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A Misunderstanding Ch. 01

By: undiecontrol



"I want you to go and stand in the corner while I work out how to deal with this." Her voice was steady and assertive, and any anger she felt was disguised.

"NO!" Simon replied, in an equally firm voice, but with his anger barely concealed, "I'm not a child! We'll sit down and discuss this like adults."

"You will go and stand in the corner, Simon. Your behaviour has been childish so I'm going to treat you like a child. Go into the corner!"

"Look!" he shouted, "I've said I'm sorry. I shouldn't have searched through your knicker drawer. It won't happen again. Let's just sit down and talk this through. You're overreacting and that's making matters worse."

"You're the one shouting, not me," she calmly replied. "And I don't appreciate your condescending tone of voice. You need a period of time to calm down and reflect, and you will do that while you're in the corner."

He was standing in the bedroom stark naked, having come out of the shower room only minutes earlier. On entering the bedroom, Emma had been sitting on the bed, firmly wrapped in a bathrobe, holding a pair of her black satin thong panties that she had taken from her lingerie drawer. Even before she had time to speak, Simon had found himself blushing. Somehow, he didn't know how, she had discovered that he had worn them. Now he was trying to defend himself and avoid utter humiliation. He'd not had to stand in the corner since he was at junior school and he didn't enjoy it much then. Perhaps if this was a game, it might have been fun to be sent into the corner by Emma, but this was clearly not playtime and she meant business. Yet he understood his predicament and he realised it had the potential to get much worse if all the truth came out. He judged it might be best to go along with her order, if only to defuse the situation. But first, he thought, one last attempt to gain the upper hand.

"Me standing in the corner will only delay our little chat," he argued. "Why don't we both get back into bed and work our way through this. Come on, darling! We can work this out, can't we?"

"If you think you are sleeping with me before this is sorted out then you are sadly mistaken," she retorted.

"But that's what I want - us to sort this out," he pleaded, his patience wearing thin. "I want us to deal with this like adults and that means talking to one another in a rational way." 

"Go and stand in the corner," she repeated, pointing in the direction of the only empty corner in the room.

He decided to change tact in the hope of making light of the situation. "Why don't you give me a spanking, Emma. That would be punishment. I could get over your knees."

She had never spanked him before, so she had no idea where that idea had arisen from but evidently it was something else that he fantasised about. "We've been together for nearly a year - and you've lived in my house for two months - and I don't know you at all, Simon. I don't like what I'm hearing. I seem to be sharing my house - and my bed - with a pervert. You have one last chance to do what you've been told or else you pack your bags and go. What's it to be?"

Simon recognised that suggesting a spanking had been a step too far. He also knew her threat wasn't an idle one - she'd made it clear when he moved in that it was her house and her rules. If he was to save their relationship he had no choice but to comply with her demand. So, reluctantly, and feeling rather humiliated, he moved into the corner so that he was a foot away from the wall. At the very least he hoped this cooling off period would give him time to rescue the situation.

"No, Simon," she said. "I want you to get closer. Toes touching the skirting board and nose touching the wall. Clasp your hands behind your back. You will stay there for thirty minutes. Keep very still! If you move or talk I'll reset the clock."

With deep concerns, he did as he was instructed, wondering what was going to happen after his time was up. How much damage had he caused to their relationship, he pondered. He couldn't bear losing Emma and was intent on doing his utmost to repair any damage.

He stood quietly and as steadily as he could. This wasn't like corner time at school, he recalled. There the miscreant would stand two or three feet from the corner, turning around whenever the opportunity arose to pull faces at the class. He didn't want to risk misbehaving here, not with the mood that Emma was in.

The atmosphere was silent save for the occasional sound that Emma made as she got dressed and did her hair and make-up. Simon tried to do his best to use his corner time to work out how to make amends with Emma but he didn't find facing a blank wall to be conducive to developing a plan. Instead, he found himself thinking about how attractive Emma was and how devastated he would be if they split up. She was a gorgeous woman, two years his senior, and with a beautiful figure which she kept in shape from regular exercise. He knew he had to salvage the situation but didn't know how.

After what seemed like an interminable period, there was some movement from behind and he heard a zip being pulled which he interpreted as her putting on her jeans. Simon tried to recall how long it normally took her to get this far. He was sure that he had spent more than thirty minutes facing the wall. More like an hour he thought. He wondered if she might have forgotten the time. Should he ask her if his thirty minutes were up? Fortunately for him, he thought the better of doing that and maintained his silence, praying that she wouldn't keep him there for much longer. But still the time dragged on and he found himself counting seconds and then minutes, all the time feeling a growing inner restiveness which he had to stifle by keeping dead still.

Finally, Emma spoke. "You may turn around, Simon." Having been only a couple of inches from the wall for so long, it took his eyes a few seconds to refocus. She was sitting on the bed wearing blue denim jeans and a red blouse. Her short blond hair had been carefully brushed and the light make-up applied to her face accentuated her natural beauty.

He went to move towards her, intent on sitting alongside. "No," she said, firmly, "I want you to stay standing."

"But can I get dressed, please?" he asked. 

"No, I want you like you are," she replied, "And put your hands behind your back."

Emma could be very assertive, which was probably due to her legal training and the need to present herself forcefully in what were often male-dominated courtrooms. Simon looked rather subdued and she felt vindicated that thirty minutes in the corner had calmed him down. In reality, he was extremely tense but he feared so much for his relationship with Emma that his plan, if you could call it that, was to play it by ear and to let Emma start the talking.

She looked at him for a good thirty seconds before opening the dialogue. "Listen, Simon," she said, "What I have discovered today has shocked me and I want to try to understand what's been happening. You have to be completely honest with me. Do you understand? Is that clear?"

He nodded and she picked up the black panties that were still on the bed. He felt himself blush again. "Are you going to deny that you have been wearing these? If you tell me any lies, then you go back into the corner for another thirty minutes. It's Saturday so we have all day if we need it. Do you agree that you have worn this thong?"

Simon replied with a nod. "Sorry, I didn't catch that," she responded. 

"Yes," he said meekly, after a moment's hesitation.

"Well, let me hear you admit it properly. Say 'Yes, Emma, I have worn your black thong.'"

His face turned a shade of scarlet as he repeated her words, "Yes, Emma, I have worn your black thong."

"Good, now we are getting somewhere. Do you know what gave the game away?" she enquired. 

"No," he replied, wondering what she was getting at. 

"They're stained!" she announced, forcefully. She stood up and pushed the inside of the front panel to within a few inches of his face. "See," she said. "White stains in knickers taken from a drawer of supposedly clean knickers. Did you jerk off in them?

"No, Emma, honestly I didn't," he exclaimed. He paused for a few seconds before adding, "They're pre-cum stains, you know, they're ..."

"Yes, I know what pre-cum stains are, thank you very much. So you wore them, got aroused, leaked and then put them back in the drawer. Is that what happened?

He took a deep breath to control his rapid breathing. "Yes, darling. ... I'm really sorry. It won't happen again."

