The Hotel Transform Stories

The Best Laid Plans Of Wimps And Men.
Part Three
By Deborah Ford

1.

David wiped the dinning room table as hard as he could. Each wipe
making the table shine briefly before it inevitably grew dull and
dusty again. He was using a cloth dampened with warm water and
certainly dust initially appeared to vanish as if by magic. Yet by
magic it all reappeared again.

He slapped the cloth down and straightened, pulling his shoulders
back to balance on the heels, the firm control body sensuously
tugging at his groin. “Oh bloody hell and damn!”

It was all was so exasperating. He had rubbed himself up and down
the leather sofa for nearly half an hour totally deliriously lost in
his need to cum and then when the pleasure of the build rose to an
absolute need to explode he struck a wall of frustration.

Now the table refused to be cleaned. He was thwarted on his every
action. Nothing was going right.

The musical dinging of the door bell washed away the self pity.

He held his breath and peered out into the hall. Sue enough he could
make out the shadowy figure of a male wearing dark clothing through
the opaque door glass. Shit! He flung himself against the wall, his
breathing became shallow. Had the intruder seen him?

Leaning back against the wall he became aware of his tiny buds of
breasts jutting out and the definite arch between his rounded
protruding backside and the small of his back. Women’s clothing
changed the contour of the body and the attitude to it.

The doorbell donged again. He closed his eyes, whispering, “go away,
go away.”

He feared the man had seen him through the opaque glass and would
now remain at the door until it was answered.

It was an age before he heard a van start up at the front of the
house and was able to skip down the hall to the safety of the front
room. The post van bounced down the drive before disappearing through
the gates.

He sighed with relief. This was ridiculous. His wife had trapped him
in his own home.

He lifted the cap from his neatly brushed hair and wiped the thin
layer of sweat from his forehead.

Slumping on the sofa, feeling the curious sliding motion as his
silky trousers met the slippery leather, he leaned back and found his
hand pushing down between his wanton legs. “Oooh.”

He smiled, his shoulders relaxing as he engaged in the single
pleasure left to him, even though he knew it led to agonizing
dissatisfaction he felt compelled to rub. “Aaargh!”

He spread his legs wide feeling his knickers dampening. Yuck! Precum
spurted into his underwear and was held in place as a tiny
uncomfortable sea around his imprisoned groin.

The tights pushed the creamy fluid up against his body producing a
horribly clammy sensation.

If only she knew how he suffered. He recalled many years before how
Sue had complained at being turned on in college or at work by some
powerful man then and having to spend an hour or so walking around in
sopping knickers. At the time he laughed at her but now here he was
experiencing her exact discomfort. No wonder women keep spare panties
in their handbags.

There was nothing more for him to do other than check the list in
the office for the next housekeeping chore. Once again he found the
merest act of walking heighten his sensuality. Every smooth item of
his apparel slid over the one above or below it, erotic torture. How
could girls get through the day with out continuously wetting their
pants? It seemed to him to be a conspiracy by men to keep girls
highly sexed. Now the moist groin ensured he could not forget his
predicament.

He ticked the first duty, tidying the kitchen and hesitated before
ticking cleaning the dinning room table. Well he had tried to hadn’t
he? But he laughed out loud at the next item: clean the bathrooms. He
shook his head, how long does it take to put the toothpaste back on
the shelf?

By working hard he knew a day of watching golf beckoned, albeit with
the uncomfortable desires pulsating in the uncomfortable chastity
belt. A victory at last!

2.

It was just after lunch when Sue crashed through the front door
leaving it open.

“David, David?”

She felt her mouth stretch into a smile as David emerged from the
dinning room with a duster in his hand. “Oh David. Good.” With
satisfaction she noted his hair lay neatly brushed beneath the cap.
It made all the difference to his appearance. He had been turned from
a slob into a neat, well-groomed office assistant. She felt a smug
flush of self congratulations. “I can see you are busy. I like that.”

“And I have done the downstairs toilet and shower room and tidied
the kitchen and ..”

She waved her hands making her bracelets tinkle, “ok, ok I’ll
inspect it all later.” She smiled. “You know what Tom had warned me
about this morning? He said,” she adopted a deep gruff voice, “‘oh
he’ll just sit on his big fat lazy arse all day.’” She kissed him
gently on his warm cheek. “I am really pleased. I could have brought
him home and impressed him with my managerial skills.”

David winced. Her managerial skills? What about his own industry?

“Now then darling,” she rubbed her palm down his silky blouse,
“where is it?”

He looked up at her, nonplussed waving the feather duster like a
wand. They were about the same height but her heels were a couple of
inches higher and made a huge difference. “Where’s what darling?”

