My sister, Phoebe, and her friend, Zoe, were looking after me for the weekend—babysitting they called it. They were both intent on humiliating me and making me suffer, allegedly for my crime six years earlier of searching through Phoebe's underwear drawer. I say allegedly because I now think Phoebe, assisted with unbridled enthusiasm by Zoe, simply enjoys the power she has over me. Both girls become visibly excited when t...

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...

Laura had already embarrassed me in front of my sister, not only making me strip to my underwear and showing her my chastity device, but also explaining to Phoebe the rationale for making men wear female undies and denying them sex. Yet I knew that this was only the start of a morning of intense humiliation for me. Laura was determined that I should be thoroughly punished for what I did to my sister six years ago, and Pho...

It was after dinner one evening that events took a devastating turn. Laura and I were sitting, side-by-side, watching television, when my phone rang. The caller display read “Phoebe”. It was my sister! Instinctively, I panicked and declined the call. “Who was that, poppet?” asked Laura, innocently. “Er... nobody, Miss,” I replied, feeling my cheeks flush. My reply had alerted Laura's sixth sense. “What do you mean by that...

I was instructed to report back to Laura's flat the next morning, which was Sunday. After another restless night, I showered and then got dressed, putting on a pair of knickers. Despite my nervousness, my penis started to become excited inside its cage. My mind flitted back to a time when I was sixteen and my sister, Phoebe, had caught me in her room, rifling through her underwear collection. I had been drawn there by cur...

With my bottom still throbbing from my recent caning, I returned to my own flat for the night. Lying alone in bed, on my stomach for comfort, I replayed the events of the day. What had been intended as a friendly and romantic gesture, laying a hand on Laura's shoulder, had backfired. I had misjudged the situation and had paid the price with three strokes of the cane. The irony is that she had been right about my motives w...

Mid-1990s I found myself in an unfortunate situation. I had married young, and it had gone very bad. I could not bring myself to tell my minister father that I was getting a divorce. So, I found myself without a place to stay, and pretty much just the clothes on my back. However, I knew a couple of guys, Brandon and Mark, who were starting a video editing business. It was low-budget, so instead of a proper office, they ha...

Our next date marked a milestone in our relationship, because Laura invited me to her flat for dinner. She even cooked it, and very good it was. However, whilst she enjoyed a glass of Prosecco, she expected me to drink tap water. (“You'll be driving later, poppet,” she reminded me.) I helped her clear up after the meal and, without being asked, I washed the dishes. Then I made us both a cup of coffee, which I took into th...

The next two weeks passed relatively uneventfully. I learnt how to do my housework faster and better, although in return Helen became more critical of my output, so I found myself being told off or punished for what seemed like trivial mistakes. I became increasingly familiar with the kitchen corner and wall, and it was not unusual to have to spend thirty minutes or so each evening writing out lines as a reminder of what...