Caroline surprised me with a warm hug when she returned from Mrs. Crawford’s ‘tea-party’.

“The ladies thought you were such a good sport, Peter. And those curtseys! Wow, I could get used to that!” she laughed, “Here, Mrs. Crawford sent you a small keepsake.”

Caroline handed me the apron I had worn to the ‘event’. “I was thinking that it would be so sexy if you were to wear it here, at home when you ‘serve’ me in the evenings.”

I blushed, but answered, “Yes, Mommy.”

“Excellent, Peter, I see you are learning! Now, my panties are so wet, I think we’d better get you in position for a nice long worship session, under my dress.”

Grateful that things had resumed some kind of normality, I went to work on her satin-covered pussy, with relief and devotion.

For the next few weeks, life continued in a relatively predictable way, with a heavy workload next door, by day, and regular ‘servicing’ of my wife at night. In the meantime, I had ordered the deluxe ‘Queening’ stool, aided by the cash from Mrs. Crawford.

One Saturday morning, Caroline came down late to breakfast. “I’ve been thinking, Peter; with all my new clothes and shoes, I desperately need more wardrobe space. The spare room would be ideal. We could clear it out and turn it into my walk-in closet and dressing room.”

“But, err, Mommy, erm, that’s where I sleep,” I pointed out.

“Yes, well, I’ve thought of that, and we’ll simply have to find you somewhere else to bed down. There’s a big space under the hall stairs that we only use to store the hoover and ironing board. You could clear it out and put a camp-bed in there.”

I looked aghast! “You can’t be serious, Mommy. It’s way too small and there’s no heating in there!”

“I am very serious, Peter. Now, I do hope you aren’t going to disappoint me with your attitude. I have made my decision. I want you out of the spare room today, and into your new ‘home’. Do I make myself clear?”

My head slumped in defeat, “Yes, Mommy.”

After a long day of shifting and fixing, that evening I was preparing to sleep for the first time in what was little more than a cupboard, in which I could do little more than crouch.

“Oh, by the way, Peter, I found this shopping bag in the spare room. These items certainly aren’t mine. Special souvenirs, are they?”. With that, she emptied the contents onto my camp-bed. “Enjoy!” and, laughing, she made her way upstairs for the night.

Oh, God. The last shred of any remaining self-respect seemed to disappear at that moment. I cringed in bed that night, but despite all the degrading events of recent weeks, couldn’t help myself. I reached over and picked up a pair of Jennifer’s worn panties and, to my shame, wanked off with them.

I must have fallen into a very deep sleep immediately afterward. Next morning, I was rudely woken from my slumbers by the door of my ‘cupboard’ being flung open.

“So, Jennifer, this is where Peter sleeps now.”

I blinked in the light and saw my wife and our neighbour peering in at me. As though my humiliation couldn’t sink any lower, I was lying there with a pair of Jennifer’s panties wrapped around my penis, soaked in dried sperm.

“Those look familiar to me,” said Jennifer. “Morning, Peter,” she smirked.

Caroline cut in, “We’re going up to London, shopping, Peter. For god’s sake, get out of that stinking pit and make yourself useful!”

With that, she closed my door and I heard them drive off soon after.

That afternoon, a delivery van turned up with a large parcel. I signed for it and quickly went inside to open it. Of course, it was the ‘Queening’ stool. After I had dusted and hoovered throughout the house, I placed the stool in a prominent position in the lounge, then waited for Caroline’s return.

As soon as she saw it, she wanted to try it out.

“Wow, Peter, you have excelled yourself!” she said excitedly, “It looks like a mobile toilet. Just the thing for a dirty boy. Let’s get you stripped and inside there!”

Following her instructions, the padded latex lid was lifted, and I lay (naked except for my frilly apron) on my back, while Caroline fastened it down and locked it over my head. She then placed my wrists into the attached cuffs and proceeded to pump up an air cushion, under my head, so that my face was pressed tightly under the seat, but with just enough space for me to breathe when in position. I was well and truly trapped and ready for use!

Caroline looked down at me and gently caressed my face. “This is going to be so much fun, Peter!”

With that, in full view, she removed her skirt, and unusually, her panties. She stood above me in her white chiffon blouse, black lace suspender belt, sleek, fully-fashioned tan nylon stockings and brown leather high-heels. Jeez, she looked amazing. Then she slowly lowered herself into position on the Queening-seat, ensuring that her rose-bud was directly over my lips.

“Lick, Peter – show me how much you adore me!”

I didn’t need another invitation, extended my tongue, and slowly worshiped her soft buttocks and anus with soft, wet strokes.

Caroline observed my growing erection tenting my transparent frilly apron. “I can see you really like this, Peter. Perhaps I’ll allow you to masturbate next time!”

I spent almost an hour beneath her bottom before she decided she’d had enough.

I then made us a light meal. Caroline insisted that I eat mine, out of sight, in the cupboard. I was beginning to feel like some kind of domestic appliance!