A cloud darkened her face. “You didn’t go back to bed after I left?”

He laughed ironically, “what good would that do me if I can’t play
with myself?”

She grew suspicious, “but you could have gone back for a sleep. I
know how lethargic you can be.”

“Well I haven’t!” he pouted. “How do you think I sorted the kitchen
and cleaned the …”

“Then where is the package?”

“What package?”

“The one the delivery man brought. It was important. Tom told him to
deliver it here because he knew you’d be at home.”

“Ha.”

She put her hands on her hips, “what’s ‘ha’ supposed to mean?”

“Look, I can hardly be expected to answer the door dressed like
this!” He flapped his palms showing her his tight fitting, silky
outfit.

She shook her head, her eyebrows knitted, “Why?”

“Why?” he spluttered. “Isn’t it obvious? I can’t let people see me
like this!”

“Why!” She clenched her fists but kept her voice even as instructed
by her wise boss.

“Because … well I look …”

“You designed the outfit!”

He blushed, examining the weave in the carpet and spoke quietly,
“for the girls in the office. To make them look good.”

She raised his chin with her hand, “so they can stand in the offices
welcoming our clients all day but if you are dressed in it you can’t
even answer the damn front door?”

He licked his lips, a tingle of fear tormenting his stomach. He
needed her to remove the chastity belt and he needed to be allowed
out of the uniform to play golf. His very existence lay in her hands.
“I am sorry. It’s just that …”

She marched back to the open doorway picking up a note posted in the
hallway. She read it aloud. “Sorry we missed you today. Your parcel
can be collected at our local office!” She ‘grrred’ like a tiger in
his direction. “You have really set me up! What is Tom going to make
of me? I agree to have the parcel delivered and my stupid husband is
too shy or self conscious or most likely bone idle to answer the
bloody door!”

His mouth opened and closed but no words were forthcoming.

“Make me a coffee. I need to think about this. Tom will be so angry
with me. I am going to look like a big zero in his eyes.”

“I’m sorry …” with that he watched her disappear into the
downstairs bathroom apparently disinterested in his apology. He knew
she was particular about her coffee and this would have to be the
best coffee he ever made. He laid out the instructions for the coffee
machine on the kitchen counter. His hand shook as he flattened the
old pages.

Her scream told him not even the finest coffee in the world was
going to save him.

She stood outside the bathroom zipping up her skirt. “You were told
to clean that at ten fifteen this morning!”

“I did!” he shouted back.

She pushed open the door. “Look! Is the toilet cleaned?”

“You clean the toilet?” he swallowed.

Her pink lips fell open. “Oh my God. Who do you think cleans the
toilet? The magic fairy?”

“Please darling I didn’t know you cleaned that. I mean inside that.
Yuck!”

“And the shelves? They need to be dusted!”

“Oh right. Yes. I forgot about the …”

“And the bath needs to be cleaned? Don’t you know anything?”

He hung his head with self-pity. His chances of escaping the belt
were fast receding.

Seeing his shoulders sag calmed her. He looked so pathetic. “Ok ok,
you are still learning. But darling this is a catalogue of errors and
stupidity. You can see that can’t you?”

He nodded, his eyes still fixed downwards.

“Ok, go to the car boot and bring in the staff uniforms please.”

Now he did brave a look at her. “Staff uniforms?”

“You can’t wear that get up for the rest of the week can you?”

“All week!”

Closing her eyes she said, “don’t repeat everything I say. The way
you are going it’s going to take you all week to clean one bathroom.
You’ll need a fresh uniform every day. I don’t want my staff coming
in wearing the same clothes as the previous day. I am setting high
standards every where I go, Tom says so.”

“I, I,” he felt his cheeks flush and his knee hooked in front of the
other, girly fashion. He wished again to have pockets in which to
stuff his hands. “I don’t really want to go outside.”

She wriggled her short tight skirt straight. “We are in the middle
of the countryside. The quicker you are out there then the quicker
you’ll be back in here. Now where’s my coffee?”

“I didn’t finish making it. I heard you scream and …”

“Heavens above! Am I to employ you and still do everything myself?”

She stamped into the kitchen aware that she needed to be back at the
office with Tom for a meeting and that she still had the package to
pick up.

He raced out side as quickly as the low heels would allow. The
gravel tended to slip the heels one way then the other. He was
convinced he would end up breaking his ankles. He opened the boot to
fish out the polythene bag encased uniforms. They were crisp and
bright in the shiny translucent plastic as if they had just come from
the dry cleaners.

When he returned carrying the crunching bags of clothes she
commanded him to get upstairs and change.

