Reprise: I'd been caught wearing my Sister-in-law's underwear and jerking off to shemale porn by wife (Ruth), Sister-in-law (Esther) and their mother (Donna). I'd been forced into a chastity cage and made to wear panties all the time. Humiliation was now a daily event. Esther, who had investigated my internet usage on my laptop to see if I'd visited shemale porn (or similar sites) before, had found no evidence of that. Yet she did want to know about "Bowser" and a curious email I'd sent to him some years back.

Sleep didn't come easy that night, not only was I still trying to come to terms with my new, subordinate, relationship with my wife and her sister and mother, but also with Penny. The sex I'd had with Penny and Geri was, admittedly, a relief from the pent-up frustration of having to wear a chastity cage, but the thought of screwing those two would not be something I'd brag about to my friends if you know what I mean.

Furthermore, even though Esther had confirmed I'd no previous history of getting turned on by crossdressing or the whole shemale thing, the relief at that was countered by her probing into my message to Bowser.

On the Sunday morning, I got up early and washed and just put a dressing gown over my purple nightie and panties and put on the pink shoes as Ruth had instructed. My hair had lost some of its shape from the previous day but still had a feminine look about it, and my finger and toe nails were still painted pink. I'd wiped off the lipstick the night before.

Whilst making the breakfasts, I pondered over the Bowser email that Esther had uncovered, an email I'd sent to Bowser some years ago under my Gmail account and had foolishly forgot to delete. All further email contact I'd had with Bowser was done via an email address with another provider other than Gmail. I'd used it solely for my business with Bowser and had deleted all the messages I'd received from him. Esther had assumed I'd only used the 3 Gmail accounts and I couldn't see how she'd be able to find out about the one I'd used for Bowser, especially as those were sent via an older laptop which had now been replaced by this one, on which I'd never used that email service. The more I thought about it, the more confident I became that my Bowser association would remain a secret.

It certainly helped that, at breakfast, neither of the women mentioned the Bowser message again and, apart from Esther reminding Ruth to fetch my old bank account statements from that period for her to give to their mother to look at, (I didn't use online banking in those days), it didn't seem to occupy their thoughts or conversation.

Ruth had come down for breakfast in t-shirt and knickers whilst Esther -- perhaps just to embarrass me -- wore a brown kimono with white trim, but no bra, frequently flashing her fulsome breasts as she leant across the breakfast table to reach for various things. I tried not to look but sometimes, it was just impossible to avoid. Ruth and Esther both seemed happy for this situation to prevail.

As Esther finished her coffee after her meal, Ruth told me to come upstairs with her as she wanted me to try on some new clothes that she'd bought me.

I'd planned to wear a nice pair of black silk panties that had small white and red flowers on and a small white bow at the front. Ruth was happy for me to put these on but, instead of the slacks I'd worn the day before, she handed me a dress -- yes, a dress!

"You'll only have to wear it indoors, and only in front of me or those who already know you like crossdressing," she informed me.

It was a sleeveless, white, pink and grey striped summer dress from a major retailer. Ruth had guessed my size correctly, and it fitted well, the hem being just above my knees. She then made me put on some tan stockings she'd bought which I fastened to a white, lacy suspender belt that must also have been purchased on her shopping expedition whilst I was at Penny and Auntie Geraldine's place.

Dressed as ordered I allowed Ruth to brush my hair so that it took on the more feminine look that had been crumpled out by my ruffling it in bed overnight.

"There," Ruth said, admiring me as I stood up and turned around for her to inspect me. "You look quite a smart lady now. Let's get you downstairs so that Esther can admire you before she goes."

It was too late to protest I guessed, so meekly complied and allowed Esther to look me up and down. She too approved of my appearance.

"Just needs a bit of lipstick and eye-make up and maybe some earrings and she'd be quite feminine," was Esther's assessment.

Ruth told me to lift up the hem of my dress so that her sister could see what pretty panties I had on and, although I huffed at this, I thought it best to go along with things and get it out of the way, rather than cause a fuss or an argument which, if recent events were anything to go by, I'd lose anyway.

