Misunderstanding
- 2 years ago
- 11
- 0
A Misunderstanding - Part 5 free porn video
A Misunderstanding - Part 5
By undiecontrol ([email protected])
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
Fay
- 10.09.2022
- 6
- 0