"But how many times has it happened before, Simon?" she exhorted. "Do you normally avoid the dark coloured ones so the marks don't show?"

"No! ... I mean, ... I've only ever worn that one pair." He felt himself panicking because of her line of questioning. 

"You're lying, aren't you?"

"Why would I lie?" he asked, trying to look as if his feelings had been hurt.

"Obviously because you don't want to dig a deeper hole for yourself. Are you telling me that this is the first and only time you have ever worn my knickers? What about other girl's knickers?" She gave him no chance to reply before she continued. "Are you saying that at the age of 30, you suddenly, and without any background with this fetish, developed a penchant for wearing female underwear? If that's what you are saying then I don't believe you. You don't suddenly acquire this urge. You must have done this before. Well, say something!" She'd been spewing out words like a burst of machine gun fire but now it was his turn to speak.

He felt very uncomfortable and thought for a few seconds before replying. "Yes, I've done it before," he slowly replied, his eyes focussed intently on a bit of fluff on the carpet, unable to look directly at Emma. 

"Look at me! Let me see your shame and embarrassment!"

He looked up. "I'm sorry, darling," he responded, tears welling in his eyes.

She continued with her relentless interrogation "Whose have your worn? If you tell lies, you are going back into the corner. Let's have the truth first time for once!"

"My older sister's when I was a teenager," he replied. "She never found out. Please don't tell her."

Emma ignored his request. "And who else's?" He hesitated momentarily before quietly replying, "My previous girlfriend's - Sarah's. She found out and that's why she broke up with me. Please don't break up with me Emma. I love you!"

"You said a minute ago that you had only ever worn one pair of mine. Was that the truth? Should I go and inspect my lingerie drawer? If you've been lying then it's back into the corner."

He took a deep breath. The last thing he wanted was to go back into the corner but her interrogation was merciless. "Sorry, Emma, I lied," he said, deciding that honesty might be his best option. "I have worn others in the past."

Calmly, she replied to him, "I told you not to tell me any lies. Go into the corner for another 30 minutes and then we'll try again."

This time, feeling defeated and dejected, he did as he was told without question or argument. For the second time that morning he underwent his childish punishment, wondering to himself what more Emma would manage to winkle out of him. If time seemed to stand still last time, then now it appeared to go backwards. Never in his life had thirty minutes taken so long. As a punishment, this was very effective. But what concerned him more was that his attempts so far to mend their relationship had only made matters worse.

"Right," announced Emma after the half hour had passed. "Turn around and we will try again. How often have you worn my knickers?"

He swallowed hard. "I do it two or three times a week," he replied, his cheeks all aglow. 

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "How do you find the time?"

"I usually do it when you go to your aerobics classes in the evenings. I wear them for a couple of hours while you're out."

She was clearly puzzled that she hadn't spotted this before and seeing her quizzical expression he explained, "I usually take them out of the dirty laundry bag."

"Usually?" she asked. "So that means that sometimes you don't?"

He hesitated. "Sometimes I wear your clean ones but I put on an unlubricated condom to contain any leakage." He was now blushing intensely as he gave away his sordid secrets. "I'm really sorry, Emma!"

"So what happened this time?" she asked, holding up her black thong.

"I ran out of condoms," he replied. "I wrapped my penis in a tissue but I guess some stuff must have leaked through and I didn't notice."

"How very careless," she muttered sarcastically. Going over to her drawers, she opened the middle one and took out a black bra. "Do you wear my bras as well?"

He flushed. "No! .... They're not my size."

"Not your size!" she mimicked in a mocking tone. "And what exactly is your size?"

"I mean they look too small. You're thinner than me. They wouldn't fit me. And I wouldn't wear them. Honest!"

"What size am I?"

"You're a 36C," he replied.

"So you've checked the labels to find out? And what size are you?"

"I don't know! How would I know?"

"You're lying again, aren't you? You know what size you are - at least you know your band size although I guess you don't have a cup size. So I will ask you again. What size are you?

He swallowed hard, fearful of what was to come. "38," he meekly answered. "I prefer a 38C."

"Back into the corner," she announced with a tone of finality. "I won't have you lying to me."

So for the third time that morning, Simon found himself standing very close to a blank wall for thirty minutes of sheer boredom. He desperately wanted the time to end so that he could repair his wrecked relationship although he still could not see a way out. Emma had a way of knowing when he was lying but the more the truth came out, the worse his predicament became.

His thoughts were disturbed as Emma said, "Time to start again, Simon. Turn around."

She waited for him to stand in front of her as she sat on the bed again. "Right! I'm going to take it as read that you have worn a bra in the past. I assume you don't deny that?

"No, darling," he replied.

"Don't you call me darling!"

He hesitated, feeling very flustered "... Sorry, .. Emma."

"Have you ever worn my bras?"

He stared at the floor, his silence betraying his guilt.

She continued, "I take it that's a yes, then? But you said they were too small?"

"They are, but I can just about make them stretch."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," exclaimed Emma. "Not content with just soiling my panties, you have also been stretching my bras. That certainly explains one or two things. How much worse can this get. What else of mine do you wear?

"Your clothes don't fit me, Emma."

"Well, you manage to get my panties on and also my bras. What about my skirts? Have you ever worn one of my skirts?"

He paused, looking down again. "A couple of times," he replied honestly. "But they don't do up properly."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," she mocked. "How thoughtless of me to buy the wrong size. What else have you worn that belongs to me?"

Again he hesitated considering how to reply. Emma detested this delay. "You're working out what lie you can get away with, aren't you?"

"No, Emma! Honestly, I'm not. I'm just thinking. Er... I've worn your tights!"

"So, when I'm not here you usually mince around the house wearing my panties, bra and tights. Is that right?"

"Yes ... no! You're getting me confused, Emma. I wear them but I don't mince around. Usually I put trousers and a shirt on top - my trousers and shirts! - not yours!"

"That's meant to make me feel better is it? Do you ever leave the house dressed up?"

Without hesitation, he replied "No, Emma. I've never done that because I'd be too embarrassed. What would happen if I had an accident and was taken to hospital?"

"What would happen if you fell down the stairs inside the house and were taken to hospital? Would that be less embarrassing?" He hadn't thought of that.

"Have you ever worn my lingerie while I have been here?"

"Once," he said. "You'd gone shopping for clothes and got back early. I didn't hear you arrive until you came in the front door and asked me to help carry in the bags from your car. I didn't have time to change but fortunately I wasn't wearing a bra."

"Lucky you!" she replied. "But you told me a few minutes ago that you'd never left the house dressed. Now you tell me you went outside to bring stuff from my car. You were lying again so back into the corner for another thirty minutes."

This time he felt compelled to respond. "But, Emma, I wasn't including just popping out to the car. I was talking about going to work or the pub wearing lingerie. You must have misunderstood."

"I understood perfectly," she replied. "Go back into the corner - it's now 45 minutes you'll be spending there unless you want me to increase it to an hour?"