Once Esther had left -- just before midday -Ruth reminded me I had lots of chores to do, including washing Penny and Geri's panties, plus her own and mine too. It was a good drying day, so I was able to get through these laundry chores without delay. In fact, when I was in the back garden, pegging out the washing, the gentle sensation of the slight breeze blowing up my dress and around my thighs and pantie-clad bottom was rather pleasant. So too was the gentle pull on the stockings as I stretched to reach up to the washing line. As long as this aspect of my life was kept a secret, I decided, it was endurable; embarrassing yes, but endurable.

Washing, ironing, dusting and changing the sheets on the beds kept me busy for most of the afternoon and I made us both cups of tea from time to time. Ruth prepared supper and, for the most part, I never gave serious thought to the Bowser issue.

After we'd eaten supper and I'd done the washing up, I settled down in the living room to read a book whilst Ruth was on her laptop; I was still in my dress and stockings.

"Hey, Carla, come and have a look at this."

I went over to her side and looked to see what had caused her to call for me. It was footage of me posing in the white panties with the black trim for Penny. I'd been made to say things like "Doesn't Carla look sweet in her knickers?" whilst posing and, watching this now caused me to blush as red as it's possible to.

"Penny's finished editing all the film she took yesterday; do you want to watch?" Ruth asked.

I shook my head and was about to walk away but Ruth, eyes fixed on her screen (which now showed me with my face buried in Auntie Geraldine's buttocks), reached out and grabbed my wrist and yanked me down beside her. After a couple of minutes more watching the film, to my surprise, she put her hand up my skirt and started to tug my panties down.

"I think it's time for me to have a taste of this," she smiled and quickly sought out her handbag which was nearby and deftly extracted the key to my chastity cage. She smirked at the look on my face.

"Don't worry, I don't usually keep it in there, so don't bother rooting for it. Got enough of the man left in you to take me on now?"

I nodded enthusiastically.

"I'm giving you an early treat as Esther didn't find anything untoward. Aren't I just too kind to you?"

"Yes love, I can't wait. Thank you so much -- it seems like an age since we last..."

I didn't finish the sentence. Ruth handed me the key and I hastily fumbled under my black floral panties to unlock and remove my chastity device. Ruth meanwhile had stood up and stepped out of her dress and stood astride me. She was wearing a skimpy cornflower-blue pair of sexy briefs with a lace trim and matching bra. I could see signs that watching me have sex with Geri had aroused her. The film was still showing on the laptop and, as she stepped out of her panties, I felt as though I was dreaming; that I'd arrived in paradise. She lowered her pussy to my face as I slid my bottom on to the carpet, the back of my head resting on the edge of the settee. My hands reached out to caress her breasts. Not bothering to unclasp her bra, I pulled the cups down and soon found her erect nipples. The sensation I felt rubbing and tweaking those two responsive peaks together with the feel and scent of her pussy was indescribable. My tongue (still a little swollen from yesterday's exertions) was going to give her clit the treat of its life; I'd show her what it was like to have sex with a man. When it came down to it, I thought, I was still the man and Ruth wanted my touch, my feel, my dick. Now uncaged, my penis stood erect and proud -- ready for action. My manhood was what she wanted and boy, was she going to get it.

After a good while of me tonguing her clit and rubbing my face into her trim, hairy bush, she lowered her bum down towards my dick. I now had a greater chance to feel her wonderful breasts; she was moaning in delight as I let my fingers roll around them. Out of the corner of my eye I could see footage on the laptop of Penny riding me; of her small but tempting breasts -- breasts that she'd stopped me from fondling; well, that was her loss. It was she who had missed out on having me, a proper man, pleasure her. Ruth was going to benefit from Penny's loss.

Ruth pushed my head down onto the floor and pulled my dress up to my armpits. I reached down and managed to tug my panties off and then lay back and allowed her to slip her eager, moist fanny over my dick.

I could hear the sound of Penny riding me in the background and now a similar noise was coming from my wife as she gradually increased the pace of her rise and descent.

"Call me ma'am Carla.; to rhyme with farm. Tell ma'am you want her to fuck you!" she implored.

"Fuck me ma'am. Please ma'am, fuck Carla," I found myself saying.

She increased her pace. Her tits now hovered just above my face and I strained my head to take in a juicy nipple and suck it to her delight.

I stretched my legs wider, luxuriating in the feel of my stockings being yanked by the straps on my suspender belt. I wanted this whole sensation to never end; the scent of her aroused womanhood, the feel of her nipples, the tautness of my stockings and suspender-belt straps plus, in the background, the sound of Penny's love juices swooshing over my dick. But all good things must come to an end, and I came in hot, thankful gushes. Ruth, who'd climaxed too, looked down at me and smiled.

