After pleasuring Alice with my mouth on Monday, I didn’t spend any time alone with her for three days, but the memory of that experience remained vivid, and just recalling it led to my penis swelling inside its tiny cage.
It was lunchtime on Thursday when I expected to be next alone with Alice, and, during that morning, as I busied myself with my chores, I frequently became distracted and aroused, anticipating what might happen over lunch. How would she be dressed? I so hoped she would be wearing a miniskirt again. And what colour panties would she have on? Would she invite me to take a peep at them? And then would she entice me to eat her, as I'd done on Monday? The standard of my housework dropped that morning, as I worked myself up into a frenzy of excitement.
So, imagine my disappointment when Alice entered the kitchen dressed conservatively in jeans. Nonetheless, no one could look better in lowcut, skintight jeans than Alice, her appearance enhanced by her toned, bare midriff. Just glancing at her caused a further stirring below, yet it was nothing compared with what I would have felt had she been dressed to kill.
I prepared her a sandwich and then poured out her usual coke. “Thanks,” she politely said. “Now, stand facing me, with your hands on your head, Julie... Good girl! Listen carefully to what I have to say.”
For a few seconds, she paused, seeking the best words to use. “What we did on Monday was wrong. Those in power—me, that is—should not take advantage of those below them—that's you. Nor should they confuse their underlings by tempting them to do what they are forbidden to do. Obviously, as the one in charge, I take responsibility for leading you on, but you should have resisted. You should have argued that what we did wasn't allowed. You're old enough to know better. We were playing with fire, Julie! We were stupid! You were stupid!”
She glared at me, and I felt butterflies taking off en masse in my stomach. I wasn't expecting this rebuke. “Sorry, Miss, I shouldn't have given in to temptation like I did. You're right, I should have refused... But...” I trailed off, unable to finish my sentence, fearing that what I might say would be misinterpreted.
“But... we both enjoyed it!” She smiled warmly. “Is that what you're trying to say?” She had said what I was thinking, but what I couldn't bring myself to say aloud.
Her smile suggested I could answer in the affirmative. “Yes, Miss, we did.”
“We did, but it won't happen again, Julie. The risks are too high.” She was looking directly at me, and I couldn't disguise my disappointment. “Come on! You must understand what I'm saying. Mum would be incandescent if she discovered what we'd done—you'd done, that is, because that's the way she'd see it. She'd skin you alive. You'd be dead meat, guilty of popping her precious daughter's cherry.”
I doubted very much that I was the first to penetrate Alice's private sanctuary, but the gist of what she said was true. “You're right, Miss,” I concluded, with an air of resignation. Hopes that had seemed so promising just three days ago had been demolished.
“Don't be sad, Julie. I can't see why you shouldn't get the occasional treat when you've been a good girl.” With a smug smile, she reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a pair of powder blue lace panties. “I've got a reward for you. I've worn these for two whole days, Julie, two whole days, twenty-four hours a day—especially for you. No pantiliner, either.”
Alice walked over towards me, holding them, but stopped dead in her tracks. “Oh, fuck, they've dried up and gone crusty. Erm..., er..., I know, a few drops of warm water might revive them” She ran the hot tap, caught some water on her fingers, and sprinkled it liberally onto the cotton gusset of her panties. Even from where I was standing, I could tell there had been a rejuvenation.
“Put your arms down,” she commanded.
I did so, and she pulled the panties over my head so that the gusset was pressed hard against my nose and mouth, then fixing the garment in place by pinning the waistband behind my ears. Instantly, I was assailed by the ripe spell of her sacred nectar. This was unmistakably "Alice", but in the most concentrated form imaginable. Immediately, my penis reacted in the way it had evolved to when presented with female pheromones, and very soon I was in intense pain. Yet nothing would stop me inhaling the intoxicating fumes from her knickers. My head was in heaven, while my groin was in hell.
She beamed at me, delighted that I was clearly gaining enjoyment from her worn underwear. “If Mum catches you doing this, you'll still be in big trouble, but you'll probably escape with your life,” she laughed. “You can sniff those while I eat my lunch, so turn around and face the wall, hands on your head.”