Shamefaced, he made his way back to the corner knowing that further arguments were futile.

"I've heard all I want to hear and I need to get a breath of fresh air so I'm going for a walk." He heard her open a drawer and, a few seconds later, she pulled his wrists together and tightly bound them with a pair of her pantyhose. Then, taking the black thong, she inserted it between his nose and the wall. "If that's on the floor when I get back then I'll know you've fidgeted," she explained. "With your hands tied behind your back there's no way you can pick it up again so make sure it doesn't fall."

"And don't think this brings the matter to a conclusion," she added. "I'm going to think of how you should be punished!" With that, she left the room, pulling the door firmly shut, and leaving Simon to contemplate his fate and reflect on his wretched day.

A Misunderstanding Ch. 02



While out on her walk, Emma spent the time deciding how to deal with Simon and by the time she had got back she had hatched a plan to punish him. On entering the house, she went straight to her study to pick up a pad and pen and then went up to the bedroom to check on Simon. As she hoped, he had obeyed her instructions and her black thong was still in place, pinned to the wall by his nose, showing that he had not fidgeted. She sat down on the bed.

"Right, Simon," she announced. "You may come out of the corner now. Come and stand here." She pointed to a spot on the carpet about 4 feet in front of her.

Simon looked utterly defeated and worn out. It showed in his face and in the way he stood. He really didn't think he would be able to endure any further bouts of corner time, particularly if Emma insisted on him holding her underwear in place with his nose. "Stand up straight please, Simon."

His hands were still bound behind his back and he looked very vulnerable. She had beaten him down with her questioning and he dreaded what was going to happen next.

"Well, your behaviour in my house has been abominable. I welcomed you in as my lover, yet you have abused my hospitality by wearing my clothes. You have then repeatedly lied to me and only by persistent questioning have I been able to establish the truth. Do you accept this summary as being accurate, Simon?"

"Yes, Emma," he replied dejectedly. "I'm really sorry for what I did. Please forgive me?"

"If we're going to put this behind us, you're going to have to be punished. Do you accept that, because if you don't then you can pack your bags and move out today? I'm not messing around here. Do I have to kick you out today?"

"Please don't do that Emma. I couldn't bear to lose you. I'll accept whatever punishment you think is appropriate." He thought he'd already been punished by the corner time he'd been forced to do, but he knew that if he was to continue living with the girl he loved then he had to accept further punishment.

"Good!" she replied, genuinely pleased that he was willing to accept punishment. "I warn you that it won't be easy, and your punishment will last for 4 weeks. But when it's over, then we can put all this silliness behind us and move on. How does that sound, darling?"

He perked up at being called 'darling' and felt that she was beginning to forgive him.

"While I was walking I was thinking about your problem. The way I see it is that you can't control your urges," she argued. "Forbidding you from wearing lingerie is not going to stop those urges, I'm sure of that - no matter what promises you make. Therefore, I think the way forward is to give you a big dose of what you crave so as to eliminate these unnatural desires - to get them out of your system if you want to think of it in that way."

He listened intently to what she was saying. She was more intelligent that he was and he wasn't sure he really understood what his punishment was to be but he assumed she would soon be more specific.

"You are going to wear female underwear for the next four weeks. Well, actually, three weeks and six days because your punishment will finish on a Friday evening, but ..."

Simon felt compelled to interrupt, fearless of the possible consequences. "But I go to work! I can't wear female clothing to work. You can't make me do that! It's ridiculous, Emma."

"Relax, Simon! I don't expect you to wear a dress to work! But you WILL be wearing lingerie - panties, bra, camisole and tights," she asserted, putting considerable emphasis on the word 'will'. "Of course, you will still wear your business suit on top. Obviously, you will feel it to be very disconcerting but then it would hardly be a punishment if you enjoyed it!" She allowed herself a little laugh, as if to dismiss his concerns.

Then she continued without giving him time to respond. "The idea is that wearing female underwear day in and day out, as part of your normal life, will remove the novelty value that it must have if you only do it for a short time every few days. Add to that the discomfort you may feel wearing feminine attire in places where you may be discovered, then I reckon that after four weeks you will be cured and will never wear a pair of my knickers again." She looked at him, waiting now for him to respond.

"But, Emma," he pleaded, "when you said I was to be punished I thought it would be something ... I don't know ... something more conventional. I just can't do what you are asking. Sorry, but I just can't do it."

"That is a shame, darling," she responded. "I really hoped that we could fix things between us. My idea of combining punishment with aversion therapy seemed to kill two birds with one stone. But I understand, sweetheart - it was asking a lot. I'll help you pack, shall I?"

"No, Emma. PLEASE! There has to be another way. Please give me another chance. Punish me in whatever way you want, but don't make me wear lingerie to work." He dropped down to his knees, tearing spilling from his eyes. If his hands had not been tied, he would have put them together in prayer.

"I'm really sorry, but I don't see any other way. If I punished you in a straightforward manner I don't see how it would cure you of your addiction. You'd soon want to return to wearing my clothes again, no matter what promises you made. You do understand, darling? I'll untie your hands so we can get you packed up and on your way."

"NO! I give in," he shouted. "I can't bear to lose you, Emma. I'll do what you want."

"Good move!" she exclaimed. "It won't be easy for you, darling, but provided you do everything that you are told, in four weeks it will all be over and we can put this behind us and start afresh." She gave him a peck on the forehead and then untied his hands.

"I want you to get dressed and while you're doing that I'll write out a shopping list." She picked up her black thong. "Oh, you can put this on - no more male underwear for you for 4 weeks."

He felt embarrassed about slipping on her panties while she was in the room but a quick glance showed him that she was absorbed with her list and was paying him no attention. Soon he was dressed and she had finished writing.

She handed the paper to him and he blushed intensely when he read what she had written:

3 pairs of pink cotton panties - bikini style 3 white bras, underwired, plain with seamless moulded cups, back-fastening, white shoulder straps (no transparent straps!) - C cup 3 pairs tights - black 3 white camisoles with spaghetti straps 3 white lady's blouses - buttons on left hand side! Capable of being worn with a tie! Large pack of pantyliners - with wings! 

She let him read through the list, watching him absorb the information and observing the look of horror that was spreading across his face. He looked at her and was trying to speak but was having problems forming the words. She didn't wait for his protests and went on to explain. "This is the minimum that you need - three of everything - that way, you will be wearing one, another will be in the wash and the third will be ready to wear the next day. But you can buy more if you want - it might make it easier for your laundry." It amused her to see him blushing and she could see that he was virtually speechless.

Eventually he stuttered, "But Emma ... no ... I don't know how I will cope. And ... and ... I haven't got to stuff .... er .... wear filling in the bras, have I?"

"It not 'the bras', it's 'your bras' so ask me that question again." 

His face turned a deeper shade of red as he repeated himself, "I haven't got to wear any filling in my bras, have I?"

"I'm not going to send you to work with breasts that stick out," she informed him, smiling. "I wouldn't be that wicked."