"Did Carla enjoy being fucked by ma'am?"

"Yes. Yes ma'am. It was lovely."

"That's good. Ma'am wants you to wash and change into your nightie and night-time panties now and come back down here."

"Yes ma'am," I agreed. I happily did as I was told and, on returning downstairs, hoping that we could do it again, found myself back locked in my chastity cage.

"Now just wait for your birthday and we can do that again. That'll be nice won't it?"

"Yes, that'll be great love. I can't wait."

"No Carla," Ruth pulled me up brusquely. "That'll be great ma'am, remember?"

"Sorry. That'll be great -- ma'am," I corrected myself.

Ruth then went upstairs and changed into her night-attire, thankfully turning off the laptop and saving me any more embarrassment. When she re-appeared, she had a bottle of nail varnish remover and cotton-wool balls with her. She told me to remove my nail varnish and to take the remover and unused cotton-wool balls up to my room as I'd probably need them again sometime. I eventually managed to remove all the pink varnish from my fingers and toe nails. I had been wondering whether I'd be forced to leave them painted when I went to work the next day, so was glad that that was no longer a concern.

All in all, it hadn't been too bad a day. Apart from a surprise glorious shag with my Ruth, I'd got quite a bit of my household chores done and had washed and dried Penny and Auntie Geraldine's panties in time for my returning them to Penny in the morning. Esther had not been able to find any trace of my having visited any shemale or transsexual internet sites and I'd reconciled myself to enjoying wearing dresses when in the privacy of my home. Furthermore, although now back in my chastity cage, I had the definite promise of further sex to come with Ruth come my birthday. I'd forgotten all about the Bowser issue -- that was until Ruth told me I had to go to bed.

"Off you go Carla. I'm glad you enjoyed ma'am letting you have sex. And don't worry, I'm sure Esther will verify all that Bowser stuff is of no importance. Night-night."

"Night-night ma'am."

The next day I drove us both to the office. I was keen to get in early as I wanted to hand the freshly washed panties over to Penny before Marsha came in. (I was wearing a plain dark-blue cotton pair if you must know, with a little lacy edging of the same colour.) Ruth probably guessed my reason for seeming to be in a hurry but never said anything. On our way there, on looking into the car's rear-view mirror I became a little uneasy at the look of my hairstyle. There was no way I could have brushed it back into its pre-Geraldine look and I decided that, at the first opportunity, I would go to a men's hairdressers and have it cut, very short. I'd just get it done, without asking Ruth's permission; it was my hair after all and I shouldn't be needing my wife's approval. I was the man in this relationship when all said and done.

I told Ruth I was nipping into town later that morning to see the Auction House team with regards to a property I was selling (this was true actually) and had a couple of things to sort out with the bank. She accepted this without question. She and Penny were preparing to take a display down to some marketing event in Birmingham and would be out of the office most of the day too. Ruth told me she'd have to take the car and that I'd need to get a bus home that evening and not to bother making her anything to eat as she and Penny would eat out. She didn't expect to get home much before 10p.m.

Penny arrived at the office before Marsha so, after giving her a minute or two to take her coat off, I wondered into her office and handed her the bag with her and Geri's panties in.

"Thanks Carla. Oh, and don't worry, I won't call you that when Marsha's around; your secret's safe with me."

"Thanks. I appreciate that," I acknowledged and turned to return to my office but was called back by her.

"Thanks. I appreciate that! Haven't you forgotten something?"

"Thanks. I appreciate that -- Miss Penny."

"That's better. Don't forget. Now, leave please. I've got a busy day ahead."

I happily took leave of her.

I heard Marsha arrive and give her greetings to Ruth and Penny from behind the closed door of my office. Whilst on my own there, I pondered whether I should try and see Bowser, maybe to warn him. Was there any need to warn him though? It might only spread concern where none was merited, after all, it wasn't as though Esther had a clue about what we'd done all those years ago, and I was confident it would remain a secret. Even so, I felt he had a right to know and besides, Bowser was the sort of chap who'd bolster my confidence and reassure me that we had covered our tracks too well for anything to be unearthed. Reassurance was something I wanted.