She was quiet for the next few minutes, as she ate her sandwich, leaving me in peace to derive sublime pleasure from breathing in her sacred scents. But then a new interrogation began. “Are you a masochist, Julie? I know what one is,” she added, for good measure. I had no doubt that she did know, like I assumed she also knew what a sadist was.
Nevertheless, this blunt line of questioning put me on the spot, and I was grateful that I had my back to her. How was I going to respond to this? “Er..., no, Miss. Masochists like to experience physical pain, such as torture or corporal punishment. Personally, I hate pain, so I would not enjoy that.” I felt my face flush, as I said this, but I was speaking the truth.
“Oh,” she replied, sounding confused. “So, if I were to put you over my knees, and spank your bare bottom, you wouldn't like it?”
Oh, God! This was a different form of pain she was suggesting, administered in a way that appealed to me. “I would find that humiliating, Miss,” I replied. I'd been honest, but economic with the truth, which is that the thought of going over her knees, and being in such intimate and sensual contact with her thighs, had increased still further the intense discomfort I was suffering from my swollen organ.
She didn’t give up. “Aah! So, it's this humiliation thingy, again. Hmm... But you don't find it humiliating standing there now, wearing my knickers over your face?”
After pausing to phrase my reply, I truthly responded, “Yes, I do, Miss... It's very humiliating.”
“Oh! This is meant to be a treat, Julie. I thought you liked my scent. Don't you?”
“Oh, God, yes, I do, Miss, but it's humiliating to be standing here now, facing the wall, hands on head, and with your dirty panties pressed over my nose and mouth.” I paused to decide how to word my next sentence. “It would be different if we were social equals, Miss. For example, if we were boyfriend and girlfriend, sharing an experience in the bedroom. Oh, my God, what am I saying. Sorry, Miss. I'm not suggesting for a minute that we should be on equal terms, but I'm just trying to explain why I find it humiliating when there is this big inequality between us.”
I was digging myself into a deep hole, and I wasn't sure how she would react. Fortunately, she laughed, “You're walking on thin ice, Julie, suggesting we might become equals. We're not and never will be! Get those stupid thoughts out of your head. But as far as I can see, we're both gaining something today. I'm enjoying watching you right now, and you're enjoying my scent. We're both winners, Julie, so stop complaining.”
“Yes, Miss; sorry, Miss.”
“Turn around and look at me, Julie.” I did so. The panties covering my face were positioned so that my eyes were able to look out and I was taken aback to see that her hand was pushed deep inside her jeans. She was absentmindedly playing with herself! Seeing my startled reaction, she swiftly withdrew the hand, wiping her wet fingers on her jeans. She blushed, something she rarely does, and quickly chose to pretend nothing had happened. “You don't get erections, do you?”
“Uh?”
“Well, I only have to smile sweetly at Brent, and a massive tent pole appears in his jeans. That doesn't happen with you, does it? Why not?”
The conversation was entering dangerous territory. Helen has always been adamant that her daughter must not discover I was locked in a chastity cage. “Well, I'm older than Brent, Miss,” I replied. This was undeniably correct, but it ducked the question. Would she buy it?
“Hmm... so you're saying that you can control your emotions better because you're older.”
“Yes, Miss,” I lied.
“So, you're not impotent?”
“Oh, no, Miss!”
“You must be in a sexual relationship with Mum. Right? I mean, it’s bloody obvious that there's something between you.”
“It’s not something I can discuss with you, Miss. Let’s just say that it’s not a normal relationship and we don’t share a bed.” I reckoned I had said too much already.
“Hmm..., that’s right, you don’t. Curiouser and curiouser. Can it get any stranger? If you don’t like being physically hurt, what’s the cane hanging on your bedroom wall. That only appeared a few days before you moved in.”
“It’s there as a deterrent and your Mum has not had to use it on me. It’s displayed there as a reminder, I suppose, that if I badly misbehave, I could be caned. And I don’t want to be caned—it would really, really hurt.”
