The next few days of my new life as a housekeeper at Helen's house were busy, but otherwise uneventful. Helen was at work, and Alice was out with friends for much of the time. I wondered if she told them about me but, if so, there was nothing I could do about it, although I thought Helen wouldn’t approve of such gossip.

I worked my way through the massive house, thoroughly cleaning each room. By Friday, I’d completed the downstairs, plus the upstairs bathrooms and two of the four bedrooms. However, I was starting to think that forty-five hours a week might be insufficient to keep on top of my chores. Each room of the house had to be thoroughly cleaned once a week, but also tidied at least once daily, with spot cleaning as required. This was particularly important for the kitchen and bathrooms, which had to look spotless at all times. On top of this, there was the laundry. Sheets and towels only needed washing once a week, but any dirty items of clothing had to be collected, washed, dried, ironed (if necessary), and returned within twenty-four hours. I found it was best to check the bedrooms twice daily for worn items, otherwise the target would be impossible to meet.

Furthermore, a lot of the items had to be hand-washed, a job which seemed interminable. I got to handle intimate items belonging to the two women in the house, which might sound pleasurable, except that the delicate, soft fabrics, always bearing the scents—natural and unnatural—of their owners, could cause me immense discomfort as my caged penis struggled to expand into a non-existent space.

Wednesday was shopping day, when I had to go out to buy the week’s groceries, but more about that later. The straw that I thought could break the camel’s back was the gardening role. Being summer, the grass and hedges were growing fast and needed frequent attention. Luckily, I suppose, Helen was a keen gardener, so she took care of the less strenuous, yet time-consuming aspects of gardening, such as planting and weeding, while I “only” had to do the grass, hedge cutting, and general tidying.

On Friday, Helen was at work, but Alice was at home and decided to torment me again at lunchtime. As she requested, I gave her a sandwich and a Coke, and I waited to see if I would be sent into the corner. She read my mind. “No corner time for you today, Julie," she smiled. She paused, waiting for me to relax, before adding, “But I think you should try out the naughty stool.”

What I hadn’t noticed was that she had brought into the kitchen a child’s stool, which was barely nine inches tall. As if to confirm what it was for, painted across the top, in large letters, were the words “Naughty Stool”.

“Go and sit on this stool, facing away from me,” she commanded.

“Do I really have to, Alice... sorry, Miss?” I asked, knowing what the answer would be.

“Oh, for goodness' sake, just do as you’re told and stop moaning. Or would you rather I put you over my knees and spank your bum? Eh, Julie?”

“Oh, God, no..., not that, Miss, please." Whilst the humiliating thought of being spanked by such an attractive young girl was causing my penis to harden inside its cage, I knew that it was not a good idea and could lead to me getting into trouble with Helen.

Alice gazed at me, gauging my reaction to her suggestion. With an element of disappointment when I didn't take up her offer, she continued, “Then stop arguing, and sit on the stool. You know you’re going to end up there anyway, so the sooner you get there, the sooner we have a little talk, and the sooner you can get off. OK?”

I wondered whether to keep arguing to save face, but, spanked or not, it was a certainty that I would end up on the stool, just as had happened on Monday when she told me to stand in the corner. This was going to be degrading, but I gave in and lowered myself onto the low platform.

It was terribly uncomfortable, and my knees were bent at an awkward angle. However, the discomfort did nothing to censor my erotic thoughts, and my penis had swollen to the limits of its prison.

“Let's make it a rule for the naughty stool that you sit there for one minute for every year of your age. That seems fair, Julie, because the older you are, the better your behaviour should be. So, you will have to sit there for thirty-seven minutes, and I’m timing you with my phone!”

It was pointless for me to object, so I sat in silence. Being silent, though, did not satisfy Alice.

“Say something, Julie. What do you think of the naughty stool? You need to sit very still, with no fidgeting, or I will extend the time.”

“I don’t like it, Miss, it’s uncomfortable. And it’s humiliating.”

“Oh, so it’s the humiliation thing again. That’s interesting—very interesting!”

“Well, it seems unfair to make me sit on here, when I’ve not done anything wrong.”