When it was time to head for the town centre, I left my office and made polite conversation with Marsha, duly asking if she'd had a nice holiday but not really taking too much interest in her reply. Ruth's door was shut, so I asked Marsha just to tell her that I was heading into town if she wondered where I'd got to.

I'd given Ruth the car keys when we'd arrived that morning and she'd said she hoped I had a successful day.

"Thanks, you too," I'd replied.

"No Carla. Haven't you remembered? You too ma'am," she corrected me.

"You too ma'am," I mumbled, even though there was no one around to hear. Being made to speak like this to her, to address her in this servile way had made me even more determined to get my hair cut that day: that would show her!

Just over an hour later, I emerged from a gent's hairdresser suitably shorn, only a fine shadow of stubble separating me from total baldness. It was comforting running my hand over the bristles and knowing that nothing Ruth or anyone did could fashion this hairstyle into anything feminine; this was a man's haircut. Feeling better, I wound my way through the town streets to the offices of Carluke, Chisnall and Reed, a long-established firm of solicitors where Bowser was a partner. I took a chance on his being able to see me straight away.

"Mr. Hutchinson has a client with him at the moment. Can you come back at 11:30 sir?" the receptionist asked me. I confirmed I could and went back in to town to sort out things with the bank etc.

Henry Rupert Hutchinson was a solicitor who specialised in Probate (Wills, Power-of-Attorney, that sort of thing). Some 15 years or so older than me, I first got to know him through our mutual membership of the local sports club at the time I was going through my divorce with Amanda. Henry was a mad keen cricketer and had put up a notice at the club asking for volunteers for the club's cricket team which played in a Sunday league and of which he was captain. I was quite a decent batsman at High School so signed-up.

Henry had been educated at a typically English private boarding school and, like so many who go down that route, had an air of self-confidence and charm together with an almost assumed air of self-entitlement. That he wasn't then, at that time, a partner in Carluke, Chisnall and Reed was a matter of some annoyance to him but, apart from that, he was an affable, wholly likeable fellow. We soon hit it off in the cricket team and he, as an older, wiser friend, sort of took me under his wing when I moaned to him about how my divorce was going. Henry was married, to Kay, and they had two children. Henry wasn't that well-off, his parents having spent most of their wealth paying for him and his two brothers to go to private schools, but Kay and her side of the family had a bit and were quite well-connected.

Early on in his schooldays, he was asked to write an essay on what he would like to be when he grew up. Henry's love of cricket led to him writing that he wanted to be a bowler (the equivalent of a pitcher in baseball I reckon), however, the young Henry's writing of a lower-case "l" looked more like a lower-case "s", and his teacher mocked him for wanting to be a "bowser". That's how he got his nickname, although he only ever told that story to his cricketing chums and allowed no-one else to use it, thinking it quite inappropriate that someone in his position dealing with wills etc. should be referred to in such a manner.

The time for our meeting came and I sat in the grand old reception room of Carluke, Chisnall and Reed wondering how I was going to tell Bowser my news. I couldn't tell him my finances were being looked into following my sister-in-law's investigation into my crossdressing, so I settled on telling him it was because of my latest business venture with the Giffords. I'd not seen Bowser for some months but he knew of the development Big Max was planning. (Since being made a partner, his family had moved house to the posher part of east Cheshire where Max and Donna lived and Kay was on nodding terms with Donna, sharing many acquaintances.)

His secretary, Joyce, came for me and led me to his office. It was large, well-furnished room with stacks of books and filing cabinets spread along its walls. A framed photo of him, Kay and their children stood on his desk. Bowser stood up to shake my hand, his large, imposing frame now showing the first signs of hair loss on his otherwise thick head of dark brown hair.

"Carl old fellow. So nice to see you. Please, take a seat."

He then addressed Joyce.

"I say Joyce old-girl, can you rustle up a tea for Mr. Henley or that's now Henley-Gifford isn't it?"
I nodded to confirm.

"Oh, and see if you can purloin a few biscuits from the boardroom too. I'll have my usual too thanks."

Joyce, a smartly dressed woman in her early fifties, duly went away to do her master's bidding. I wondered if she felt about Bowser's manner with her what Penny thought about me.

We made the usual small talk about family, cricket, the weather and suchlike until Joyce returned with our drinks and biscuits and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

"So, Carl, what brings you to old Bowser's office? You don't want me to check up on Big Max's will now do you? I hear he's not in great health."

