My sister, Phoebe, and her best friend, Zoe, were having the time of their lives, tormenting and humiliating me, while supposedly keeping me company while Laura was away. They were making up rules as they went along, and it was inevitable that I would fall foul of them. Right now, they had me kneeling, painfully, on a coir doormat, just in my bra and knickers, and gagged with the thong that Zoe had been wearing the day before.

As I knelt, my nose pressed against the wall, they ate their breakfasts at a leisurely pace and then went off, one after the other, to shower. I reckoned the coir fibres must be burrowing into my skin, added to which my shoulders were now aching from keeping my hands on my head. When they eventually came back into the bedroom, they had to get dressed, brush their hair, and apply their make-up—all the things that girls do to make themselves presentable to the world. The whole time, I was knelt there, with my back to them.

I found myself imagining what Zoe must look like when undressed or in her lingerie. I now knew, first hand, what she tasted and smelt like, and I had a good idea what her underwear looked like. My brain went wild thinking about her fit figure, wondering what style and colour of bra and panties she was putting on, and whether they were coordinated. I so wanted to turn around, but I knew that was out of the question. My penis was throbbing and pulsating within the constraints of its cage, and I was sure that precum was dripping into my panties.

After an age, Phoebe addressed me. “Right, slave, turn around and remove Miss Zoe's treat from your mouth. You need to wash her thong, change these sheets and launder the used ones. Then there is the bathroom to clean. We seem to have left it in a bit of a state. When you've done all of that, report to the lounge for more instructions.”

Knowing better than to argue, I staggered to my feet. “Yes, Miss,” I answered.

I could see them both looking down at my reddened knees, which bore what seemed to be hundreds of little pin pricks, as if I had been kneeling on a hedgehog. I sensed that Phoebe was wondering whether they had gone too far, keeping me on the coir mat for so long. Not so Zoe, who looked delighted with the outcome. Neither said anything, and I set about my chores.

oooOOooo

The work took a good while to complete but at last I got it sorted. “I've finished the chores, Miss,” I explained to Phoebe.

“Now we need to find him something else to do—but after we've had lunch,” remarked Zoe to Phoebe, with a sly smile. “But first we put his mittens back on.” Resistance was pointless, so I helpfully held out my arms so that Zoe could buckle the straps of the mittens that would severely limit my dexterity.

“Now sit quietly on the floor with your legs crossed while Miss Phoebe and I have lunch,” explained Zoe. Maybe I gave her a plaintive look, because she felt compelled to add, “Slaves are like pet cats and dogs—they don't need three meals a day. I'll put a bowl of water down on the kitchen floor and you can lap that if you need a drink.” She was revelling in my humiliation.

I sat still on the lounge carpet while my two tormenters made themselves lunch in the kitchen. It seemed ages before they returned but at least I was experiencing some peace. But I did wonder why I was putting up with this treatment. Was I so submissive that I was allowing these two girls to deny me food? Would Laura think it wrong of me to assert myself? I had no idea, but deep down I knew that their dominance over me was pressing the right buttons.

Eventually, they re-entered the lounge. “Slaves don't hang around doing nothing, making the place untidy. Go and pick up the clean underwear that's been cluttering our bedroom,” instructed Phoebe. She was referring to the undies that I had handwashed yesterday, some of which I had had to lay out in the bedroom when I had run out of drying space elsewhere in the flat. Struggling with the mittens, I gathered everything up and added it to the three piles I had formed yesterday—mine, Laura's and the two girls.

“Why is my and Miss Phoebe's stuff all mixed up together, slave? This is not good enough,” Zoe pointed out.

“Sorry, but I... I didn't know who owned what, Miss.”

Zoe sneered, “Well, let's play a game and see if you can work out what's Miss Phoebe's and what's mine!”

“Gosh! That's a good idea! With five minutes corner time for every item he gets wrong,” added my sister.

“Cool!” agreed Zoe. “We'll give him fifteen minutes to sort it out. Starting... now!”