“Stop complaining all the time. I never said you’d done anything wrong. This is just so you know what it’s like on the naughty stool. This might stop any thoughts you have of misbehaving. If I have to punish you, I might change the rule and make it two minutes for each year—that might teach you a tougher lesson. And imagine what it would be like sitting there on a spanked bum, all red and glowing.”

I sensed the delight in her voice, and she was playing with my mind. “I hope to goodness that won’t be necessary, Miss,” I replied. Part of me found the thought of her spanking me very arousing, whilst the more rational part of my brain knew that if she had inherited her mother's spanking talents, it would prove very painful.

“You say it’s unfair. Are you going to whine to Mum that I’m being nasty to you?” she giggled, adding, “Don’t waste your time, because she knows what I’m like.”

“I wouldn’t tell tales, anyway,” I assured her.

“You don’t mind me taking a picture, do you?” she asked, while standing up from her chair.

Before I could voice an opinion, several photos had been taken, front and back views.

“What... what do you plan to do with the photos?” I asked, the concern in my voice causing it to wobble.

Alice laughed, “Whatever I want!”

She was behind me now, but I detected she was looking at the images on her phone. “You know, you do look quite feminine in these shots. But wearing a white bra under a thin white shirt is not your best move, Julie. If you want to disguise your bra, you need to buy a skin-coloured one. The alternative is to make it obvious you don’t care who sees your bra by choosing a dark colour. White-on-white is neither here nor there, and is so old-fashioned. Why the hell did you buy white?”

“Your Mum told me to and...,” I was interrupted by peals of laughter.

“Wow! Oh my God! My mum tells you what colour underwear to buy. I don’t believe it! This is getting better by the day. She gave up years ago, telling me what colour to wear.”

I kept quiet, getting concerned about the direction of the conversation. Helen did not want her daughter to discover the details of my submissive relationship.

She moved positions, so that she was facing me. “I love that your T-shirt has your name on it—Julie, Housekeeping. That must be so humiliating." She smiled, watching me squirm. "You know that was my idea, don't you?”

“Yes, Miss, your mother told me.”

Alice laughed, “If you're really into transitioning to become a woman, then you wouldn't mind. But the expression on your face says otherwise.” She fixed me with a stare, waiting for me to say something.

“I find it disconcerting, Miss,” I said, hastily adding, “But I'm not complaining. I accept the rule that I must wear clothing carrying my new name.”

“That's a good girl, Julie!”, she replied in a condescending tone of voice. “But why do you want to change gender and become a woman?”

I was getting increasingly uncomfortable with this line of questioning, but I knew I had to say something. “I’m not sure I really do, but unless I try it out, I’ll never know,” I lied.

“That’s pretty vague... and unconvincing! But what do you think is better about being a woman?”

I paused to phrase my answer in the best way I could. “I love the clothes that women wear, especially the lingerie. Unlike men, women have lots of different items of underwear, and it’s all so much prettier than the boxers men wear.” My reply was truthful, but I was far from feeling relaxed, dressed as I was, in Alice’s presence.

“Hmm! Last time you didn’t seem interested in women’s clothes. You’re not making any sense. But there are a lot of negatives with being a woman. It’s not all sexy undies!”

“I’m sure you’re right, Miss.”

“But I’m convinced you’ve not told me the real reason why you dress up as a woman. There is something you’re hiding from me, and I’m guessing it’s linked to this humiliation thingy that you keep mentioning.”

She was not far from the truth, and I was getting worried.

“Did you know, Julie, that I want to be a psychologist? I’ve done it at A-level, and I will be studying it at university. I like finding out what makes people tick. In your case, I don’t think you’re at ease dressed as a woman, but you have a need to be made to do so. Am I getting close to the truth?”

“Possibly, Miss, but I really can’t talk about it. Sorry.”

“Hmm!” She changed direction a little. “To prove I’m not a total bitch, would you like me to show you how to apply make-up? It would make you more passable as a woman.”

Following my previous conversation with Helen about the merits of making myself look more feminine, I graciously accepted the offer, hoping that Alice wasn’t planning some cruel trick.

“Fantastic!” she said, “We’ll do it this evening, after dinner.”

“Thank you, Miss!”