She went across to her drawers and removed some items, "I want you to buy the right things so look carefully at these. This is the style of panties that you must buy." She held up a pair of white cotton bikini briefs, which were without doubt the plainest panties that she owned. She held them up and showed him the front and back. "See, darling, narrow side panels and full bottom and front coverage - this is what is called bikini style." She looked at his bewildered expression and, as if answering a question, she commented, "Yes, very plain and boring, I'm afraid. From a distance they could be men's underwear but close up you can see that they are obviously softer and more flimsy with very thin, delicate elastic - very feminine in fact. For your treatment to work your underwear has to be feminine but not sexy. Sexy underwear will only turn you on and that's not what we're we want, is it? However, you are not to buy white because we don't want your panties to be mistaken at a distance for men's underpants, do we? Therefore, you are going to buy pink!"

Despite the ordeal that awaited him, he couldn't help becoming aroused at the way that she was humiliating him with her words. He adjusted his position a couple of times in the hope she wouldn't notice. But seeing his growing bulge she commented, "If plain underwear has that effect, image what would happen if I had instructed you to buy some skimpy thongs? How embarrassing would they be to you in the office?"

"And this is how you insert your pantyliners," she explained, taking one out of a packet and showing him what to do with the wings. "The wings hold it in place."

He audibly sucked in air. "Why do I need to wear those?" he questioned, unable to bring himself to say the word 'pantyliners'.

"Just look at yourself!" she commented. "That bulge is going to cause dampness, isn't it? Your pantyliners will help to keep you dry and fresh. OK?"

Without waiting for any reply, she continued "Your bras need to be plain as well." She held up a T-shirt bra in the style that he was to purchase. "You'll find them really soft and because there's no lace they will give you a smooth outline." She could see from his frightened expression that he was aware that the underwiring, together with the moulded shapes, gave each cup a breast like appearance, even without them being filled.

"I can't wear a bra like that," he protested. "The cups will stick out! Everyone will see them!"

"Not if you keep your suit jacket tightly buttoned, darling. They push flat, see, if there's no filler there? It's only for four weeks anyway." 

Before he could argue further she went on to say, "I'm allowing you to buy white bras so that they are less obvious through your blouses. But really you should have pink to match your panties and if you keep coming up with objections I will cross out white and write pink. But you will be wearing a white camisole on top of your bra - see, like this one? It looks a bit like a man's vest, doesn't it?" Emma held up a white cotton camisole which had spaghetti straps. Other than its colour, Simon could not see any resemblance between the camisole and a man's singlet. What's more, the top was contoured to fit around breasts. Simon was growing increasingly afraid of what the next few weeks would bring.

"And I'm allowing you to wear black tights," she added. "You won't be wearing any socks but these will be less obvious around your ankles than lighter coloured tights. See, I am doing all I can to make it easier for you!"

"And these are the sort of blouses I want you to buy," she said, pulling one from a wardrobe. "I wear these in court and they look very similar to men's shirts, don't they?" He looked at the example she held up but could see few similarities. The buttons were on the opposite side to a man's shirt, the body had pleats in it to provide shape for the bust, and the sleeves were only three quarter length. Also the collar had a decidedly unmanly look to it.

"But you originally said I only had to wear underwear. That's outerwear."

She paused for a few seconds and stroked her chin. "I suppose it is," she agreed, "But since you will be wearing it UNDER your jacket I could argue that it is actually underwear. What do you think? Would that argument stand up in a court of law?"

Responding to his grimace, she reassured him, "With a jacket and tie, no one will know that this isn't a man's shirt. Just keep your jacket on and you will be fine."

"I really can't do this. Please Emma," he pleaded.

"Sorry, darling, but you must! At least you must if you want us to start anew in four weeks' time. I've explained the alternative to you." She paused, and noticed the tears welling in his eyes again. "Listen," she explained. "This is all in the mind. If you act sensibly, keeping a jacket and tie on at all times, keeping your jacket buttoned, not exposing your ankles, not allowing people to catch a view of your back if your jacket is too tight, not sticking your chest out, not using the urinals at work, and so on, no one is going to find out. It will be our secret. I don't want you to lose your job, darling, so I'm not making you reveal to the world that you are a transvestite. Of course I'm punishing you, but it's more of a psychological punishment than a physical punishment. Just act sensibly and you will survive the next four weeks. And if my theory is right, you will be cured of your addiction to wearing my underwear and will never wear it again. You have to trust me, darling! You have nothing to fear, but fear itself - do you know that Franklin D. Roosevelt is credited with first using that expression?"

He didn't know that, he didn't believe the message it conveyed and he didn't care who had first said it. But he nodded to her in resignation.

"Right," she said, looking at her watch. "It's now midday. I want you to take the bus into town and buy all the items on the list. The shops don't close until 6 so you have ample time to browse around - no excuse for buying the wrong items."

"But aren't you coming with me?" he protested.

"No, darling, I've got my own shopping to do. You'll be fine on your own. There are a lot of big department stores and any one of them will stock everything you need. You'll be spoilt for choice."

"But ... but ... but ... what do I say to the assistants?"

"You don't need to say anything. You know your sizes. I don't expect you to need to ask for help, although you can if you want."

"What about at the check-out? What will the girl think."

"She'll probably think you are very generous boyfriend buying presents for his girlfriend. What does it matter what she thinks? Her job is to sell clothes, and not to ask questions to satisfy her curiosity. Now off you go!"



A Misunderstanding Ch. 03



The shopping trip was every bit as bad as Simon expected. He spent so long browsing in the lingerie section of the first store, trying to pluck up courage to select the items he needed, that he was approached by an assistant who asked if she could help. His reply of "No, I'm just looking" made him sound like a pervert so he hurriedly moved out of that shop and into the one next door.

Learning from his mistakes, he decided to be more decisive in the second shop and quickly selected a pack of five cotton bikini-style panties, in pink and in his size, which he dropped into his shopping basket. Wasting no time, he moved along to the bra section and then to the racks holding the bras. Even amongst the white bras, the choice was bewildering with masses of garments in different sizes and slightly different styles - some underwired, some not, some seamless, some not, some with front fastenings, some back fastening, some strapless, some multiway, some conventional. It took several minutes, during which time his anxiety levels went sky-high and he felt himself panicking, before he spotted bras in the right design and sized 38C. 

He picked one up to make sure it was right. Then he nearly wet himself when there was a tap on his shoulder. Turning quickly around, he was horrified to see James standing there, someone in the same football team as him. "What ... what are you doing here?" Simon nervously inquired. 

"You're asking me what I'm doing here?" responded James. "I could ask the same of you. But it's my girlfriend's birthday next week so I buying her some sexy lingerie." He delved into his basket and pulled out a lacy red bra with a matching thong and suspender belt. "What do you reckon?" he asked.

"Lucky girl - lucky you!" Simon replied in all honesty. James looked at him and clearly want to know what he was doing.