“Yes Sue,” he replied breathlessly anxious to show how ‘good’ he
could be.

“I’ll pick up the package and try to save us from your incompetence.”

He swallowed, “right. Good. Thank you.”

“The aprons are in the small blue bag.”

“Aprons?” he paused in mid step on the stairs glancing quizzically
back at her.

“If only you could think ahead like Tom! Yes aprons. Obviously when
you are cleaning or cooking you could get mess on your fresh clean
uniform!”

She tutted as if he were a simpleton while he found himself nodding
dumbly. “Ah.”

“Tom says there has been some changes to the design. Some silly tart
called Tabitha has redesigned them.”

Tabitha! David stood on the stairs. She was an absolute slut. He
quickly checked and felt himself shake with relief when he saw that
there were trousers in the bag not some tiny skirt.

“She certainly would not be the girl I would leave in charge of any
design. How could you have employed such an airhead tramp?”

He shrugged. “She wasn’t like that at first. She was a bit mousy
when she first started.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “Mousy! She behaves like a
complete tramp.”

“She sort of changed within a few months of joining us.” He felt his
explanation sounded lame, despite being true. He noted that Sue
nodded and looked thoughtfully away.

Sue appreciated how Tom’s masculine presence and demeanour could
induce a change like that in a weak headed girl like her. She carried
her coffee into the dinning room. “David!”

He had barely laid the bags on the bed when he heard his wife’s
demanding shout. With just time for a quiet groan he made his way
down to the dining room.

“What has happened to the table!”

Gritting his teeth he saw how the afternoon sunlight illuminated the
greasy wipe marks. This was too much! He stamped his foot. “I don’t
know how to clean tables and toilets and everything else!” His eyes
grew warm and he knew tears weren’t far away. Nothing was working out
for him.

“Ok baby, ok. It’s all right. I know.” She placed her coffee on a
coaster and held him tight. “I didn’t mean to shout. Ignorance isn’t
a crime.”

Ignorance! He felt her hands slide over his back and melted into
her. “Oh Sue, Sue.”

Giggling she pushed him away. “Later darling. I can see you are
trying and really want to do well and that counts for a lot. There is
a pile of Housewife’s Journals in the cupboard under the stairs.
You’ll find everything you need to know in that.”

He used the back of his hand to wipe the single tear that appeared.

“Including how to clean a table. You need polish.”

“Yes Sue.”

“Ok. I’ll leave the coffee for you. You go and sit down and read a
couple of issues. There should be a section on making beds too. Its
not as easy as it looks is it?”

“No Sue.”

“No. So I’ll get this package from collection and then maybe
everything will be all right. Ok?”

“Yes Sue, thank you Sue.”

“And don’t forget to be wearing the new uniform when I return!”

“Yes Sue. Of course Sue.”

3.

Housewife’s Journal is a thick magazine with more adverts than
content but full of useful tips for housekeeping. It assumes no
knowledge and little competence asking only that the reader precisely
follows the instructions. It offers detailed guidance with tasks
ranging from the simple, such as putting cutlery in the proper tray
in the correct drawer to the complicated such as arranging cushions
in a sitting room or flowers in a vase.

There was an index at the rear of the December issue so he urgently
ran his finger down to dusting and polishing. It led him to a an
picture of a red lipsticked woman of about forty called Jennifer
smiling up from the page offering the reader an image of the perfect,
confident relaxed housewife. David read quickly through the advice
delighted to learn of special products for dusting the table and a
particular cloth impregnated with wax for polishing. Jennifer’s
advice was to complete the dusting and polishing before vacuuming the
floors as there was a danger of knocking crumbs onto the carpet. It
all made sense.

“Wow!” He could not believe what he was reading. “Mirrors need to be
polished once a week or twice if the room is particularly busy.” He
shook his head, surely once polished it would remain clean all week.

With his coffee finished his mind was full of practical tips such as
playing a danceable CD whilst doing the house work, (helps you keep
moving); to always stand back and allow yourself to admire a cleaned
room, (give yourself the reward by seeing the fruits of your
labours); to clean dishes as you use them, else you build up a lot of
clutter on the kitchen surfaces which detracts from the cleaning. All
this seemed very wise. Indeed Jennifer was a fighter against clutter
in any part of the house making David feel exactly the same. The
husband would perceive the house to be cleaner if the housewife could
keep the clutter tidied away.

Jennifer’s many commandments still swirled around his head when he
reached the bedroom ready to tidy up the bags of uniforms he had
trailed in from his wife’s car.

He pulled the slinky material from the bag in a rush of sizzling
sound and laid the first uniform across the end of the bed.