The pair were the same age and looked to have very similar measurements. Both girls seemed to have much the same taste in their choice of lingerie. Sure, some of the garments were slightly racier than others, but what belonged to whom was hard to say. Recalling what I had discovered six years earlier, I decided that Phoebe was the more conservative of the two, but only by a small margin, and, besides, six years is a long time and people change.

I went through the girls' pile, imagining what each item would look like on Zoe, and whether or not it would suit her. It was an arousing business, and I was aware that precum was wetting the front of my panties. It was humiliating, but also strangely exciting and I guessed they knew the effect it was having on me, but no comments were made.

As I progressed, I made two piles, one for Phoebe and one for Zoe, and I was still swapping stuff around when Zoe announced my time was up. I could tell from the smirk on her face that I had made mistakes, and it wasn't long before they were being pointed out.

“These knickers are yours,” Zoe commented to Phoebe.

“And this is your bra,” added Phoebe.

“Your camisole.”

And so it went on. By the end, it had been declared (truthfully or otherwise) that I had misassigned eighteen items. Zoe gleefully told me that was ninety minutes of corner time, the most I had ever had to do.

“Hang on,” exclaimed Phoebe. “There are handcuffs somewhere because Laura used them on him when I was last here.”

“Where are they, slave?” asked Zoe.

“They're in Miss Laura's bedside drawer, but...”

“Quiet!”

“But...”

“Quiet, I said! I won't tell you again!”

Phoebe retrieved the cuffs and, before I could make any further appeals, she had removed my mittens and snapped the cuffs onto my wrists, securing my arms behind my back. I was pushed into the corner. Somehow, I managed to endure the ninety minutes, while the two girls chatted and played cards, with one short interlude while they checked how Eric was doing—they declared themselves satisfied that he was still working hard.

“Gosh! Isn't that the second time he's cleaned that bathroom?” queried Phoebe.

“I told him he had to spend the whole day cleaning, even if that meant cleaning again whatever he had already cleaned and...”

At that moment, an alarm sounded on Phoebe's phone. “Turn around, slave, and come over here. Now, where are the keys kept?”

“I was trying to tell you, Miss, that they're not in the flat. Miss Laura keeps them on a gold chain around her neck.”

Zoe's face looked like thunder. “You fucking idiot,” she hissed. “Why the fucking hell didn't you tell us? For crying out loud, Phoebe! Is he stupid, or what?” She shook her head in disbelief.

“I... I did try to say, Miss.”

“Oh, my God!” declared Phoebe, ignoring what I said. “This means Laura's going to find him in this state. She'll go mental. I'm meant to be keeping him company. You're not even supposed to be here, Zoe.”

She stared at Zoe, willing Zoe to come up with a solution. Instead, very slowly, a smile broke out across Zoe's face. “It's funny, though, isn't it?”

Phoebe paused for a second and then started giggling. “Gosh, I guess so. We'll just have to weather the storm. Slave, if you know what's good for you, you won't drop us in it when your mistress gets home.”

oooOOooo

It was another couple of hours before Laura returned. I was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, wearing just my bra and knickers. Suddenly, my sister commented, “We could put some jeans on him.”

“Why?” asked Zoe.

“So he doesn't look so indecent when Laura gets back. She's likely to blow her top when she sees him looking like this.”

“Hmm... I see what you mean.”

Phoebe got up to find my jeans but, at that very moment, we heard Laura's key in the door.

“Shit!” hissed Phoebe, looking troubled. Zoe just smiled. “Just go and sit in the armchair, slave,” continued Phoebe. “Quickly, you idiot!”

Laura's expression, on entering the lounge, was one of disbelief. “Oh... Oh, God, what's... what's been going on? Why's Stevie half-naked? What... why...?” Laura was clearly overwhelmed by the sight that greeted her. “And... and... who are you?” she added, staring at Zoe.

