The weeks were flying by, and Laura and I had settled into our respective roles in a female-led relationship. I had learnt what I had to do to please Laura and to meet her expectations, whatever those were. In return for my obedience, she generously rewarded me in ways that gave me blissful sexual relief, but never so excessively that I lost the urge to serve and obey her.

A particularly bright star above our little world was that I had not seen my sister since she had helped cane me. I knew she and Laura often spoke on the phone, and had formed a bond, but there had been no more face-to-face meetings. It helped, obviously, that Phoebe lived on the other side of the country, and travelling was time-consuming and expensive. So, it came as a bombshell when Laura and I were driving back from university one Thursday evening and she said she had something to tell me.

“I forgot to mention I'm away on a field course this weekend, muffin. I go on Saturday morning and come back Sunday evening.”

“Oh, that sounds nice for you, but I'll miss you, Miss.”

“I'll miss you, muffin. Will you get lonely?”

“I think I'll manage, Miss,” I laughed.

“Haha! You won't have to, because I've invited your sister to babysit you while I'm away.”

“What!” I spluttered, nearly losing control of the car. “What do you mean, babysit me?”

“Sorry, poppet! Completely the wrong word! I mean, keep you company and... well, look after you.”

“I... I can look after myself, Miss.”

“I'm sure you can, sweetheart, but some company would be nice. And you can continue building bridges with Phoebe. She always asks about you when we speak on the phone. You should call her sometime.”

“Hmm... the experience of her caning me is still lingering in my memory, Miss. Calling her would reawaken them.”

“But that's over and done with. You have a clean slate.”

I was far from convinced. “I don't have to call her Miss Phoebe, do I, Miss?”

“No, of course not, you silly boy. That was just for dramatic effect while you were being punished that day. Phoebe will have moved on. You've nothing to worry about.”

“That's a relief,” I remarked, although I was not at all sure that my sister would see it that way. “But Eric won't be coming, will he?”

“Her fiancé? I don't know. Do you want him to come, so you've got some male company?”

“No, Miss, I don't!”

Laura tittered, “Hmm... I think you're curious to know whether you and he share anything in common, like a similar taste in underwear.”

She was right, I was interested to know whether Phoebe had somehow forced Eric into wearing panties—and a chastity cage. When we had last met—the day of my caning—Phoebe had been struck by my feminised appearance and my chastity device. I had since wondered if she had been toying with the idea of enticing Eric into a similar, female-led relationship.

In a way, it would be good to discover I wasn't the only man trapped like that. Yet were it to turn out that he was an alpha male who had refused, point blank, to agree with such an idea, then I would die of embarrassment if he were to learn my secret. But maybe he knew already, because Phoebe had told him! No, it was not a good idea for Eric to come!

“You've gone very quiet, poppet,” commented Laura.

“Just thinking, Miss.”

oooOOooo

Saturday morning soon came, and Laura needed to leave by eight, but Phoebe wasn't arriving until after nine, having to drive for two or three hours to get here. Laura was in a happy mood. We kissed, and she even allowed me to “cop a feel”, as she put it, meaning I was allowed to slide a hand up inside her shirt and fondle her firm, warm breasts while we snogged.

Then she had some final words of advice for me. “Now, muffin, I expect you to be welcoming and accommodating towards your sister. She's a guest in our flat, so if that means going the extra mile to make her feel at home, I expect you to do it. I know she might tease you, but that's what older sisters do to their brothers—remind me one day to tell you what I got up to with my brother!” She paused for a few seconds, recollecting something, and sniggered. “But he forgave me! Take things in your stride, poppet, and don't make a big fuss if she tries to wind you up. Just don't let me down, understood?”

“Yes, Miss, I won't let you down.” Even as I said it, I had butterflies in my stomach. I sensed that “tease” and “wind-up” were understatements of what I might have to endure.

oooOOooo

And then Laura was gone, and I was left alone waiting for my sister to arrive. Phoebe was three years older than me and even before the unfortunate incident with her underwear, she had never let me forget that I was her inferior.

At 9.30 the doorbell rang. I went straight to the door and looked through the spyhole. My worst nightmare—or so I thought—would be to see that Phoebe was standing there with Eric. But what I saw was far, far worse—standing next to Phoebe was a beautiful young woman I had not seen for six years, but whom I instantly recognised. It was Zoe, Phoebe's best friend, and gorgeous and attractive though she was, she had been the one who, all those years ago, had been the instigator of my punishment, suggesting I be made to wear Phoebe's old school uniform.

I nervously opened the door. Phoebe looked po-faced, but Zoe was unable to conceal her delight at seeing me. “Hello, Stephanie,” she cooed, “It's been ages, but Phoebe's kept me up to date. She's told me all about the last time she came to see you!” She giggled. I was lost for words, but Zoe hadn't finished. “I've got a fleece like that,” she sarcastically remarked, pointing at my pink garment.

“Yes, but it looks far better on you, Zoe,” commented Phoebe, sombrely. Turning to me, she added, “You and I have unfinished business, don't we?”

