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{Note: This is a chapter in a multi-part story series cataloging the progressive relationship between a dominant wife and her submissive husband. Each installment can stand alone, but they read much better if you start at the beginning. Go to: Erin Ch.01: Female Led Relationship. JQGraves}

Erin’s mother dropped me off at the house of Erin’s friend and co-worker, Michelle, on her way to the airport. Erin arranged for me to stay with Michelle until her return from a business trip in Asia in about five days. Michelle was to be my minder for those days. No, I might as well face facts. She was my babysitter for the next five days and nights. I’d never met Michelle, though I’d heard more than I wanted about her and her version of a woman-led marriage. So, I was surprised when, in contrast to my mental image of the woman as an ugly, evil harridan, she turned out to be a very pretty young woman.

I don’t know if you’re allowed to think of a woman as “cute” these days, but Michelle fits that description perfectly. She’s small, well endowed, with long blond hair, and an impish smile that lights up her face. Even her bright blue eyes shone with glee when she welcomed me with a hug and the promise, “We are going to have such great fun together!” I couldn’t help thinking perhaps this stay would not be so bad after all.

Once my in-laws drove out of sight around the corner, Michelle took my arm and led me into her house. “You can use Jasmine’s room while you’re here and she’s away. She will be so sorry she missed you. Erin and I must arrange a meeting between the two of you sometime soon. You could have a play day together. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

She gave me no time to respond to this statement, continuing right on with how much she loved the look of my figure in my high waist butt lifter and stretch jeans. I, on the other hand, was still stuck on the phrase, “a play day together.” I had no idea how to respond. A “play day?” In the context of the meeting of two grown men, what does that even mean?

My impression of Michelle expanded to include, in addition to cute, flighty. She kept up a constant banter, jumping from topic to topic, most of them playful, while she led me up the stairs, down the hall and into a bedroom, the sight of which stopped me in my tracks.

Jason… No, Jasmine’s room was a sight to behold. The wallpaper was pink and yellow, with unicorns and cherubs cavorting under a baby blue sky with cotton candy clouds. There was a dresser painted pink and a study table glossy white with a chair to match. The bed was a white four-poster with a lacy pink and white canopy, and the carpet was super plush in a very light pink. I hesitated to walk on it lest some dirt I tracked in from outside might cause an indelible blot. The spotless condition of the room amplified this concern. It was not just clean; it was so well ordered I found it hard to believe anyone had ever been in it before.

An attached bathroom was visible through a doorway at the end of the room. I could see no door to close off the space.

“Come in, come in,” Michelle said, pulling my arm. “Don’t you just love this room? It’s way over the top for me, of course, but Jasmine loves it and I’m sure you must love it just as much.”

She pulled the chair away from the table, which left a pattern in the high nap of the carpet. I noticed this and looked back the way we’d come in to see the prints of our shoes. These patterns made it obvious whoever was last in this room must have raked the pile as they backed out in order to keep the carpet in pristine condition.

“Put your suitcase on the chair, and I’ll help you unpack your things,” Michelle said. I was so distracted by my surroundings, I’d forgotten I was still carrying my bag. I lay the bag on the seat of the chair, and Michelle brushed me out of the way, unzipped and opened the bag. As my babysitter, she bağdat caddesi escort ignored my protestations that I could handle it. The first item revealed was the black satin bustier my mother-in-law packed on top. Michelle held it up to admire the pink piping and lace accents, then said, “Very sweet. Jasmine has a similar corset, but of course she is much smaller than you.” There was a touch of disapproval in the way she said that.

“Uhm, I’ve been dieting and going to the gym lately to lose some weight.” Not sure why I volunteered, or spoke at all, for that matter. It was just the abrupt transition of her mood from gay and flighty to censorious that put me on the defensive.

“Good for you, dear. I’m glad you told me; I would not want to see you lose ground during your stay here. We’ll keep that in mind so all your meals are light and low in calories.”

Michelle opened a drawer in the dresser that was full of frilly undergarments and arranged my corset and its matching bra on top. Once again, I was struck by how carefully every item in the drawer had been folded and arranged. Someone went to considerable effort to keep everything in this room in perfect order. I had a strong suspicion that someone was not Michelle. Would this be one of my responsibilities while I was here?