“This is Zoe, Laura. She's my best friend, who I've told you about. I hope you don't mind her staying. We... er... shared the driving. It's a long way.”

Zoe smiled sweetly at Laura, looking as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. “Oh... hello,” replied Laura, staring backat Zoe.

Laura seemed mesmerised by Zoe, who said nothing but smiled sweetly at my girlfriend. Soon, Laura snapped out of her daydream and, looking at Phoebe, asked, “What have you done to Stevie? Why's he in his underwear? Why are his arms behind his back? ... Don't tell me you've handcuffed him?”

I had said nothing, feeling it best that Phoebe dug deeper into the hole she had created. “We had just been teasing him, Laura, and then he went berserk. He must have thought Zoe fancied him—some chance! As if! He must have misread the signals, and he turned into a sex fiend, Laura. It was like Jekyll and Hyde! He stripped off in front of us. It was frightening for us. I'd underestimated what a handful he would be. You could have warned me this might happen, Laura!”

Laura looked bewildered. “What?! You're saying it's my fault? No way! What have you got to say for yourself, Stevie? Why did you strip off?” she asked, appearing puzzled.

I didn't get a chance to reply, because Phoebe chimed in again. “It's his fault, not yours, Laura. How could we stop him? He's stronger than us.” Zoe vigorously nodded her agreement, whilst maintaining a benign countenance of innocence and saying not a word.

“Say something, Stevie,” Laura urged.

“He's sex mad and an exhibitionist,” continued Phoebe, giving me no chance to speak. “He's always been a pervert, but now he's a sex maniac. He must get off on flashing at women, and the sight of Zoe sent him over the edge.”

“Stevie? Say something, for God's sake,” exclaimed Laura, insistently.

“My sister's right, Miss. I... I shouldn't have got undressed. I'm sorry, Miss. I've... I've let you down.”

“Let me down! That's an understatement. I leave you for a weekend and come back to find you've stripped off in front of two nubile young ladies.” She shook her head in exasperation.

“We couldn't stop him, could we, Zoe?” exclaimed Phoebe, causing Zoe to nod her head again. “And we thought it best to handcuff him in case he lunged at Zoe. He told Zoe he was sexually attracted to her. Ask him!”

“I don't believe you,” claimed Laura. “Don't be so ridiculous!”

“When the cat's away, as they say...”, added Phoebe. “Tell Laura that you told Zoe that you fancied her. You said you were sexually attracted to her, didn't you? Tell the truth, Steve, like Mum taught us to.”

Me tell the truth? How about Phoebe telling the truth? I didn't know what to reply, but I blushed, which probably told Laura more than words could say.

“Well?” demanded Laura, with a grimace.

“I... I didn't mean it like that, Miss,” I tried to explain. “I was just trying to say that I'm not gay, and I'm attracted to girls, not men.”

Laura looked at me with an expression of disgust. “You've disappointed me, Stevie. I told you to behave yourself and this happens. I'm struggling to come to terms with this. When they've gone, you'll be getting twelve strokes of the cane to remind you that you do not strip off your clothes whenever the urge takes you and you do not make advances on other women. I expect you to have some self-control, without having to be handcuffed.”

Laura's face told me that her displeasure was mounting. She was buying into their fabrication, and I was in serious trouble.

A smile, though, had returned to Phoebe's face. Indeed, she had become emboldened. “Can we stop to watch you cane him? Or maybe help you?”

“No, you damn well can't,” blurted Laura. “I'll do it in private. But I'm really sorry for all the trouble he's caused you. I hope you're not too upset?”

“I think we'll survive—just!” declared Phoebe, looking satisfied. “He's a nightmare so it was as well Zoe was here to help me keep him under control.”

“I think you'd best go and face the wall, Stevie, and reflect on the trouble you've caused. I'll make a pot of tea to calm our guests.”

Obediently, I did as she bid. As I turned around, she saw my painted nails. “Oh, my God! You've got false nails on, Stevie. And what a bloody stupid colour to choose!”