"Er, I'm also buying lingerie for my girlfriend. It's her birthday soon," replied Simon, wondering how crimson he had gone.

"It's a bit plain, isn't it?" said James. "She won't be pleased when she sees what you've bought her. And pink knickers!" Uninvited by Simon, James had reached into his basket and pulled out the pack of briefs. "Not only boring, but a different colour. Women like to have every matching - and things that are really sexy. You're making a mistake with this lot, Simon. You'll end up in the dog house. Let me help you choose something."

"No," replied Simon, deeply concerned with how the conversation was going. "She wears this sort of stuff to work. I asked he what she wanted for her birthday and this is exactly what she wanted. I said it's really dull and I wanted to buy her something more glamorous but she wouldn't hear of it. She said she had to have this plain stuff and that we should be saving all the money we can for ... er ... for when we get married. So I've no choice but to buy her this, James."

"I didn't know you were getting married - you've kept that quiet! I hope she wears something sexier than this under her wedding dress," laughed James.

"Don't tell anyone we're getting married - it's still a big secret and you're the first to know," explained Simon, worried that this news might leak back to Emma.

"Mum's the word, mate," said James, putting a finger on his lips. "I'll leave you to it." 

Simon breathed a deep sigh of relief as James moved away in the direction of the cash desks. Quickly, Simon put three T-shirt bras of the right type into his basket before moving on to the camisole section, all the time keeping an eye open for anyone he knew and particularly James. Choosing the camisoles was easier and slightly less embarrassing for him. And once in the basket, they covered the panties and bras.

The three blouses were next and choosing those was a real challenge. There were a lot of white ones, but with most of them he knew that it would be impossible to disguise their femininity, even under his suit jacket and a tie. He eventually found three that might be suitable. They were cotton and of plain appearance without any extra embroidery or lacy bits although each was shaped to fit a female figure and had four vertical pleats at the front, two each side of the midline. He checked the buttons were on the left hand side, as required by Emma, and also that he would be able to wear them a tie with them. The sleeves were three quarter length but that couldn't be helped. 

Finally, he picked up a pack of black pantyhose in his size. He now had everything he needed apart from the pantyliners which he decided to get from a pharmacy on his way home. Wasting no time, he hurried to a check-out desk, choosing one staffed by a more mature woman who, he thought, was less likely to ask him questions.

How wrong he was! The middle-aged assistant proved to very chatty. "Afternoon, love," she said, as started to pull the items from the bag. "Oh my, you've got a lot here, haven't you. Not for you, are they?" she laughed. "Sorry, love, I'm only joking!" she added.

He could have kept quiet, but he felt obliged to say something. Thinking on his feet he replied, "For my wife. She's been ill. She's better now but has lost a lot of weight and her old clothes don't fit any more. She asked me to get this lot for her. It's really embarrassing." He tried to make a little laugh but it came out as a snort.

"Yes, it must be embarrassing, love. Not many husbands would do that - mine wouldn't. It would have been less embarrassing for you if she'd ordered it online, wouldn't it?"

"Yes," he replied, "I'll tell her that for next time."

The assistant went through each item checking the size. "Oh! This bra is a 36C but the other two are 38C. Have you picked up the wrong size, love?"

Going red, he responded, "Must have done."

She handed it to him. "Go and change it while I scan the other items."

Wishing the ground would swallow him up, he walked across the store carrying the 36C white T-shirt bra and then, having swapped it, came back with a 38C. When he arrived at the check-out the assistant was chatting to a young women who had joined the queue behind him. "They're not his, love," she felt obliged to explain. "He's getting them for his wife." In a whisper she added, "She's been ill and lost weight."

Perhaps the assistant believed his story but it was evident to Simon that the other customer most certainly didn't. He glanced at her and she slowly shook her head, giving him a sneer of disapproval.

Relieved to get out of the shop, he set off back to Emma's house, stopping en route for his pantyliners. He had already worked out that he would say they were for his wife if asked. However, it seemed that it wasn't unusual for men to buy pantyliners so the purchase was uneventful.



A Misunderstanding Ch. 04



Simon arrived home and was immediately required to show his purchases to Emma. She examined each item carefully while Simon waited, dreading the thought that he would be sent back to exchange something. "Good," she announced. "These are just right so let's hope they fit!"

"But before you try them on, there's a few things I need to say. I think you might need all the help you can in the next four weeks," explained Emma. "If you disobey my instructions you know what will happen, don't you? I will kick you out, darling - that very day! Don't think I don't mean it because you have seriously upset me."

He nodded, no doubting what she was saying.

She continued, "So to help you, I'm going to set some rules to remove any temptations that you may feel to disobey me. Firstly, we are going to throw out all your male underwear, your socks and your work shirts. I've already put them all in this bag." She pointed to a black bin bag on the floor. "That way you won't be able to substitute your female clothes for male ones. That will keep you on the road to success, won't it, darling?"

He swallowed deeply. "But I thought I only had to wear the female clothes at work? What will I wear at home?"

"You must have misunderstood, darling. You need to wear the lingerie 24 hours a day if the aversion therapy is to work. And, as I've just explained, we don't want male clothing lying around that might tempt you to break your side of the bargain. You understand my reasoning, I hope?

Her logic was sound but that didn't make the idea any more comforting. All the same, he just nodded.

"Secondly, I want you to cut up all your bank cards and blank cheques, and to give me any cash that you have in your wallet." She passed him a pair of scissors but she could see consternation on his face. "Don't worry, darling, I won't rob you but I don't want you feeling tempted to go out and buy male clothes. Who knows, you might leave here to go to work in the morning, and on the way buy a man's shirt, socks and underpants and then change on the way to work. I don't want that to happen because then you will fail your test and we won't be able to wipe the slate clean in four weeks' time. You must try to understand, darling, because it's for your own good. Every morning, I will give you 10 pounds in cash. Every evening, you will give me back what's left along with receipts for any money you have spent. Understood?"

"Yes, Emma," he replied, conscious of how the net was closing in on him. He did as instructed, took out his wallet, and then cut each of his bank cards and cheques in two. Emma picked up the wallet, removed his cash for safekeeping and checked the compartments of the wallet thoroughly for any hidden cards or cash. Satisfied, she handed it back with a nod.

"And finally, Sarah will keep an eye on you while you're at work. That..."

Emma's flow was abruptly interrupted by Simon. "Sarah," he shouted, "You don't mean Sarah Jones?"

"Yes, darling - Sarah Jones. Your old girl friend. The one whose underwear you used to wear until she found out."

"But she hates me!" retorted Simon. "She detests me!"

"Well, are you surprised after what you did? ... I'm not. Anyway, it's useful that Sarah works for the same company as you - that was how you met, wasn't it - so she will do spot checks on you."

Simon was fuming. "I don't want anything to do with Sarah."

"But someone has to check up on you, darling. Who knows, you might decide to take off your bra and camisole as soon as you reach the office. Someone has to make sure you are wearing them at all times. When I phoned her, and explained what I was doing and what you would be wearing, Sarah said she was VERY willing to help."