“Oh no, Sue!”

The blouse had puff sleeves and appeared even more translucent than
the one he was wearing. He could see the detail of the bed quilt
through the gauzy material and noted with surprise how they were
joined between the legs like panties with a blouse stitched onto
them. They could only be worn by pushing the legs through first and
then pulling up the sleeves. What a crazy design!

If they were not a huge indignity the trousers most certainly were.
Rather than being side-fastening they were rear-fastening, worse they
secured with an ostentatious golden zip that hung down like a
decorative broach.

He had always found neatly attired office staff to be sexy and was
determined to talk Tom into paying for the highest quality fabrics.
Somehow it felt as if he had thrown a boomerang at a target, turned
his back and then had the boomerang strike him on the back of his own
head.

Trust Tabitha to choose such a sexy design.

He stripped down to his body toner and tights before sliding the
translucent blouse from its hanger. He had to step into it, wriggle
it over his hips and waist, pass his arms down the short puff sleeves
before he could hook up the tiny white buttons. The trousers slid up
his legs as if they were gliding over the tights like a subtle
hovercraft whispering inches from the sand.

A large button latched the waist behind his back crushing his
stomach. He had to hold in his breath whilst the button fastened
home. As he dragged the zip up he felt the garment stretch flat over
his crotch. Not a male bulge in sight. He caught his reflection in
their bedroom mirror what appeared so sexy on the girls at work now
had become a sensual prison of whispering silks and stretching lycra
at home.

At the bottom of the bag were a pair of zippered ankle boots with
two inch stiletto heels. He groaned, recalling how he had wanted them
for the girls outfit the moment the sexy rep from Office Uniforms had
been shown him the catalogue.  Fortunately the girls had voted
against the five inch heels he argued for. They had told him how
difficult it would be to wear two inch spiky heels all day. He felt
relief in them choosing the two inches over the high heels he had
argued for. Indeed the two inches already looked like a pair of
towers.

The silken interiors of the leather boot skidded over the lycra of
his tights and shimmied sweetly into a secure pleasant fit as his
heel pushed home.

He wondered if Tom played a part in Tabitha’s choice of uniform.

He pulled up the rasping zip and rose to study himself in the
mirror. He twisted in each direction, an action he had observed Sue
carrying out when examining herself in a dress. He could now see why.
The clothing squeezed him into a tight, neat sexy package. The
swelling from the waist gave him rounded girlish hips and arse. He
arched his back slightly as he stood side-on to the mirror. He knew
that he would admire a neat feminine arse such as that. His tummy
tingled as he realised what a red blooded male would see if he caught
sight of him from the rear.

The heels forced him to stand perfectly erect, pushing out the tiny
‘a’ cup shapes from the body yet at the same time it styled the arse
into a balancing bulge behind him.

It was a bizarre, fresh experience yet strangely exciting.

Walking carefully downstairs he headed for the office for his
remaining afternoon chores. The tv played through the open door. The
golf was starting. For a moment he hesitated catching sight of the
first pair heading for the tee but with a sad shake of the head he
continued onto the office and the afternoons tasks.

4.

Leaning back against his desk in his locked office Tom took a long
draw on his cigar. “So he delivered the package, but didn’t actually
get to see that stupid sissy?”

Tabitha shook her head.

“Shame. I’ll think of something else. The sissy needs to be seen by
others. Let him get used to his new position. Take care girl! I felt
your teeth.”

Tabitha mumbled her apology.

“Jesus I thought you were supposed to be trained in all this sort of
stuff.”

She nodded her head.

He laughed. “So you and your cuckold sissy husband were executives
before you got involved in this club.”

She nodded, letting his cock slide from her mouth with her saliva
and his precum mixing into a glutinous web between them. “I’m afraid
Spiky and Brand don’t deal with pleasuring men. Oops!” She realised
she allowed his cock to slip from her mouth and horridly returned it
to rest on her soft tongue.

“Wait, wait,” he eased her head away from him. “Spiky and who?”

Wrinkling her nose she shrugged. “I am not supposed to talk about
them.”

“But your husband wasn’t a French maid before meeting them was he?”

She giggled. “No. But it’s all a bit of a secret with them really.
They have their own methods.” She craned her chin foreword to accept
his dick.

“Hang on, hang on. And you were head of some big finance chain until
you met them, this Spiky and whoever.”

Her mouth closed as her eyes scanned the pictures of Tom collecting
business awards lined up around the walls. She held his cock lightly
between her fingers. “I’m not supposed to talk about it. Sorry.”

“Get me their number.”