Alice returned to her seat and was quiet for a while, as she ate her lunch, and I sat still, but uncomfortably, on the naughty stool. Then she opened the conversation again, and asked me about my first supermarket shop on Wednesday, dressed in my uniform. “Spare nothing,” she implored, “I want to know every gory detail.”

I was happy to oblige, as I’d not spoken to Helen about the trip, and I felt the need to unburden myself to someone, even Alice. “Hmm…, well, I slept badly on Tuesday night because I was terrified of going out in public in my uniform. I was tossing and turning all night, and so I was up and dressed by five. This was good, as I had made the decision to go to the supermarket early, and I left home as soon as your Mum had gone to work. Getting there by eight meant I might beat the crowds, and that proved to be correct.”

I paused to let her absorb what I was saying. “But another consideration was that this would be the coolest part of the day, so I was able to wear a fleece over my T-shirt, which concealed my bra and breasts. Of course, there were other things I was worried about, such as the pink socks and trainers, and the large gap of exposed skin between my socks and trousers, but I couldn’t really do much about those, so I just had to grin and bear it.”

“And were people staring at you?” Alice interrupted, excitedly. “I hope so,” she sniggered.

“I’m sure they were, but I just put my head down and worked through the shopping list that your Mum had given me. I tried to avoid eye contact with other shoppers. It didn’t help that I was unfamiliar with the layout of the store, so I kept having to double back on myself. I must have gone around the whole supermarket at least twice trying to locate obscure items.”

“And what happened at the checkout?” I sensed she was hoping that some major embarrassment had befallen me.

“I took the same attitude of avoiding eye contact with the assistant. I grunted, "Hello," without looking at her, but I felt guilty about doing that because it seemed very rude. But it was just a coping mechanism.”

“You’re right that you were rude, and I’m sure Mum would be angry with you for being rude. In fact, maybe I should punish you for being rude, hmm?” She stopped to let it sink in what she had said. I held my breath, hoping she was just taunting me. I felt relieved when she carried on. “But I can see what you mean, Julie. It must have been difficult for you, so well done—and I mean that!”

This was a different, more considerate side of Alice, which I thought should be encouraged. “Thank you very much, Miss. It means a lot to me to hear you say something nice like that. But, regrettably, the shopping trip was not a complete triumph, because your Mum later discovered that I had missed two items from the list. She was not pleased, so I got punished.”

“What!! I really can’t believe she has so much power over you as to punish you for something so trivial.” And then she stopped to think for a few moments. “On the other hand, I’m seeing for myself how compliant you are, such as sitting on that stool. I reckon it doesn’t matter what I order you to do; you’ll end up doing it. I guess it’s easy to punish people if you know they won’t put up a fight. Anyhow, what was your punishment?”

“I had to write a long sentence out, twenty-five times. I can’t remember the exact words, but it was something like, ‘When I next visit the supermarket, I must pay far less attention to my appearance and far more attention to what is on the shopping list.’ My lines are pinned to the fridge behind you.”

Alice laughed and walked over to the refrigerator. “We’re going to need a bigger fridge because Mum loves setting lines. I've had to do them, so I know how monotonous and time-wasting they are. It’s so easy to start daydreaming and then a mistake gets made, which means they have to be done again. That’s a long sentence you had to write out, so bad luck!”

“Yes, it took me nearly an hour to do and I had to write them when I was off duty, so it used up what would have been my free time.”

“That’s tough, but get used to it! Mum likes lines because she says that the constant repetition drums home a message which is not easily forgotten. Like how you spell troglodyte!” She giggled, recalling my punishment after the zoo visit.

“Well, I’ve learnt a lesson, and next time I will double and treble check that everything on the list is in the shopping trolley,” I replied.

I was starting to relax a little in Alice’s presence. Possibly, she wasn’t the ogre I first thought. At that point, the alarm on her phone started to ring to confirm that my thirty-seven minutes on the stool were complete. Feeling very stiff, I levered myself up and graciously thanked Alice for introducing me to the naughty stool. “My sarcasm detector has gone into overdrive,” she chortled.