I explained how, whilst it was nothing to be worried about, I thought he ought to be made aware that my finances were going to be closely scrutinised, including that period when we had our "special" arrangement. When Bowser asked why this was taking place, I explained about my taking out a large loan to buy into Max's latest venture. That seemed to satisfy him.

"Wise move old chap, tagging on the Gifford surname to yours. No doubt that got you into Max's good books -- if you weren't already. But, as long as you followed my instructions, I can't see that you -- we -- have anything to fear. You did follow my instructions, didn't you?"

Bowser leant back, awaiting my answer, breaking a Bourbon biscuit in half before eating it and then taking a sip of his tea; public school educated fellows didn't dunk I remembered thinking.

"Yes, Bowser, yes. To the letter. I just thought you needed to know, that's all."

"Well nothing to worry about then old chap. Who's doing the checking? The loan company? "

"It's Donna, Max's wife actually who's doing the check-up. A bit late now as I'm all signed-up to Max's consortium, but Donna's only now got the time to do it. She says she likes to go through things to satisfy her everything's above board. Standard procedure for her I gather."

Bowser's face turned a little more serious. He took another sip of tea.

"Donna you say? Oh, that's a bit unfortunate. You might have been bowled a Yorker * there old chap. I really hope you've been as careful as I asked."

My surprised look invited him to elaborate.

"Look, I'm not sure where I got this from, maybe Kay or from someone Kay knows who knows Donna, but you do know that Donna was something of a star tax expert before she met Max?"

"Yes," I nodded, "I knew she worked on his accounts. That's how she got to know him."

"Well, and this is only second or third hand, rumour has it that some chap working on one of his sites years ago was seriously injured due to some faulty work or equipment-- scaffolding or a wall or something fell on him. The Health and Safety crew very nearly prosecuted Max for negligence, in the end they didn't have sufficient evidence. It seems though, that -- and again I stress this is only gossip -- some time later, Donna was going through his books and found out that he'd covered up from the Health and Safety wallahs that he'd bought sub-standard safety gear or something like that - although he'd put it through the books as top-end stuff - and that had resulted in the poor worker being injured. She's one smart cookie Carl. Don't underrate her."

"No, I won't Bowser, but, like I said, I followed your instructions to the letter."

"Good. Those Gifford women -- how is the lovely Ruth by the way? -- they're smarter than the average. Take my word for it, from what Kay's heard, they want their pound of flesh from any men that cross them."

"I know Bowser. Plenty warned me -- maybe you were one of them -- to steer clear of Esther. I've heard about her and the chastity cage."

Bowser looked a little surprised. "I've heard the chastity cage story, but it wasn't to do with Esther. At least that's not what Kay heard."

"Then who?"

"Donna. Rumour has it, when she uncovered his -- shall we say malpractice -- she demanded Max wore a chastity device or she'd blow the whistle on him. Incredible, but that's how the story goes."

"No Bowser. That can't be right. Why, only the other day Moggsy told me it was Esther who tried to clamp her ex in one of those things, but he wouldn't stand for it."

"Maybe that's true as well Carl, but, so a friend of Kay's says, Max went on a club outing to some big race meeting. They'd all had a good day and drank too much. On the coach home, Max was desperate for a pee and when they pulled in to some pub car park, he raced into the toilet. This friend of Kay's, well, her husband was on the coach too, he was dying for a pee as well and he followed not far behind. He reckoned that the only cubicle in the gents was in use, so Max had to use the urinal. This chap reckoned that he saw him peeing through what he described as something like a lobster-pot with a lock on! Hard to believe I know. What man would let himself be subject to that?"

"Yes, crazy. You'd have to be mad," I agreed.

"Anyway," Bowser continued, "all I'm saying is don't underestimate Donna. If you've covered your tracks like I asked, everything will be fine. You do realise that if our little "enterprise" was exposed, we'd both get porridge?"

I nodded. I was fully aware of the consequences.

"I'd get what? Maybe six years, you might get off with four. We don't want that now do we?"

I left Bowser a little less confident than I had anticipated. I'll explain now just what we had done.

Bowser was the solicitor with acting Power of Attorney for a widow then in her 90's -- a Mrs Enid Mercer. The only beneficiary in her will was her sole surviving family member, a nephew in his sixties and himself in poor health who lived in New Zealand.