She pulled her mouth down. “I can’t hand out Spiky or Brand’s
numbers.” She shivered. “Oh dear not, they would not like that.”

“Then give them my number. Ok don’t look at me like that. Tell them
there’s a job I want them to do. Tell them there’s money in it. I
know what motivates men like that.”

Tabitha was about to correct him when she felt his cock slide into
her mouth. She lapped her tongue around his dick wondering whether to
explain it all to him but he was already lifting up his phone.

He dabbed out a few numbers on the phone. “Bob? Hey. It’s me. Yeh,
things are looking up here to!” he glanced down at the dutiful
Tabitha and winked. “I was just wondering if you’d heard from Davy
lately.”

She noticed a malevolent sneer on his lips before closing her eyes
to concentrate on the first office duty of any office girl: to please
the boss.

5.

At eight thirty Sue crashed through the front door gasping for her
white wine. “Better be chilled.”

David grinned brightly. “It’s on its way.”

Moments later he delivered a glass of wine balanced neatly in the
centre of the silver tray to his exhausted wife.

She giggled, “I could get accustomed to this.”

“Good.” David said smartly. That afternoon there had been no time
for golf on the tv. So whilst he carried out his chores he had
daydreamed of a future of lush greens and tree lined fairways, and of
the green baize glowing in a dark drinking hall echoing to the sound
of clicking pool balls. Jennifer recommends housewives should
daydream, even enjoying naughty daydreams whilst performing household
tasks.

The end was in sight.

“I know I’ve seemed harsh on you darling,” she said flipping off her
heels so they fell to the floor ruining David’s uncluttered sitting
room. “But Tom is such a stickler for staff presentation and makes a
big deal about the work ethic. And all your actions reflect on me.”

David stood before her nodding. For the first time in his life he
was hesitant about knowing what to do. Should he sit next to her?
Ought he walk away and finish the chores? Should he reply? He decided
silence was the best policy.

“Oh this is gorgeous,” she sipped the drink and mmmmed as if it were
replenishing her energy. “Honestly there is so much to do in work.
I’ll check your contributions later,” she smiled.

“Uhm … shall I start cooking the meal?” he noted her cautious
smile so smartly added, “I have found a recipe.”

“You’ve read a recipe?”

“Yes,” he replied eagerly.

“Are you sure?”

He felt like a child being gently questioned by a suspicious adult.

“Yes of course. It was in Housewife’s Journal”

She let her head loll back, “well it has to be better than last
night’s.”

And it was.

David lapped up her compliments, despite knowing they were being
oiled by the copious amounts of alcohol she was consuming.

“I can’t get over this lamb,” she announced.

Suddenly David wished Tom could have been here to hear the
accolades. “And the table?”

“Eh?” She stared at him with the fork frozen at her lips.

“I laid it out as it says in Housewife’s Journal.” She continued to
state at him. “So that the knives and forks and spoons are all neatly
arranged. It is called fen show.”

She giggled, “feng shui airhead. But I know what you mean and it is
appreciated. It looks really good.”

He felt a gust of confidence, “you are supposed to set the table to
achieve a pleasant balance for the diners.”

“I know that too darling. Excellent,” she said slowly before
frowning. “Listen. I don’t know how you are going to react to this
but I think it’s a good idea.”

David rested his chin on his hands as he listened. His clothes
tightened around his groin sending his mind into an erotic giddy
orbit. “Oh?”

She searched her mind for the words. How could she put this to him?
“Well you can’t be locked away ad infinitum, you know, not being
allowed to cum can you? I mean it probably isn’t even healthy.”

“No,” he gasped, “exactly.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “I knew you’d understand. You have Tom to
thank for this,” she added.

Suddenly he was worried. There was very little for which he could
thank Tom. In fact it seemed to him that Tom exacerbated David’s
situation, ruining his entire golf playing scheme.

“I told him how incompetent, I mean, lacking in domestic skills you
were. Oh don’t look so shocked! David, I was angry with you this
morning.”

“I know but …”

“And I said how I didn’t think you could ever get out of that
chastity belt of his. Not if you carried on like that. I mean we
girls learn how to do the chores over a lifetime. We help in the
kitchen as little girls and then do a little more around the house.
Boys are oblivious to housework. And to be honest its best it stays
that way. Men haven’t got a clue when it comes to cleaning.”

He sat up straight with the trousers snapping into his groin. “And
Tom knows that is not fair. Right?”

Her nose wrinkled as she probed her lamb with her fork. “No, not
exactly. He really stood up for you! He said how it would take you a
while to learn all the domestic skills necessary for one in your
position …”

David winced at that line.