"You've phoned her?!" burst out Simon, unable to believe what he was hearing. "This was meant to be our secret - that's what you said."

"How was I to get her to do the checks if I didn't speak her? Do stop to think before you open your mouth, Simon! Anyway, Sarah already knew that you liked to wear female clothing, darling," explained Emma. "If she had wanted to, she could already have told the people at work. No, darling, you are worrying unnecessarily - again. She was really positive about the idea so she's on your side, to make sure you come through this successfully. Sarah will just do some discreet spot checks a couple of times a day to make sure you are dressed as required. No one else will know. If anything, their dirty minds will think the two of you are back together and that you are being unfaithful to me. All of these checks are only there to make sure that you successfully complete your punishment - and you do want to do that, don't you darling? I have to know that you are not deceiving me because that would not be the right basis for our future relationship. So it's much better that we have these rules to make sure that you can't deceive me."

"I understand," he reluctantly replied.

"Good, now I've got some presents for you!" She picked up a shopping bag from the coffee table and pulled out two nightdresses. They were a simple design but made of a very silky looking white satin. She held one up against him and it came down to his knees. "That's a nice length," she commented.

Delving once more into the bag, she pulled out a cardboard box from which she extracted two foam objects. It took a few moments for it to dawn on Simon what they were. "They're to go inside the ... er ... my bras, aren't they?" he cried out. "You promised me that there would be no fillers."

"You misunderstood me again. I said that I wouldn't be sending you to work with breasts that stick out. I never said anything about what you would do outside the office. Please stop arguing with me because it's getting very tiresome - that's all you've done all day. Any more arguments, and you will be wearing them to work as well, with Sarah checking up." She looked at him to see if he wanted to continue the fight but he looked totally dejected.

Fishing into the bag once again, she pulled out a razor and a large tube of Nair. "Lingerie and body hair don't go together, darling. I want you to read these instructions carefully and then go into the shower and remove all your hair from the neck down. And I mean ALL. OK?"

His look of horror spoke volumes. 

She gave him a quizzical stare. "OK ... on second thoughts, perhaps not all of it." After a long pause, and just as his face was starting to relax, she added, "I want you to leave a landing strip of pubic hair - you know what I mean, don't you," she teased. He turned crimson but maintained his silence.

"And you will remain hairless and neatly trimmed for the next four weeks. I shall make regular checks. Understood?"

"Yes, Emma," he replied in a weak voice.

"Off you go, and then report back here naked for your first inspection. Remember to read the Nair instructions very carefully!"

It took him about an hour to remodel his pubic hair into the shape of a runway and to remove the rest of his hair. Some bits were very difficult to reach and he hoped he'd not missed any. But he was quickly sent back to the shower when his landing strip was judged too wide and also because he still had some hairs around his anus. Only thirty minutes later did he pass inspection.

"Good girl, darling" praised Emma, smiling. He blushed at being referred to as a girl.

"Now you've done it thoroughly, it should be easy to keep yourself hairless and neatly trimmed. Next, I want you to get dressed so we can see what you look like - panties, bra, camisole and tights. Don't forget your pantyliner."

She watched him intensely as he got dressed, noticing how aroused he became. "My, you do like lingerie, don't you! It's going to take the full four weeks to cure you, I think."

He was admonished when he tried to put his bra on by putting it around his waist, doing it up at the front and then twisting it around before hoisting it up. "That will stretch it, silly! Is that what you've been doing with my bras? Put it on properly - you've watched me enough times."

It took a couple of minutes fumbling with his hands behind his back before he managed to get it done up. He also needed some lessons in putting on his pantyhose otherwise he was likely to ladder them. However, he got there eventually and stood in front of Emma wearing his pink panties, black pantyhose, white bra and white camisole.

After circling around him, and making one or two adjustments to his bra straps, she announced herself satisfied and proceeded to insert a filler into each of the cups. 

She stood back to look at him, and signalled with her hand for him to do some twirls. "WOW!! You look fantastic, darling. Your underwear fits perfectly and looks really great against your hairless body."

He was still visibly aroused but felt extremely embarrassed standing in front of Emma dressed like this. His predicament was made worse by her being fully dressed. He saw her take her mobile phone from her handbag and felt nervous about who she was going to call. The sudden flash took him by total surprise as she used the phone to take his picture. Before he could react, the camera flashed a second focussing on his face. As he moved his hands to cover his face, a third flash showed she had photographed his bulging panties. She laughed, "Well, no one can say you were forced into this against your will. The enjoyment you feel is clear for all to see."

"What are you going to do with those?" he asked, knowing what the answer was likely to be. "Insurance," she said, in a matter of fact way, but confirming his suspicions. "If you cause me any trouble at any time, these will be posted on the internet."

"Now slip your blouse on, please" she instructed.

He struggled to do up the wrong-sided buttons. "That will come with practice, darling," she assured him. "But it's a good fit," she said, "you have nice taste. You will definitely need to keep your jacket buttoned up at all times, darling, because I can clearly see your camisole."

"Just a few more rules," she informed him. "You will change your underwear, including your camisoles and tights, daily but your pantyliners three times a day - when you put your clean panties on in the morning, at 4 PM every afternoon and at bedtime - keep the used liners for me to inspect. Your blouse will also be changed daily. Nightdresses you can wear for two days. You will wear panties and bra 24 hours a day, even when you are in bed - change into fresh ones before you shower each morning. You won't sleep in your tights but you will wear them at all times except when in bed. You don't need to wear a camisole except when you're in the office or unless I tell you otherwise. Your breast fillers will be inserted as soon as you get home from the office each day and kept in until you leave for the office the next day. Obviously at weekends they will be kept in at all times. I've already given you advice about how you dress in the office but it's up to you how you cover up, or not, at home. A serious breach of the rules at any time will result in you packing your bags and leaving my house immediately. Minor infringements - and I really mean very minor - will be punished with corner time." She rattled off the instructions and overwhelmed him with information. 

There was so much he wanted to say that he didn't know where to start but before he could ask questions she held up a hand. "Don't say anything because I'm fed up with having to argue with you all the time. I'm going to go and prepare dinner for us. You are going to go back into the corner to get a further taste of what happens if you commit a minor infringement. Do I need to tie your hands behind your back or will you behave yourself in the corner?"

He so much wanted to protest about how she was treating him but he knew that he would lose any argument. "I'll behave myself," he replied, before clenching his teeth. "You can stand in that corner," she said, then I can keep an eye on you while I cook." Still dressed in his underwear, with the blouse on top, he went and positioned himself. He stood there for the next hour until dinner was ready. "Slip on some jeans while I serve up," she announced.



A Misunderstanding Ch. 05



That evening, after dinner, they watched a film together until bedtime. Occasionally, they held hands but never more. It was at bedtime that Simon discovered that he was no longer to share Emma's bed. "We need to get this four weeks out of the way," she had explained. "I just wouldn't feel comfortable sharing a bed with someone in a nightie, wearing knickers and a bra. It would be like sharing a bed with another woman. You do understand, darling?"