Once Bowser found out that my divorce was completely over and done with and that Amanda had got all she was going to get off me, he quietly suggested that he could help me get my property business back on the road, but that I had to do exactly as he said and that there must be no trace of Bowser's "fingerprints" whatsoever.

I was to make a mock Estate Agent's letter valuing Enid Mercer's house at £120,000. When Mrs Mercer died, Bowser would fax this valuation to the nephew saying that it was too low and to hang on for more. I was then to create another valuation from a different fictional Estate Agency, rating the house at £125,00. Bowser would recommend the nephew (a chap called Raymond Williamson) reject this too. Then, I was to send in a false builder's survey on the property stating that it was in a terrible state of repair and needed time and big money spending on it, quoting something like £20,000 to put things right. (He suggested I included some mention of a particularly troublesome weed -- he couldn't remember the name of it and neither could I when we first discussed it). He'd fax this to the nephew who by now, Bowser reckoned, would be chomping-at-the-bit to get his hands on the money before he too passed away. Whilst all this was going on, Bowser would hand me lots of small sums of cash which I was to bank until I had enough in the account to persuade the bank to advance me a loan, sufficient to allow me to buy a property for £130,000.

Then, I would -- in my own name -- offer £130,000 for a quick purchase of the Mercer house. Bowser would recommend it be sold, the nephew would readily agree and then, some months later, after I'd carried out the minor work the house really needed, sell the house at auction for its real worth -- about £380,000. I'd then pay back Bowser's loan to me and we'd split the profit (after legal fees and loan interest charges), 60/40 to Bowser. The nephew didn't use the internet and, as he hadn't come to the UK for Mr. Mercer's funeral, was almost certain not to come over when Mrs Mercer died. Bowser reckoned the nephew had no idea about property prices in the UK and would be very happy just to get his hands on the £130,000 (minus fees of course).

It worked like a dream. Bowser handed me sums of cash over the months we had to wait before Mrs Mercer died, and I banked these. Bowser insisted I never pay in the same, well-rounded sums each time as that might look suspicious if ever queried by the bank or by another solicitor. So, I paid in amounts that didn't always start with the same numbers or always end in zeroes. The largest deposit (of £9,228), was after I'd accompanied Bowser to a race meeting with a group of business acquaintances. Bowser secretly handed me about £10,000 in notes and told me to get drinking with some of the people in the group and, after the last race, make a great show of flashing all this cash about in front of them, telling them that I'd won it betting on the horses. That would then give me an alibi if anyone ever had cause to query how I came to have that amount of money. I followed the plan to the letter.

Thanks to this little ruse, I made enough money to start my business up again after my divorce, and this time deal in better class houses with bigger profit margins than I'd had to work with up until then.

This all happened before I started courting Ruth. Ruth got to meet Bowser (and Kay), indeed we invited them to our wedding but they couldn't attend, Kay's parents were taking them on holiday to Kenya and they couldn't back out of it. Ruth never knew Henry's nickname thankfully or she'd have realised who that Gmail that Esther referred to was for.

Bowser got made a partner at the law firm a couple of years later and, on the few occasions we mentioned our little scam, insisted that he'd never ever go down that route again. He confided that, at the time, he was a little ashamed that Kay was earning more than him (she was a lecturer at the University and sat on any number of committees) and that her parents seemed to take great pleasure in bringing this up in conversation. He wanted to get hold of a large enough pot of money not to have to rely on Kay and her family to pay for things. I was very flattered that Bowser entrusted me with all of this cash but he reckoned I'd showed on the cricket field I was an honourable type so took the chance of involving me in his scheme.

The news about Max being caged by Donna though came as a complete shock -if it was true.

I went home that afternoon and changed into the same dress Ruth had made me wear the day before. I kept the same panties on and didn't bother with stockings. There was little or no housework for me to do apart from make myself something to eat and, although I knew Ruth still had more clothes for me from her recent shopping trip, as there were still in bags in her bedroom, I didn't risk taking a peek. Neither did I bother trying to find a key to my chastity cage. I tried to relax and watch some television, my only immediate concerns being how Ruth would react to my having my hair cut so short and whether Donna might start asking awkward questions about all the various bank account deposits I'd been making at the time of my scheme with Bowser.