She continued, “… but how the firm hand of someone in command like
me would soon knock you into shape.” She smiled benevolently. “See?”

He cleared his throat. A heavy rock thumped into his stomach. A
feeling of dread rolled over him.

“Anyway that was when he came up with the idea of punishments in
lieu of you being locked up.”

He swallowed. “Punishments?”

“Oh don’t look so worried,” she flipped an inebriated hand in his
direction. “Come to the down stairs office and I’ll show you his
brilliant idea.”

He rose to his heels and swished after his wife as she led the way
to the office. Standing in the centre of the room she offered a hand
up to the wall chart year planner.

“So this is how it works,” she picked up the blue ‘today’ sticker
and placed it over today’s date before selecting a red square she
stuck over tomorrows date. “The board is smooth plastic so these
sticky labels can be stuck on and peeled off to be moved. See how it
works?”

Yet again he wished he had pockets to slide his hands into. Instead
he held them behind his back. “Uhm not really.”

“Ok. You never were fast on the uptake. Blue sticker for today and
the red square represents the day when I tell Tom whether you have
been good or not. And if you have been, then he brings around the key
to unlock you.” She smiled drunkenly at him. “Now do you see? Why do
you look so shocked? You want to get out don’t you?”

This was too much horror to absorb. “What! You mean you tell him
whether I have been good or not?”

“Well he is your boss and as he keeps reminding me, you are my
responsibility.”

He flapped his mouth for a few moments until the words emerged. “He
has the key to my chastity belt?”

She laughed, “it seemed odd to me at first, but when Tom explained
it carefully it all made sense.”

“In what way!”

“Now don’t shout!” she cocked her head to one side flashing her blue
eyes at him. “That is just the sort of behaviour which will lead to
that red box being moved down another day.” Seeing his fear she
immediately rubbed it in. “Or maybe more than one day! Who knows?”

David shook his head. His cute submissive wife was standing before
him full of menace like some street thug. He needed to make a stand.
“Now let us all hang on a second here. I think we are losing our
bearings. I need to get a few matters straight.”

“Of course Davy.”

“First of all have you got a key to this chastity belt?”

“No.”

“Is the key in this house.”

“No.”

“In your car?”

She shook her head as if commiserating with his realisation.

He collapsed into the office chair. “So what if you wanted to
release me tonight. Suppose I had been,” he swallowed at the
humiliating words, “suppose I had been ‘good’.”

“Ah well, we were both agreed, that is Tom and I, that your
behaviour this morning was tardy and reprehensible so no way was that
going to happen.”

“But you can’t just discuss this with someone else. Especially him.”

“Now you be careful what you say about Tom because I think he has
been very fair to you.”

“Fair! In what way!”

“If you shout at me again I will have no alternative other than to
move that square down a day.”

He glanced at the board feeling traumatised. “Another day?” he
whispered under his breath.

“Exactly. That was when Tom said that you could buy back days or
half days with alternative punishments.” She beamed at him, awaiting
his reaction to the ‘good news’.

Folding his puff sleeved arms under his budding ‘A’ cup breasts he
closed his eyes and spoke evenly, “so what does the super kind
considerate Tom say about ‘alternative punishments’?”

Perching on the edge of the desk she leaned forward, her hands
flapping urgently. “Well, first, they should vary in severity. But it
means that you’ll be allowed to come. And don’t forget I have needs
too, tiger!”

“Yes,” he reasoned, it was not in her interests to keep him chaste
and soft all the time. “That’s true.”

“I knew you’d understand. So here’s how it works. Tom and I will
draw up a list of suitable punishments for you …”

“Tom and you!” He emphasised Tom but somehow it all seemed
inevitable. Fairways and golf clubs were receding like melting ice
under global warming. His main aim was not merely to gain release
from the chastity belt but to avoid one of his wife’s and Tom’s
‘alternative punishments’.

“Yes. I mean stuff like sending you to bed early …”

He gripped the arms of the office chair so hard it swung on its
pivot. “But that’s demeaning!”

“More demeaning than being locked away in a chastity belt by your
little wife?”

He didn’t have an answer to that.

“See,” her face lit up, “Tom is ever so clever. I always thought he
was just some big macho alpha male oaf but actually he is really
sensitive to the needs of others. He spent an hour with Tabitha in
his office day discussing his requirements of her. I know he spends a
lot of time thinking about our situation here at home too. That’s the
sort of guy he is.”

“Glad to hear it,” he remarked, relieved she had failed to notice
his sarcasm.

“Exactly. So I can send you to bed early, make you get up early.
That might not be a bad idea. Stand you facing the wall …”

“What!”