After dinner, she was true to her word and gave me a lesson in applying make-up—I was genuinely impressed with the result. Any misgivings I had that she might make me look ridiculous, or like a drag artist or slapper, were misplaced and I hoped to learn to do this myself, as it would be a big boost to my confidence when out in public.

oooOOooo

The next day was Saturday, so I had the afternoon off. Helen was home, but Alice was away for most of the time.

“Julie,” announced Helen, “Saturday afternoons are when I will usually check up on you and carry out your weekly appraisal. So go up to my bedroom, strip down to your undies, and adopt the inspection position. I’ll be up when I’ve had a look around the house at what you’ve been up to.”

It was half an hour before Helen entered her bedroom, meaning that she must have been thorough in checking the standard of my housework. I was standing in the specified position, which meant feet a shoulder-width apart and my hands flat on the top of my head. Helen had previously explained that this pose made it easier for her to check I was hairless, including under my arms.

She looked at me carefully, walking around the back and gently running her fingers along my skin. Then she pulled on the waistband of my knickers, first at the front and then the back, checking for stubble and that my cage was securely in place and had not been tampered with. Next, she tugged at my bra straps to ensure all was in order up there. It was very humiliating to be scrutinised this closely, but her intimate touching, along with her warm breath on my skin and the wafting of her perfume into my nasal passages, caused my penis to stir from its slumbers. Soon, it was throbbing, and I struggled to stay still.

Helen must have realised I was in discomfort, but chose to ignore my predicament, instead giving me her assessment of my grooming habits. “Hmm, you’re not doing too bad for a beginner, but, for a male, you’re leaving it too long between hair removal treatments. It’s hard work being a woman, and you should expect it to take you a good hour to get ready in the mornings. You may need to wake up earlier. I liked the make-up that Alice gave you yesterday, and I expect to see you put cosmetics on every day, not just shopping days. I’m also happy to tell you that Alice is giving me favourable reports about your conduct, and she says you have accepted that she’s in charge when I’m not around.”

“Thank you, Ma’am, I’ve learnt to do what Alice says,” I replied, thankful that Alice had not mentioned the fruitless efforts I had made to resist her authority.

“I’m not surprised,” Helen chuckled. “But you are wearing a plain white bra with bright red lacy knickers! Why, for goodness’ sake? You need to coordinate your underwear. A plain white bra is worn with plain white knickers. If you want to wear red knickers, then you can do so off-duty, but you’ll need to buy yourself a red bra from your weekly allowance. It’s just common sense, really, which you’re sometimes lacking.”

“Sorry, Ma’am. I will buy more plain white knickers when I next go shopping. I’m not keen to buy a red bra, though.”

I then noticed she was looking again at my panties. My penis had tumesced to the full extent that my cage allowed, and I was conscious that it was now lubricating itself.

Helen had noticed the same. “I can see a wet spot, which I’m guessing is pre-cum. That’s an unpleasant sight, so you need to wear pantyliners in future to catch any secretions. I’ll give you some liners to start with and then you can buy more on Wednesday.” At the thought of this, I felt my knees start to buckle and it took some effort to maintain my pose. How much more humiliating could this become?

I had to say something. “I’m getting very frustrated, Ma’am, sexually frustrated, I mean.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are, but frustration helps to keep you obedient. You will have to wait a while for relief, and asking for it will only delay it. I hope that’s understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, realising that it was foolish to pursue this point further.

“Now, I’ve been all around the house, and I’m generally pleased with the standards of your work. Have you found it tough?”

“Very tough, Ma’am. I didn’t expect to get everything done in the time.”

“To be frank, there are a few things you’ve not done, such as not cutting the grass a second time, despite it needing a further trim because of the recent warm weather. I should punish you for that and for not yet changing your own bed linen, but as this is your first week, I’ll make allowances. I’m confident that you will improve as you get more into the swing of things. You need to work smart, as well as hard.”

“Thank you, Ma’am, I hope to do better.” I was relieved that my first review was over, but I recognised that my new life was not going to be easy. My appraisal had been sexually arousing, and I yearned to be released from the constraints of my chastity cage to enjoy an unrestricted erection. Yet, I knew I must wait.

“That’s a good girl, Julie—that’s what I want to hear.” I felt strangely pleased to hear her compliment me and my penis gave another painful throb. “Get dressed, you look ridiculous!” she smiled.