She squealed, “So that would be a real punishment, and humiliating as well, I guess! Oh, what a complicated life you lead, Julie.” She then slurped down the last of her drink, before concluding our session. “OK, Julie, you can carry on with your duties. I want those knickers washed and returned to me by tomorrow morning, stain free. No wanking into them.”
My tormenting was over for the day, and she left the kitchen to go into town to meet up with friends, leaving me to clear up her lunch stuff—and handwash her panties, with the challenge of removing two days' worth of her vaginal secretions.
oooOOooo
My next humiliation began at dinner the following evening. The three of us were enjoying a superb meal cooked by Helen and we had been discussing what had been in the news that day when Helen suddenly chirped, “Sorry to change the subject, but while you’ve been here, I’ve not seen you do any exercise, Julie.”
I was worried where this might be leading, so I tried to nip in the bud whatever might be coming. “Well, I’m on the go all the time doing housework. That’s very good exercise, you know, both aerobic and anaerobic. And, besides, I don’t think I’d have the energy to do anything else. But did you see that report on the news about a cat that was trapped in a pipe?”
“Stop trying to change the subject,” Helen laughed. “You need to take some proper exercise, like Alice does. Otherwise, you are going to lose that slim figure.”
“Mummy’s right, Julie, you need to do proper exercise, like running. I do a 5k run twice a week in the local park, so why don’t you join me? It’d be cool to have some company.”
Helen agreed. “That’s a super idea, Alice. The park is so nice in the evenings, and fairly quiet. I love it when you two do things together.” She obviously did not know everything that her daughter gets up to when alone with me!
However, I didn't respond, partly because Alice quickly moved the conversation on. “I’m planning to run tomorrow evening about six because it’ll be a bit cooler then. So, make sure you are ready by that time.”
“Hang on,” said Helen. “Do you have any sports kit you can wear, Julie?”
Salvation appeared to be at hand. “No, I’m sorry, but I’ve nothing suitable for running. I would have to buy something when I next go to the supermarket, if they have anything, which they may not.”
“Oh! That’s a pity,” concluded Helen. I’m not sure she noticed me breathing a sigh of relief.
Alice spoke up. “Wait! I’ve a solution. Julie doesn’t need to waste her money on a sports kit because I no longer need to wear my old school stuff. This means that Julie can have it.”
“Oh, that’s an absolutely brilliant idea, Alice!” exclaimed Helen. “And it should just about fit because, apart from Julie being a few inches taller than you, her other measurements are only very slightly larger. What do you say to that, Julie?”
“Thank you, Miss, but I can’t wear something intended for a schoolgirl. I would look ridiculous.”
Helen replied in an irritated tone, “You’ve not even seen it yet and you are already coming up with excuses. Start injecting some positivity, Julie, and be grateful to Alice for her kindness. She’s saving you money.”
“Thank you, Alice,” I replied in a resigned manner. I was becoming convinced that this conversation had been pre-planned by the pair of them.
“I’ll bring you the stuff later, Julie. But my trainers won’t fit you so you’ll have to wear your pink ones until you can get some more. It shouldn’t matter, at the moment, because the ground is dry, so you won’t get your pink ones dirty.”
An hour later, Helen was watching television, and I was finishing off twenty-five lines in the kitchen that I’d been set earlier for something I’d forgotten to do. As I put the pen down, Alice marched in carrying a small pile of clothing. “Let me show you what you’ve inherited, Julie.”
First, she held up a black sports bra with a racer back. “This doesn’t have any fiddly hooks to do up. All you need to do is pull it over your head, over your breasts, and it will stay in place. It will be a tight fit, OK?”
Helen interrupted from the other room, “But keep your ordinary bra on as well, Julie. Two bras will give more security to your breast inserts. You don’t want the embarrassment of them falling out as you run.”
“Yes, I don't want you embarrassing me, Julie,” added Alice, unsuccessfully trying to keep a straight face. “Mum’s right, you wear two bras. And over your bras, there is this vest top.”