He wasn't happy to be kicked out of the double bed yet it wasn't a big surprise. Maybe in a few days she would come round to the idea of them sharing again, he thought, but it was not to be and he spent the entire four weeks in the spare room.

To give a day-by-day account of what happened over that four weeks would bore the reader. All the same, it is important that the reader understands the intense pressure that he was under during that time, so I will describe some of what happened so that the reader can share his discomfort and begin to appreciate his problems.

Simon found that being in the office was an awful ordeal. At all times, he had to keep his suit jacket on and buttoned up. This raised some queries from his work mates, who were used to seeing him in shirt sleeves. But Simon knew that just the act of unbuttoning his jacket could reveal the feminine cut of his blouse and its vertical pleats. What's more, he knew that the camisole covering his bra was clearly visible through the thin cotton of his blouse and no way could it be mistaken for a men's singlet. Also, despite Emma's assurances that without fillers his bra would compress, its moulded construction gave it a natural springiness and it only compressed when subjected to some gentle pressure. This pressure had to be provided by keeping his jacket buttoned at all times.

He also knew that he had to be very careful when bending down not to stretch his jacket across his back because he was sure that his more inquisitive colleagues would soon detect the outline of his bra straps. His pantyhose also presented a problem and he had to teach himself to avoid sitting in a way that would expose his ankles to view. And, never for one moment could he forget he was wearing a bra, such was the tightness of the garment around his chest. Emma required him to wear a bra almost 24 hours a day, the only exception being when he showered each morning. When he took his bra off, he was always amazed at the redness and prominence of his strap marks and wondered how long they would take to resolve once his four week punishment period was over. He had come to understand why girls were often so anxious to remove their bras at the end of the day and why he had never yet met one who slept in her bra. In the office, he had to continually control his desire to tinker with his bra straps to provide some temporary release from the pressure. 

And to compound his problems, having to wear a camisole and pantyhose, as well as a buttoned-up jacket, made him feel really hot and sweaty. He told his puzzled colleagues that he was suffering from a virus which made him feel cold but feverish. Whether they believed him is a matter of conjecture, but it certainly meant that most of them played safe and kept their distance from him as a precaution in case he passed something on.

Because of all these problems, Simon was uncomfortable at all times and didn't suffer from the arousal problems that he always encountered when dressing in private. The pressures he faced made it difficult for him to concentrate on his work and twice he was reprimanded by his boss for mistakes she had found.

He was fortunate to have his own office which was entered from the typing pool. At least when the door was closed he could relax a little although he always had to be on guard for someone entering without knocking. And one person who always entered without knocking was Sarah who had been asked by Emma to do periodic checks on Simon. Usually, she would enter his office leaving his door wide open. He would be sitting facing the door and she would then move behind and rub her fingers gently across his back. This brought giggles and whispers from the typing pool who put a romantic interpretation on this gesture but Simon knew that all Sarah was doing was feeling for his bra and camisole straps. She would then discreetly pull up his trouser leg to confirm that he was still wearing his pantyhose.

Two or three times a day, Sarah would make these routine checks but two or three times a week she went further and would summon him to the filing room. Having checked they were alone, she would lock the door from the inside and issue her instructions.

"Right, Simone," she might say, feminising his name, "Take off your jacket and tie. Then unbutton your blouse." Simon would do so immediately, knowing the consequences of the slightest hesitation, but even after practice the wrong-sided buttons on his girl's blouse still caused him to fumble. "Quickly, we don't have all day, Simone" she would hiss. Then, when he was standing there exposing his camisole, she would say, "Are you still wearing your bra? Lift up your camisole." He so wanted to say to her that it was self-evident he was wearing his bra, but he knew that he had no choice but to follow her instructions. With his camisole raised, she would then put her fingers under his bra straps, checking for tightness, and sometimes tweaking a nipple.

"Right, camisole down and then trousers down, Simone" she would order. Without delay, he would do as he was told and stand before her revealing his pantyhose over his pink panties. The relative privacy, and her humiliating tone of voice and choice of words, usually turned him on and he would find himself embarrassed at showing major signs of arousal in her presence. For her part, she would always pretend ignore what she saw but, in reality, she found humiliating Simon in this sadistic way was also a turn-on for her.

"Simone, lower your tights to your knees so that I can check your pantyliner." Sometimes, she would just feel it through his panties but other times she would demand he lowered his panties to show that it was properly in place. She would then take the opportunity to check that he was keeping himself hairless and his landing strip trimmed. If it was after four o'clock he would be required to produce his old pantyliner from his jacket pocket as proof that he had changed it as required. It was very humiliating, but also a big turn-on for Simon.

Once satisfied that all was in order, Sarah would say something like, "Good girl, Simone. You can get dressed now." She would then immediately unlock the door and leave the room forcing Simon to hobble over as fast as he could, with his pantyhose around his knees, to relock the door before someone else entered. Breathing heavily, he would then get dressed and go back to his office, aware of the stares and whispers from the girls in the typing pool. In the fourth week he was called into his manager's office and she gave him a written warning that he was to desist from carrying out an affair in the office and during working hours. One more warning and he would be sacked, she told him.

Sarah would look for any reason she could to get Simon into trouble and, if there was no reason, she sometimes made one up. Almost every day Emma received one or more text messages from Sarah with cryptic messages such as "S grumpy today" or "S had button undone" or "S very excited". On arriving home, Emma would dispense summary justice based on what she had read and was never interested in hearing Simon's side. Most evenings he would spend at least an hour doing corner time, stripped down to his underwear, and usually in the kitchen where she could keep an eye on him.

One evening, he had been in the corner for about 30 minutes when the door bell rang. He immediately tensed as Emma said, "Don't you dare move!" She went to the front door and he heard muffled voices which became louder. Then he heard Emma say, "Yes, he's in here." He found himself trembling and Emma walked into the kitchen accompanied by someone. So frightened was he that he couldn't help but release some urine from his bladder. It wasn't much, but it soaked his pantyliner and drenched the front of his panties.

"What's he doing standing there?" a voice asked - a voice which he now recognised to be Sarah's. He relaxed a little because at least it wasn't a complete stranger. 

"He's being punished, Sarah," explained Emma. "I'm exercising zero tolerance and he gets punished like this whenever you send me a text to say he's misbehaved."

"That's good to know. How long does he have to stand there for?" enquired Sarah.

"Tonight it's for one hour but it can be longer or shorter, depending on how good he has been."

"Well, it must be working because I've noticed that he's getting quicker when I tell him to do something. Do you think he knows how pathetic he looks, dressed like a girl and being punished like that?"

"Even better, at home he has to wear breast forms."

"Really! I'd love to see but I don't want to interrupt his punishment."

"Don't worry, Sarah, I can always reset the clock and make him start again. Turn around darling so that Sarah can see your girlie boobs."

