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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. bursa escort 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.” bursa escort bayan 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 escort bursa 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!”
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