She held up a thin, white top, which I could see would be loose fitting and would not obscure either the sports bra or the straps of my usual white bra. But what concerned me was that on the front it said, in large letters, “St Cyril’s Grammar School for Girls, Cross Country First Team”. If I thought that was going to be awful to wear, the next item Alice held up was a pair of bottle-green, cotton gym knickers. I felt my face flush and then, seconds later, the colour drain away, leaving me ashen faced.
“I can’t wear those!” I protested. “Especially with that short skirt! My knickers will show, and I could get arrested for indecent exposure!” I’d seen that the remaining item was a very short, pleated gym skirt, in the same colour as the knickers.
Helen intervened again from the other room. “For crying out loud, Julie, try being positive for once in your life. I’m getting sick and tired of you looking on the bleak side. I want you to think why something can be done, not reasons why it can’t.”
“But...” I tried to say.
Helen interrupted. “For goodness’ sake, Julie. Those are gym knickers, and they are supposed to be seen. You wear them over your everyday panties.” She paused for a moment to see if I had anything to say, but I didn’t, so she walked into the kitchen to talk to me firsthand. “Look, you’ve watched tennis at Wimbledon, haven’t you? When a female player serves, her skirt flips up revealing her knickers. Do you really think those are the knickers she had been wearing to travel to Wimbledon on the tube? Of course they’re not, you idiot. They are sports knickers, intended to be seen, especially by lecherous old men!”
Alice joined in. “Julie, Mummy’s right. Look at these gym knickers. They’re big, with a higher waist and longer leg than your other knickers, so they’ll completely cover them. No one will see your white panties when you run. You understand?”
I shook my head, because I wasn’t convinced I had the courage to wear the knickers but, by now, Helen was losing her temper. Any further protests from me would definitely result in a meltdown by her. As it was, she announced, “You’re wasting your breath, Alice. It’s only 8 PM but Julie is going to bed right away. Off you go, girl! Put your nightie on, close the curtains and put the light out. When I’ve calmed down in the morning, I’ll let you know what your punishment is. Now get out of my sight!”
oooOOooo
I didn’t sleep well, wondering what my punishment would be. At least I’d held back from pushing Helen over the edge and by morning she would have had time to calm down. To try to make amends, at breakfast the next day I immediately apologised to Helen and said I would wear the sports kit that evening.
“Julie, you don’t know how close you have come to being caned right now and you may still be caned later today. You need to thank Alice for convincing me that you deserved a reprieve, even though it may only be temporary. I’m very proud of Alice. She’s half your age, yet far more mature. All I hear from you is whinging, whining and moaning, never anything constructive. Your attitude needs to change. I hope you understand the seriousness of your position?”
“Yes, Ma’am, I really do,” I replied with honesty.
“How dejected do you think Alice must have felt last night? She generously gave you her old sports kit and you threw it back in her face. Your behaviour was despicable.”
“I’m so sorry, Ma’am.”
“But are you really sorry? You may still be caned before bed this evening because Alice has only earned you a reprieve. This morning you will write a letter of apology to Alice, saying that you are very grateful for her kind gesture of giving you her old sports kit. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll also say how much you want to wear the kit and run with her. Oh, and also thank her for intervening to save you from being caned this morning. I will ask Alice to show me the letter and whether or not you get caned before bed will depend on the sincerity that you show in the letter. Have I made myself understood?”
“Yes, Ma’am, you definitely have. I realise that I have behaved badly towards Alice, and I intend to make amends.”
“Get the letter written now, so that you can give it to Alice at lunchtime. You can catch up with your housework another time, obviously not this early evening, as you'll be running.”
I immediately set to work on the letter and, knowing that a lot rested on it being good, worked through several drafts before I was satisfied with the end result. It was 10 AM when I set about my work, fretting over whether the letter would pass scrutiny or whether it could have been improved.
At 12.15, Alice came into the kitchen for her sandwich and coke. I immediately gave her the letter, while, at the same time, giving a genuine, if a little over the top, apology. “I’m sorry about my behaviour last night, Miss. I’m ashamed that I was so negative and so ungrateful towards you. You must have been very upset that I appeared to be rejecting your kindness. Of course, I’ll wear your old school sports kit and I’ll be honoured to join you this evening for a run. And also thank you so much for appealing to your Mum to delay my caning. I didn’t deserve such kindness.”