Reluctantly, and with trepidation, Simon turned around. Both girls immediately noticed the wet patch on the front of his panties.

"Oh my God," exclaimed Emma. "He's wet himself." 

"Either that or he's jerked off," Sarah responded.

"Which is, Simon?" asked Emma.

He swallowed hard and replied, in a quiet voice, "Sorry, Emma, I wet myself. I couldn't help it when I heard you coming into the kitchen with someone."

"You dirty girl," hissed Sarah, and she stepped forward and slapped him across the face so hard that he nearly fell over. 

"Hold on, Sarah," said Emma, "I can deal with this."

"You won't let her get away with that, will you?"

"No," replied Emma, her voice very solemn as if she was really disappointed with Simon. "How could you do that, Simon? It's only 7 o'clock but you can go straight to bed without any dinner - lights out straight away. Keep those panties and tights on and don't wear your nightie. You can spend an uncomfortable night sleeping in your mess. You can repeat this corner time tomorrow evening - doubled as an extra punishment. Go and get out of my sight!"

"Is that all you're are going to do?" asked Sarah in a disbelieving tone, once Simon had disappeared. "I'd have caned his backside if I were you. I'll do it for you if you want."

"No, Sarah," replied Emma, "That's not my style. I prefer psychological punishments rather than physical violence. He's suffering, don't worry."

And so his punishment continued, relentlessly, day after day, as he completed his four weeks. Office hours were filled with persistent stress, with Simon always expecting his secret to be revealed at any time. Weekday evenings seemed to be largely consumed by corner time punishments for trivial offences, or else helping Emma with the domestic chores. Only at weekends could he relax and, even then, he effectively grounded himself because he had no desire to go out in public wearing his breast forms. He was rather relieved that Emma didn't insist on this.

Perhaps Emma was right when she had explained to him that the continual wearing of female underclothing would become so second nature that he would no longer become turned on. During weekdays, particularly when in the office, he was so on edge that he seldom became aroused despite always being aware of his feminised status. In fact, it took the combination of his lingerie and verbal humiliation by Emma or Sarah to produce any response. Only at weekends, when he was alone in the privacy of his home, could he relax and saviour the pleasure of his lingerie but even then there were times when he wished he took take it off and become a "real" man again, able to go to the pub with his friends, or join in a game of football. 

Emma provided encouragement throughout, interspersing discipline with praise, telling him how well he was doing when he made no mistakes. Once he'd passed the half-way point, she started to count down the time saying something like "Only two weeks to go, darling." Then it was only one week and then it was into counting days. "You're doing really well and there's only 4 days to go before your punishment is over."

Eventually, Friday came, the last day of his punishment. Emma inspected him as he got ready for work. "Not long now, darling. When you get home from work your ordeal will be over. You'll have served your sentence and we can put your past mistakes behind us. You will have a clean slate. How does that make you feel, darling?"

"Wonder!" he replied, feeling a sense of relief. "Absolutely wonderful!"

And so he completed his last day at work, with Sarah still carrying out her routine checks. He saw her sending a text, presumably to Emma, and wanted to tell her that she was wasting her time. By 6 o'clock it would all be over - no more corner time and no more of being forced to wear feminine clothes to work.

As he got off the bus and walked the 200 yards to Emma's house he felt a big burden was being lifted off him. He couldn't wait to get back into Emma's bed and make love to her. It had been a month and he was sure she must be as desperate as he was.

He turned the corner and saw the house ahead. But outside the house, in the front garden, was a large yellow container. As he got closer, he saw it was a rubbish skip and it must have been delivered that day. As he got closer still, he was shocked to see it was half-full of black plastic bags. Panic started to set in and he desperately clawed at one of the bags to see what was inside. It was full of DVDs - his DVDs! He tore open another bag, which he found contained his spare suits and his shoes. A third bag contained his book collection. 

Unable to take in what was happening, he rushed to the front door, pulling his key from his pocket as he went. He fumbled as he tired to insert the key in the lock. It only went in half-way and wouldn't turn. He realised the lock had been changed. Overcoming a wave of nausea, he started banging heavily on the door, crying out for Emma. After a couple of minutes, the door opened slowly by just a few inches, held in place by a security chain. Emma peered through the gap.

"What the hell's happening?" shouted Simon. "What are you doing?"

Emma adopted a puzzled expression. "It's the new start I promised you, darling. Don't you remember?"

"WHAT? What the hell are you talking about!?"

"Your punishment has been completed and the slate is wiped clean, darling. We are now both free to start our lives again."

"But you said that after four weeks all would be forgiven and we would start afresh?"

"No, I think you must have misunderstood me, darling. At no time did I ever say that you could live with me again."

"You're kicking me out?" he screamed. "But why didn't you just kick me out in the first place - why put me through this ordeal, you bitch?"

"Do calm down, darling. That sort of language won't help at all, will it? If you recall, I did want to kick you out - I even offered to pack your bags for you - but you made it clear that you would rather be punished first."

"You never said that you were going to kick me out anyway! Why didn't you tell me that?" He was absolutely furious with her.

"As I said, darling, you misunderstood what I said. Or perhaps you interpreted what I said in the way you wanted to? You heard what you wanted to hear."

"What the hell am I going to do now, you f*****g bitch? You've put all my stuff in the skip."

"The skip isn't being taken away until Monday, darling."

"Stop calling me 'darling', you devious cow!"

"Sorry, I thought you liked it when I called you darling. You should have said before. Anyway, you have all weekend to remove your stuff from the skip before it's collected although I wouldn't waste time if I were you because it may rain tomorrow."

"Where will I put the stuff?"

"I don't know! Why didn't you plan this out in advance?" She gave him a look of exasperation, as if talking to an idiot. "Oh, sorry! - it's because you misunderstood me, isn't it?"

"And where's my money gone?"

"Your money is still in your bank account, Simon. I've not taken your money - in fact, I've subsidised you for the past three weeks but you needn't pay me back - at least not straight away. You can go and get your money out of the bank."

"No I can't," he retorted. "You cut my cards and cheques up!"

"No, Simon, YOU cut them up - with hindsight, rather a silly thing to do under the circumstances." She gave a little smile and nodded her head.

"What am I going to do?" he exhorted.

"You'll need to get new cards from the bank, Simon. ... Oh, I forgot, they're closed until Monday, aren't they?"

"I can't believe you've done this to me," he wailed. "Please take me back!"

"No way, Simon. As I told you, this punishment was designed to ensure you never wore my underwear again. Only by separating from you out will I make sure of that! You didn't really think that a month of wearing lingerie would turn you off the idea for life, did you?"

He shook his head in despair. "Look, Emma! Please help me. I've not no money and nowhere to go. What am I going to do?

She rubbed her chin, pretending to think hard. "Well, you could always give Sarah a call. I have a feeling that she would have you back for a few weeks - but on her terms though!"

With that, Emma gently closed the door, leaving Simon to collapse on the door step, his head in his hands and tears streaming down his face. In desperation, he reached for his mobile phone.

THE END