It was shortly after 9:30p.m. when Ruth arrived back from Birmingham. By that time, I'd changed into my shorty pyjama bottoms and matching top (yellow with blue and green flowers on them) with frills at the cuffs and bottom of the legs. She was tired and didn't seem to mind my new haircut as much as I'd feared. She did though pull me up for not addressing her as ma'am. Still, calling her that was a price worth paying if it meant I'd get to have sex with her again.

The next few weeks were quite uneventful. I'd heard nothing from Esther -- which may have been down to her still working on her backlog rather than being unable to find out anything contradictory about my "Bowser" Gmail explanation -- or from Donna. Penny had not embarrassed me in front of Marsha by making me call her "Miss Penny" when Marsha was within earshot, and Ruth had been pleasant and friendly too, only really getting annoyed with me when I forgot to call her ma'am.

On one evening, Ruth brought her shopping bags into the bedroom and showed me the various items of clothing she'd been buying me. I won't list them all as I'm sure that would bore you, but there were a number of dresses and blouses as well as hosiery and panties. She must have spent quite a bit on me; I suppose I ought to have been flattered by that. There were also a few pairs of high-heeled shoes which she'd made me try on and try to walk around in. I managed without too much trouble but did wonder when she expected me to wear them; surely one didn't wear high-heels around the house!

My birthday was fast approaching and my sense of excitement and anticipation was growing with each day. Two days before my birthday, I had to drive to Max and Donna's house to pick them up and take us to a meeting in Manchester with our architect, a woman from the town planning department and our main building contractor. The meeting itself, which took well over 2 hours, was not particularly eventful and, on the drive back to my in-law's house, Donna suggested we call in at a country pub and have a drink and a bite to eat. Max was keen and I didn't dare disagree with anything Donna said, so we called in at a rather classy place called "The Three Goats". Our conversation over the drinks and food was pleasant and Donna gave no hint at all to Max that their son-in-law had anything to be ashamed of. I though, was acutely aware that the last time this woman had seen me before today, I was bent over her knees getting my bare bottom spanked.

In due course, Max asked to be excused to go to the toilet, leaving me alone with Donna for the first time that day. I felt awkward; not sure what to say. Should I talk about the meeting we'd just had or what?

Donna was in a smart, black business suit with a shiny white low-cut blouse, stockings (I assumed) and black high-heeled shoes. I concentrated hard on looking at her face when we talked and didn't try to get a peak down her blouse (unlike our building contractor earlier, who was clearly impressed by her cleavage). Before I could think of what to say to her, Donna beat me to it.

"I've just had a chance these last few days to have a look at your bank statements that Esther brought round. Interesting."

She left it at that, knowing I'd have to ask why, which I did.

"Well Carla, have you ever heard of "Bemford's Law"?

I hadn't. Donna went on to explain that, generally, it referred to the number distribution in most sets of figures, and how these usually follow a distinct pattern. When this wasn't the case, it was often a case of fraud.

"How interesting," was all I could answer.

"Yes. It is interesting. When you were married, all your statements complied with that particular numerical law. But just after you got divorced, for the next two years or so, they all failed the Bemford's law distribution pattern. Then, suddenly they all reverted back to complying with it and have done to this day. Why do you think that is Carla?"

I was dying for Max to return from his toilet visit so that we'd have to change the subject and I could get a chance to think of a plausible answer -- not that I was confident that I could come up with one.

"Look Donna, those years after my divorce were pretty tough. I had to do jobs and take on projects I wouldn't normally have tackled, deal with tradesmen and the like who might not always have done things by the book; you know what I mean? In fact, on reflection, I'd have been even more surprised if my financial goings-on then were what you'd call "normal". "

Donna didn't look impressed by my answer, but in the circumstances, I thought I'd not made too bad an effort.

Then I decided to change tack.

"Max seems to have been gone a while. Do you think he's alright? Would you like me to go and check on him for you?"

"No Carla, I'm sure he's fine. He's often this long nowadays. Maybe give him another five minutes or so."

At this point, I decided, quite impulsively to ask Donna if Max too, like me, had been fitted with a chastity device. Donna threw back her head and laughed.

"Oh, you've heard that rumour too. Actually, yes, it is true. It's my way of..."

"Punishing him?" I suggested.