She smiled in a sincere way, but looked embarrassed. “Get away with you—I don’t believe a word of what you’re saying. I wasn’t born yesterday.” She then read through my letter. “I’m sure Mum put you up to writing this crap, but I’m still very touched. It’s very sweet, so thank you so much.” And with that, for the first time ever, she gave me a peck on the cheek. I felt myself going red.
“But now,” she continued, “I think I’ll test you on the French vocab that you were supposed to have learnt last week. I’m expecting a high mark so it will be five minutes facing the wall with your hands on your head for each incorrect answer.” Normal life for me had returned! Luckily, I’d remembered most of the words so only got four wrong, meaning that I spent just the last twenty minutes of my lunch break staring at the wall.
oooOOooo
I ended my afternoon shift at 5.30 PM, so making up some of the time lost in the morning writing the letter of apology. This gave me just thirty minutes to get dressed for the run. I stripped down to my undies and then pulled the black sports bra over my head and over the top of my day bra. To say the sports bra was a tight fit was an understatement. I felt I was being gripped around the chest by a boa constrictor and I was left pondering how easy it would be to take off when I had finished.
The gym knickers came next, and Alice was right that they were of a generous length and therefore completely covered my white panties. Not that this was much consolation, despite me being told that they were for public viewing while my white knickers weren’t. Also, in spite of having a generous length, the gym knickers were not overly wide, and I could feel the tight elastic digging into my thighs and waist. I knew that I would be left with indentations when I took them off.
Next, I slipped on the skirt that matched the knickers and, with its adjustable waist band, it fitted well around the waist, but my worst fears about length were confirmed. It barely covered my gym knickers. Last to go on was the vest top. I adjusted the shoulders to cover my white bra straps, but I was sure that when I started running, they would immediately become exposed.
After a check on my light make-up to ensure I looked as feminine as possible, I went downstairs and met up with Alice. Naturally, she was more appropriately dressed, wearing tiny running shorts and an opaque sleeved T-shirt that disguised her sports bra. Together we walked the short distance to the park, not encountering anyone on the way. The park, though, was quite busy, with many people taking advantage of the evening sun after a day at work.
“The secret, Julie, is to keep running and never stop,” Alice advised. “That makes it difficult for people to take the second glance needed to confirm you’re not a real woman.” It was good advice and proved to be right. After almost every step, my skirt was flipping up revealing my knickers. While people, especially men, who were strolling around or sitting on park benches were intrigued enough to look in my direction, before they could decide if I was male or female, we were long past. However, it had been a while since I last ran 5k, so it was an exhausting ordeal, and I felt completely wrecked by the end. Alice, being younger and fitter than me, had had to slow her pace to keep level, so she finished hardly out of breath.
“Well done, Julie,” she triumphed. “I knew you could do it and I bet it wasn’t anywhere nearly as bad as you expected. Mum will be really pleased that you overcame your fears.”
This proved to be the first of many twice-weekly runs and gradually I improved my times.
When we got back to the house, Alice was called in to see Helen, who subsequently spoke to me. “For your sake, I’m relieved to say that your apology letter to Alice is acceptable. I wasn’t entirely convinced by its sincerity, but Alice told me she was chuffed that you had written to her. If Alice is happy, then I’m happy. She also told me that you gave a good performance in the 5k, which is excellent. I can therefore confirm that you will not be caned before bed tonight. So, you can relax on that score. Instead, you only have to write out two hundred times, ‘I must always seek the positive in any situation and ignore the negative’. Those lines are due in tomorrow morning, so I suggest you grab a shower now, then we’ll have dinner and then you write your lines. OK?”
“Yes, thank you very much, Ma’am.”
I was grateful that I wasn’t to receive the cane, but the lines constituted a hefty punishment and took me three hours to write. I was late going to bed that night. What a day it had been.