“Let me finish!” she gasped, ” please do not interrupt. I am you
boss remember? Anyway standing against the wall is better than
standing facing the corner isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Shall we try each position in turn and you can
tell me?”

He bowed his head. “Hum, no Sue. Please tell me you are joking.”

“Oh if you think I am joking about standing in the corner or facing
the wall then you won’t believe the best bit.”

It was a moment before he could bring himself to ask, “and the best
bit is?”

“Well suppose you have been really naughty. I mean like to day for
example.”

He hated hearing himself described as naughty but let it go, “yes?
And?”

“Well then, sending you to bed or making you stand in the corner, or
write lines …”

“Write lines! I am 27 years old!”

“Will you listen? All I am saying is that none of those punishments
would be particularly harsh.”

He froze. Time became a rock on the beach, unchanged for an eon. He
felt the heat of her enthusiasm, and caught the inexorable logic in
her eyes. “So?” His heart thumped.

“So I cane you.”

He wilted in his chair, feeling the shiny material of his clothes
slide him lower. She had spoken the words as if they were the
defining obvious solution to a long held problem.

“Well I have the choice of all those canes from the tomato plants.
You never did get round to planting them did you? And it means you
can buy back a day.”

He raised his eyebrows. “So if I,” he swallowed, “stood in the
corner for ten minutes, “then you will bring forward the day of
release or even instantly release me from this awful contraption.”

She wrinkled her nose, pushing her lips up one side of her face.
“Sort of.”

“Sort of.”

“Mmmm, sort of. What happens is,” she screwed up her face thinking
it through. “if you had been good. Like tonight for example then I
would ring Tom and tell him that you have been a good boy or that …”

“A good boy. You are going to say your husband has been a good boy
to your boss?”

“He owns the company we both work for!” She pointed out. “Don’t
forget that. I am your manager but he is above us both. Anyway, so I
tell him you have been a good boy or that if you are naughty that you
have been punished in such and such away for being badly behaved in
such and such manner.”

“Oh God!”

“Will you stop interrupting? Then he decides whether to release you
or not.”

“He decides!”

“Well he is your boss!”

“I thought you were my boss!”

Pursing her pink lips she sucked air in through her teeth as she
looked up at the ceiling. “Well I said that, but he pointed out that
he was both our bosses. My boss and yours. Which sort of made sense,
you know when you think about it. Anyway that all means he should
make the final decision.”

David felt hot tears rising in his eyes.

“Oh baby!” She rushed over to him, embracing his silky top and
rubbing her palm over his back. He feels so gorgeous, she found
herself thinking. “Oh consider the situation Davy. As Tom pointed
out, because I am your wife I might be too soft on you and then where
would we be?”

As soon as he was pulled into a tight cuddle he began weeping. He
just couldn’t help it.

“Oh baby don’t cry. I am sure it’s for the best!

He crossed his smooth trousers, one leg over the other to get closer
to her. With the belt confining his wily and balls between his legs
it was now much easier to tightly cross his legs, indeed it felt
comfortable. “But I have worked so hard around the house!” he
sniffed. “I did both bathrooms and I cleaned the toilets and you said
the dinner was nice!”

She squeezed him, “I know baby, but you were ever so naughty this
morning.”

Her gentle fingers played through the fine material sending electric
waves of pleasure tingling through his body. He groaned and Sue
giggled, “oh is my poor baby so hot?” She had never before seen a man
lie back with his eyes closed in sexual submission. She had
associated men with control and initiative yet now she was able to
make him whine and whimper as if he were a young slut in the hands of
an experienced lover.

She stopped and rose to her stockinged feet as her husband slid to
the floor in a stupor of swirling carnal desire.

It took minutes before he could pull himself together sufficiently
to kneel before her and look up with his most pleading eyes. “Darling
I cannot take it any more. I’ll stand in the corner, do anything.
Just please get it off. I must cum.”

She wrinkled her nose in thought, “I don’t know.”

“You did like the dinner and the way I laid the table.”

Her eyes widened thoughtfully, “that’s true.”

“And I did good dusting and hoovering.”

She nodded lifting the phone, “I wonder what Tom will say?”

“Oh fuck Tom!”

“Oh Davy! Get to bed this instant! You naughty boy! That’s our boss
you are talking about!” She slammed down the receiver.

Davy found himself taking the stairs like a stiff automaton, still
lost in his erotic fever.

“And don’t you dare go to our bedroom. The spare bedroom for you.
Naughty boy! Oh my words, if Tom had heard you saying that about him
then what on earth would he think of me? How can I be the boss if you
are going to speak like that about the owner?”

