at home. You've trained him well.”

“I'll take you through.”

The pair entered the room where I was up to my elbows in suds. I had my back to them and started to turn around. “Hello, Phoebe, how are...”

“Do be quiet, Stevie, no one asked you to speak,” instructed Laura, in a way that put me in my place. “Keep going with the laundry.”

“Oh, gosh, he never had any fashion sense, but he gets worse,” mocked Phoebe, which I took to mean she was having a dig at my “unisex” outfit—a pink fleece, along with embroidered trousers that finished several inches above my ankles, revealing white ankle socks with pink trim. “Oh! And he's handwashing your knickers.”

Laura took a closer look and shook her head. “Nope! Those aren't mine, they're his.”

“What?! What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said—he wears knickers. He has no male underwear. And he's wearing a bra as well. Now stop what you're doing, Stevie, and get undressed.”

Crimson with embarrassment, I dried my hands on a towel and turned to face my sister. She was goggle-eyed, staring at my chest and at the bosom created by my filled bra. I looked over at Laura, pleading with my eyes not to be made to strip off, but there was no response.

I tried a verbal appeal. “I can't undress in front of my sister. It's not right,” I pleaded.

“I've seen it all before, Stephanie, so it doesn't bother me,” retorted my sister, with a sly smile.

“Mum wouldn't approve, Phoebe. She'd be angry,” I argued.

“Hmm... You might be right. I'll phone her and ask, shall I?” smirked my sister.

“No! Don't do that! Please!”

I glanced at Laura. She had a satisfied smile, evidently chuffed that Phoebe was entering into the spirit of the occasion.

Realising I was cornered, I unzipped the fleece and took it off, followed by my pink vest top. Phoebe stood open-mouthed as I revealed my pristine white bra, padded out with my falsies. And there was more to startle her as I unzipped my jeans and slipped them down, uncovering the matching panties.

“What?! Oh, my God!” exclaimed Phoebe, almost lost for words. “He... he's gay! But... but he can't be, if he's living with you.” She was perplexed and confused, and unable to process what she was seeing. I stood there red-faced with embarrassment. Of all people, Phoebe was the last I wanted to see me dressed like this.

“No, not gay,” assured Laura. “He's just had to come to terms with the fact that men cannot always be in control. It's hard for a man to be top of the pecking order when he's wearing panties and a bra. Women have been submissive to men for centuries, and now the tables are turning, at least they have Stevie. Haven't they, Stevie?”

“Yes, Miss,” I quietly replied.

“What?! He... he called you Miss!” hooted Phoebe, in astonishment, a broad grin on her face.

“Yes, and from now on he'll call you Miss as well, Phoebe.”

“Oh, golly! How have you trained him? I thought men were untrainable! What's the secret?” asked my sister, incredulously.

“Having him wear knickers really helps, but there is another secret as well. Pull your panties down, Stevie.”

Reluctantly, I did so, and Phoebe's eyebrows shot up as she saw my pink chastity device. “It's amazing what can be achieved by denying a man sex,” explained Laura. “He's putty in my hands, aren't you, Stevie?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Oh, gosh!!” shrieked Phoebe. “You are so clever, Laura. Do you think this would work with any man?”

“I don't see why not. They're all sex mad and think they have a God-given right to be in charge. Panties and denial of sex have quite a calming influence on their misogynistic tendencies. Isn't that right, Stevie?”

“Yes, Miss,” was all I could say, my face a red as a beetroot.

“You should try it with Eric, your fiance, Phoebe. Start as you mean to go on.”

“Hmm...?” pondered Phoebe, mulling over what Laura had said. It occurred to me this strategy might only work on poor Eric if he has latent submissive tendencies, but now was not the time to point out this possible flaw in Laura's reasoning.

“Anyhow,” continued Laura, with a smile, “we have business to do. We have a wrong that needs righting, don't we, Stevie?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Go and make us both coffee, Stevie, and I will explain to Miss Phoebe what's going to happen.” Turning to my sister, she added, “His behaviour towards you all those years ago has made me so, so angry, Phoebe, but we'll make him suffer.”

To be honest, Laura looked more excited than angry, but that didn't provide me with any comfort as I put the kettle on.