“Er... do we?”

“You don't think your caning made up for the six years of hell you've put me through, do you?” She had to be exaggerating, but I had to tread carefully.

“Laura said we could put that behind us. I was punished for what I did. Laura said I now have a clean slate and you and I should repair our relationship, like grown-ups.”

“Oh, did she? Well, she's not the one who's had to suffer years of torment, knowing her brother was a pervert. And you must know it's Miss Laura, not Laura!”

I could see where this conversation was going, but I still decided to test the water. “Sorry, Phoebe.”

The glare I received told me what I needed to know. Dare I provoke my sister by playing dumb? Maybe I should call her bluff? But she continued to glare at me, almost penetrating me with her icy cold eyes. “I'm waiting! You're testing my patience, Stephanie.”

“Er...sorry, Miss Phoebe.” I didn't need to ask how I should address her friend, and the smug expression on Zoe's face confirmed it.

“Aren't you going to say good morning to me, Stephanie?” Zoe asked, with a wide-eyed, innocent expression. She was so very pretty, even more so than six years previously. Of course, I had given my heart to Laura, and nothing would change that, but Zoe still set my pulse racing, as it would do any man's. What's more, she seemed very aware of her sex appeal.

“For crying out loud, put your eyes back in their sockets and say good morning,” cursed my sister.

“Sorry... Good morning, er... Miss Zoe.” She beamed back a big smile, one of sheer pleasure. Phoebe and Zoe had won the first battle, and it had taken less than five minutes.

Phoebe passed me two large carrier bags that she had been holding. I wasn't sure what was in the bags, because Zoe was holding two small cases. In total, the pair had four bags for a one-night stay.

oooOOooo

With both of them inside the flat, I shut the door.

“We're going to make your life a misery this weekend, Stephanie,” explained my sister, ominously. “You'll remember these two days for a long, long time.”

Her words sent a shiver down my spine, thinking about what she might have in mind. She saw the frightened expression on my face and returned a faint smile, satisfied her words were having the desired effect. “Make us both coffees, and then you can get on with our laundry.”

Laundry? I must have looked baffled because Phoebe felt it necessary to elaborate. She pointed at the two carrier bags I was holding. “I know from last time I came that Saturday is the day you do the laundry, so you can do ours as well.”

This was the last straw. I had to say something. “I can't do all this, er... Miss Phoebe. It's... it's too much and, anyway, we don't have the drying space.”

“When the hell do you think we have time to do it?” screeched Zoe, who had dropped her sweet smile. “We're stuck here, babysitting you, when we could be at home.” She looked riled, and I could tell that she had not come along as a passive observer—she was intent on aiding my sister to deliver whatever humiliation she had planned.

“I didn't ask to be... er... looked after, Miss,” I tried to explain. I could have added that even if I had, the invitation had only been extended to my sister, not her friend. But I knew that to venture down that avenue was to court serious trouble.

“Give me strength!” shrilled Phoebe. “Those aren't the decisions you take, you imbecile.”

“No, Stephanie, your mistress decides if you need babysitting,” added Zoe, enthusiastically. “She didn't trust you to be on your own. I wouldn't either, after what you did to Miss Phoebe, trawling through her underwear drawer, looking for things to wear and jack off into.”

“But that was six years ago,” I protested.

“So?” asked Zoe. “Once a pervert, always a pervert. You can't be left alone in a girl's flat. You need close supervision.”

“But...” I began.

“No buts! In return for us babysitting you, it's only fair you do something for us, Stephanie,” explained my sister. “You do Miss Laura's laundry, so you can do ours. Okay?”

“But I'm not a skivvy, doing all the menial work,” I argued. “Miss Laura and I enjoy a relationship where we both contribute something. I'm not her slave, and I'm not your slave.”

Using the word “slave” was a mistake that I instantly regretted. Both girls' eyes lit up as they processed the implications of the word.

Zoe was the first to respond. She snorted. “Ooooh! Just listen to him! You are her slave, you idiot. Your so-called relationship puts her very much in charge. And while she's not here, you'll do as we say. You're our slave! A slave who is not even fit to lick the bottom of our shoes. Tell me what you are!”

She was painting me into a corner, and I couldn't see any way out other than to agree. “Er... I'm... I'm your slave, Miss,” I uttered.

“And what are you not fit to do?” she bawled.

“Er... lick the bottom of your shoes, Miss.”

A grin crossed Zoe's face. Her day was going better than she could have dreamed it would, but I could not say the same. She was on a roll, and I could see the excitement in her eyes.

My sister picked up the assault. “So, are you going to do our laundry, slave, or would you rather I phone your mistress and explain that you're being disobedient? What do you think your mistress would say, slave? Especially if I were to tell her that you find my best friend sexually attractive, and you can't take your eyes off her.”