Stripping off only the shoes, blouse and pants Davy crawled into his
bed still wearing the body and tights, too washed-out by defeat and
misery to remove them. He fell into a tear laden exhausted sleep of
dark nothing.

6.

The slamming of the front door pulled him from his deep sleep
leaving him staring at the ceiling like a compass needle spinning to
get a bearing. He sat up with a start as Sue’s car engine roared to
life. He needed to be downstairs. He glanced down at his crotch and
let out a long, “yeeeugh!”

His white crisp body was tainted a dull grey around his crotch with
a stain that spread like a country on an atlas up to his belly. He
had been leaking cum all night.

Still delirious with sexual hunger he stripped, showered and was
quickly dressed in a new outfit Sue had laid on his bed. As usual he
wore the tight little white panties, the sheer black tights with the
bottom lift and tummy control, a fresh clean white body toner that
was even tighter than the previous one. He stepped into the
transparent blouse and tugged up a pair of stretch lycra trousers
that closely constrained his hips and groped at his backside. The
oversized zip tinkled behind him.

He slipped his feet into the heeled boots and zipped them into
place. Securing the belt about his narrowed waist he took a forlorn
look at himself in the mirror. For all the world he could have been
one of the office girls, with only the lack of make up giving him
away as a man. Less of a man he mused more of a sissy.

He pulled the ruffled apron over his head tickling his neck before
pulling it tight into a neat bow at the small of his back. He then
brushed his hair and put on his hat.

He minced carefully downstairs using his arms to help balance
himself in his short spiky heels to make his way to the office for
the daily list of chores. His new life had begun only a few days
previously but already it felt like a life time.

The neatly typed chores form was identical in appearance to the
previous day save it being more densely packed with tasks to be
performed. The major difference lay in the note scrawled over the top
of the paper in Sue’s spidery hand. It read: ‘I am still cross with
you for what you called Tom last night. I think,’ and then the word
think was crossed out, and the word ‘demand’ scrawled above it,
“demand you write an apology to Tom in your best handwriting.’

“What!”

His voice echoed through the empty house. He shook his fists in
sheer rage. “You bitch!” he shouted before gulping and turning to
check the house really was empty. He held his breath waiting for a
reaction from Sue. For long seconds his ears hummed to the silence of
his home until at last he realised he had been fortunate. No one had
heard him

Feeling relief overwhelm him he settled into the office chair. He
needed to be careful when he spoke to her. Sue had always been an
irrational woman and everyone knew what happened to women with a
little bit of power – it went straight to their heads.

Rationalising his predicament brought a smile to his face. Maybe he
could control the situation.

It was at that moment he looked up and his jaw dropped achingly
open. The blue Today box had been moved into place over today’s date
but the red box had now slipped a further three days away. He was
being punished with four days abstinence for yesterday’s outburst.
Four more days locked in the chastity belt for cursing Tom. This was
ridiculous.

His head span in shock. “Bugger”, he mouthed, not daring to shout it
out loud. He needed to get a grip. His world was sliding from beneath
his heeled feet. How did it get to this? His plan had been so
straightforward. His dumb bimbo of a wife would go out to work while
he played around all day. Days on the golf course lowering his
handicap, time for pool, for boozing and for chasing women. The very
least he could hope for a day spent wanking!

Somehow he needed to regain the upper hand. Whilst he set about his
house work duties his mind whirred away. Clearly Tom had not realised
how power crazed his wife would become. Typical of a woman he thought
as he wiped down the counter with a hot cloth.

Housewife’s Journal said always to use a hot cloth to clean kitchen
work surfaces and it was right. The grease lifted away when the cloth
was hot but remained stubbornly in place as the cloth cooled.

With the plates in the dishwasher and the pans scrupulously washed
he set about dusting around the light fittings with the feather
duster as per instruction three.

There was, as noted by Sue, a thin cobweb stretched over the hallway
lampshade. So it was whilst he was in the hall with dance music
playing on the CD, (as recommended by Jennifer in Housewife’s
Journal), that he thought through an answer to his plight. He could
ask Tom for his old job back. But was that defeatism? He would never
be able to get time on the golf course. By standing on his toes and
flicking at the spider’s trap with the feather duster he managed to
pull it like candy floss until it stretched and snapped.

It was at that moment that the doorbell clanged. As the electronic
dong echoed away he found himself smiling. They wouldn’t get him
twice with the same ruse. He grinned to himself as he opened the door
to the delivery man only for the smile to dissolve away into an
expression of sheer horror.

It was difficult to know who was more shocked, he on seeing Bob, Dan
and Arnie or they on seeing him dressed as he was.

End of part 3

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