“Yeah, he'd put those on before we arrived! God knows what he was thinking but I reckon he ought to be made to keep them on.”

“Too right! He will keep them on.”

The three girls talked for half-an-hour while I faced the wall. Having witnessed my downfall, Zoe was more than willing to join in the conversation and the three chatted about life in general, but not about me. I seemed to have been forgotten.

And then my sister and her friend gathered up their stuff and said their goodbyes to Laura—nothing was said to me as Laura ushered them towards the door.

oooOOooo

As the door closed behind them, I started to feel afraid, very afraid. For me, the cane is the worst possible punishment, yet I was to receive twelve strokes.

“Turn around, Stevie,” Laura ordered, coolly.

“I'm really, really sorry, Miss,” I tried to explain, feeling flustered. “It wasn't like they said. They were making things up and...”

“Shush!” she said, putting a finger on my lips. “I know it wasn't your fault. I'm not going to punish you, but I didn't want them thinking that. If your sister believes you're being punished, it will help you rebuild your relationship with her.”

“Thank you, Miss,” I said, with a sense of relief, despite knowing that nothing Laura pretended to be doing would ever change my sister. “But I'm sorry that I said I fancied Zoe—Miss Zoe. But I didn't do anything! I didn't flirt with her! Honestly, I didn't.”

Laura stared hard at me for several seconds, grim-faced. Then a smile broke out and she said, “Join the club, poppet. I fancy her as well! She's drop-dead gorgeous, in fact. That's biology for you, we can't help being attracted to others, but we must both have self-control, muffin. Stop worrying—you and I are kindred spirits, made for one another.”

A sense of relief washed over me, as she continued, “I've missed you, sweetheart.” She embraced me, our lips met, and her tongue pushed its way into my mouth. Then I sensed she was unbuttoning her jeans, and pulling them down, along with her knickers.

“Before I unlock your cuffs, there's something I need you to do, poppet. It's very urgent.” I set to work...

oooOOooo

Laura had fallen back into the armchair, her legs still akimbo and her vulva glistening from her juices and my saliva. I was still on my knees in front of her.

Still breathless, she asked, “Did you have an exciting weekend, muffin?” She placed emphasis on exciting.

“Er... do you want to know what they did to me, Miss?”

“Not if it means you telling tales, poppet, but I'm guessing they teased you. The first thing I noticed when I saw you were the stains on the front of your knickers. Precum stains! You've been leaking badly. That told me you'd had a good time.”

“I had my moments, Miss,” I truthfully replied.

“And you're still in one piece. No punishment marks, full body hair, no tattoos, no piercings—you look just like you did before I went. They looked after you, muffin.”

“Yes, Miss, in their own way—very much in their own way.”

She gave me a sly grin. “I don't want to know what they did, but it had to be consensual. Don't you agree?”

Laura was right. As traumatic as my weekend had been, I could have put up more resistance, although that did entail the risk of enraging Laura were she to be told I was being obstructive and disobedient. “Yes, Miss, I went along with everything.”

“Even the false nails, eh?” she laughed.

“Yes, Miss, but can we take them off now, please?”

“We need acetone to weaken the glue.”

“Acetone?”

“Yes, acetone! Does our bedroom look like a chemistry lab to you?”

“Er... no, Miss. So, we don't have acetone?”

“No, you'll have to go into uni with those nails on tomorrow and buy a bottle at lunchtime. I'll help you get them off in the evening. No one at university will notice you've got them on.” She suppressed a grin, telling me that even she didn't believe that last statement.

“Did you know that Zoe—Miss Zoe—was coming this weekend, Miss?”

“No, I honestly didn't, poppet. I knew Eric wasn't coming, because Phoebe said he'd be working the whole weekend.” Her expression suggested Laura had no idea what Eric would be doing, and I felt it best not to explain what I knew in case it gave her ideas.

She continued, “But...