Did Laura know that Zoe was here? She had not mentioned it, but there may have been a good reason for that. I had no idea what Laura might say, but quite possibly she would be angry that I had found Zoe to be sexually appealing. And she had specifically warned me not to let her down. I was supposed to be welcoming and accommodating towards my sister, to make her feel at home. Yet here I was, raising complaints within ten minutes of her arriving. Besides, Laura may well have had an inkling—if not more than an inkling—of what was in store for me this weekend. Therefore, Laura finding out that I was not cooperating with Phoebe—and Zoe—might not work out well for me.

“Sorry, Miss. I'll do the laundry,” I said, accepting defeat.

“Gooood slave girl!” gasped Zoe, in a condescending manner. “I knew you'd see it our way—it's a pity it took so long. We need to think of some way of punishing you for your disobedience and insolence.”

The two girls turned their back on me and conversed in loud whispers. “You said the cane worked well last time, Phoebe.”

“Yes, it did, and it was fun, but Laura might not approve of us marking him. We will need some other way of making him suffer,” decided Phoebe.

“I could spank him,” suggested Zoe. “That wouldn't leave stripes!”

“Don't you think he might enjoy that, Zoe? Going over your knees? Can't you see how turned on he is by you? He can't take his eyes off you.”

Zoe turned her head to glance at me and I tried, unsuccessfully, to avert my eyes. “Hmm... you might be right,” she sniggered, giving me a lascivious smirk. I felt my penis give a strong twitch, but I knew she was only trying to taunt me.

Phoebe swivelled around to face me. “Slave, you might wish to think of some ideas for punishment while you're doing the handwashing. Now get on, but first make us some coffee, you lazy girl.”

oooOOooo

I made the coffee, and then set about doing the mountain of laundry. As I emptied the two bags, I felt a tingle of excitement inside my cage at what I was seeing. I would be washing not just Phoebe's undies, but Zoe's as well, but which was which I couldn't determine. The two young ladies were of the same age and similar size, so quite likely wore similar lingerie. In a brief moment of madness, I thought perhaps sniffing the items might allow me to differentiate them so I could make two piles, and the mere thought caused my penis to pulsate painfully. Then I remembered Zoe's harsh words about me being a pervert, searching through Phoebe's underwear collection. Handwashing the pair's lingerie had to be a trap, and one I mustn't fall into by misbehaving.

Then my thoughts were interrupted as the two girls came through to the utility room. “We don't want you getting that lovely pink fleece wet, slave, nor those cute jeans, so strip down to your undies,” instructed Zoe.

I stared at her, trying to be defiant without it seeming too obvious. “Go on... what are you waiting for? You know I've seen you in your undies before,” she continued.

I didn't know what to say, and I quickly glanced in Phoebe's direction. “I've seen it all as well, slave, so get undressed.”

“We're all girls together,” giggled Zoe.

Reluctantly, I got undressed, revealing my lacy mauve bra and colour-coordinated knickers. I went red as the two girls, fully clothed, revealing nothing, eyed me up and down in unnecessary detail.

“Uh!” remarked Zoe. “He's very hairy. I don't like that.”

“Gosh, neither do I,” agreed Phoebe, “but it seems to be what Laura wants.”

“Why?”

“Golly, good question, Zoe. It's something to do with not trying to pass him off as a woman, but just as a man dressed as a woman. Is that right, slave?”

“Something like that, Miss,” I concurred.

“But why? Tell us why.” Zoe stared at me, demanding further information.

“Hmm... it's to nip in the bud any macho tendencies I might have, Miss.”

Both girls looked at me incredulously, and then, simultaneously, a smile spread across their faces and then they were creased up with laughter. “You?!! Macho tendencies?!” screeched Phoebe. “Pull the other one!” They both shook their heads in disbelief. “He's deluded!” concluded my sister, between snorts.

Composing herself, Phoebe instructed me to lower my panties so that Zoe could see my cage. Zoe couldn't take her eyes off it. “My God, it's so small.”

“It doesn't need to be very big,” mocked Phoebe.

“Hmm... I recall he looked pretty big when we got him dressed in your school panties, Phoebe. He was almost popping out the top.”

“No, I reckon it was the panties that were small, so everything looked big in comparison,” laughed my sister. “Smaller is better when it comes to cages. There's no point allowing men to become partially stiff if they can't do anything with their erection. It's cruel to give them hope. Isn't that right, slave?”

“Er... yes, Miss,” I quietly replied, red-faced.

“We'd best leave him to his laundry work, but I have a little safety measure.” I saw that in Phoebe's hand she had a nose clip of the type worn by swimmers. “We don't want him getting off by sniffing our underwear, so he'll put this on. If it keeps water out, it should also keep smells out.” Zoe nodded in agreement.

It must have been designed for a child, because it was a tight fit and painful to wear. Breathing through my nose was now impossible and I could only speak with a strong nasal accent, which seemed to amuse the pair of them.

I set upon the task I had been set. As well as Phoebe and Zoe's underwear, I also had mine and Laura's to do, so the job was a mammoth one. I was sure that the two girls had each brought more than a week's worth of underclothes, and one or both of them had sometimes left pantiliners in place, which I gingerly had to remove and dispose of.

It seemed to take hours and, after washing...