"No. Not punish, but more educate him, get him to realise where he stood in our relationship. For all his braggadocio and swagger, I'm the boss. His cage makes sure he never forgets that. I call the shots where Max Gifford is concerned and Ruth calls the shots with you now, yes?"

I blushed and nodded.

"And don't you forget that. I always impressed upon my girls that any weakness their partner shows should be exploited by them. Physically, we may be the weaker sex and might be discriminated against by men, but we retain power if we know how to use it. That day when we came back to Esther's, well, what a gift that was for Ruth. We couldn't believe our luck. You were well and truly trapped, like some fly crawling into a Venus fly-trap ..." She cupped her hands and then slammed them shut to imitate that plant.

"Snap. We'd got you. It's up to Ruth now how she uses you, but you'll never be in a position to boss my little girl around now, will you?" she laughed.

Max returned from his toilet visit and our conversation returned to more everyday topics.

The Saturday morning of my birthday came around without further incidents or disclosures and I could hardly wait for Ruth to give me the call to take my pleasure with her. I could see from the sparkle in her eyes that she too was enjoying our -- her -- game of extreme prick teasing. First though, she made me open the birthday presents she and Esther and Donna had bought me.

I'd been made to dress in a quite sticky-out, frilly red dress and wear a silk petticoat underneath. These I wore over a tiny scarlet silk G-string that barely had enough fabric to cover my chastity cage. I had to wear a pair of white, knee-high socks that had a frilly edge around the top and a pair of flat, black shoes. Carla had wanted me to paint my nails too, but I manned-up and objected to this. Perhaps because it was my birthday, she relented.

This outfit, together with other apparel was Ruth's present to me. Esther's was a pair of chokers, one in black the other in pink, both with a white lace trim and with a small set of bells on them that chimed when I moved; Ruth made me put on the pink choker. There was also an ankle chain which also had small bells on it. Ruth said I could leave those off for today but that I must always wear them when I was in the house from then on.

Donna's present was a pair French knickers from "Eve's Temptations" in lustrous white with white lace trim and with sides that were a kind of see-through, gauzy white, just like the pair I'd been made to buy Esther.

"Now Carla, you must sit down and send them an email thanking them for their generous presents, right away."

"Yes ma'am," I agreed, not wanting to incur Ruth's wrath and maybe make her refuse to give me my main present.

At 5pm., when I was almost going crazy with expectation -- my dick was straining inside its cage -- Ruth went upstairs to shower and change and told me I must follow her and shower after her, she'd give me the key to unlock my device then. The big moment was near. Ruth had asked me what I'd like her to wear when we made love and I requested her to wear her waist-pinching half-cup black Basque with black seamed stockings and a small black G-string that I knew she had. I know all this black stocking stuff wasn't that original, but so what? My dick sure as hell liked it.

When I emerged naked and uncaged from the shower, the sight of her lying stretched out on the bed, dressed as I'd requested with one leg bent and leaning slightly away from the other, showing the little silky patch of material covering her black bush, nearly made me faint.

"Come to ma'am Carla and ask her permission for you to fuck her."

"Please ma'am, may I fuck you?" I almost choked on the words, so excited was I.

"You may fuck ma'am Carla, there's a good girl."
I joined her on the bed and started to slowly feel her legs, suck on her nipples, turn her over and tongue her lovely butt crease and hole, nudging the slim G-string fabric out of the way as I did so. The touch, the scent, the taste of her, the sound of her moaning with pleasure -- it was wonderful, too wonderful to put in to words but...

It shames me to tell you this but, in spite of all this and my not having ejaculated for some weeks, my dick never became stiff enough to penetrate her. After a fair while trying to get my disobedient dick to stand firm, Ruth cottoned on to my situation and suggested a solution.

"Carla, if it helps, go and put some panties on, maybe that crotchless purple pair that my mum gave you, and some stockings and suspenders, and we can try again."

"Yes ma'am," I answered, barely able to look her in the eye with humiliation.

We then made love with Ruth on top each time, before I was caged again, somehow feeling even less of a man that I thought was possible.

Was I destined to be forever the submissive partner instead of the fit, masculine man I'd always considered I was? Did I always need to wear lingerie in order to get stiff? This now became as much of a concern to me as my business with Bowser.

*Yorker. In cricket, a ball that bounces right in front of the batsman's feet making it difficult for him to play. In general - any problem that comes upon you suddenly and is difficult to deal with.