Michelle next lifted my punishment party dress from my bag. “Now this I recognize,” she said. “This is obviously the work of Beatrice Campbell. Don’t you just love her? She does such wonderful detail work on everything she sews.”

I’m smart enough to keep my mouth shut and I offered no comment. I was remembering Mrs. Campbell’s use of a springy, synthetic rod across my ass and upper thighs to “encourage me” to try to escape from her demonstration punishment dress after she tied my wrists high in back and used ribbons to hold the dress and petticoats up, uncovering my pantied ass. And no, I do not love that woman.

Michelle slid open the closet door to reveal a collection of childish dresses and slips arranged on hangers carefully aligned and evenly spaced along the closet rod. She took an empty hangar from a neat stack on the shelf above, and hung my dress in the closet after pushing the other garments down the rod.

The remaining items in my suitcase were various pairs of panties, and two pairs of shoes—the patent leather mary janes and the pink fuzzy platforms. Michelle looked through these and said, “You did not bring much of a wardrobe with you, but don’t worry, I’m sure we can get you into some of Jasmine’s frillies. The older things she wore before I got her down to her proper weight might do. Why don’t you take off that shirt and those jeans… just take everything off while I sort something out for you to wear.” I did not react immediately, and Michelle clapped her hands and said, “Quickly, girl! Don’t stand there gawking! I’ll have to talk to Erin about your training when she gets back to the office. She has obviously neglected teaching you the most rudimentary elements of courtesy and obedience.”

I knew this moment was coming before I ever entered this house, but I still hesitated to get nude. I’d only just met this young woman; we were standing alone together in what must be the most girlie room in the world, and she ordered me to strip. Recognizing the inevitable, I began to unbutton my shirt. Michelle gave me a dirty look and pursed her lips, then turned to the dresser and began sorting through Jasmine’s things.

I wanted to sit down to remove my shoes, but one glance at the perfectly made bed and the chair already occupied with my suitcase, and I turned my back to Michelle and knelt on alternate knees to untie the laces. As I rose to kick them off, a bolt of lightning burned its way through my balls and up the length of my cock. I screamed, dropped back to the floor, bağlar escort and curled in a fetal position around the searing pain in my groin.

“Oh, my, that does work, doesn’t it?” Michelle said and laughed like a girl with her first pony. She held the remote control to the electronic chastity cage I wore. The shock intensity was set at its highest level. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but I just had to know how effective it was. Think of it as punishment for your lack of courtesy to me.”

“C, courtesy?” I stammered, recovering slowly from the pain.

“Yes, dear, courtesy. You have yet to address me correctly. There’s been not a single ‘yes, ma’am’ pass your lips, and not even the hint of a proper curtsy.”

“I don’t understand. A curtsy? Why would you expect…”

“Just continue to take off those silly clothes,” Michelle interrupted. “Then we can set some ground rules and expectations for while you are here. You have thirty seconds before I shock you again.”

I wasted maybe a second and a half looking at her before I tore off my clothes. I did not want to ever again feel that bolt of electricity through my balls. Michelle stood before me, looking at her watch, counting down the seconds. “Twenty-five seconds, twenty seconds, fifteen…”

I stood before her naked at the ten-second point. I’d removed everything except the chastity cage itself. The shapewear slowed me some, but I was relieved I beat the thirty-second time limit.

“Eight, seven, six…”

“Stop! I’m done!”

“Four, three…”

“No! Don’t!”

“One.” She pushed and held the button.

I screamed and fell to the floor again. Even though I could see it coming, the shock was still surprising in its agonizing intensity.

Michelle took her finger off the button after about three seconds, which seemed like thirty, then stood there gazing down at me until I’d begun to recover, though tears still streamed down my face. “I warned you I was going to shock you again after thirty seconds. Learn from this, my girl. When I promise a punishment, I always deliver.”

She motioned me up off the floor and directed me to put on the clothes she’d laid out on the bed. There was a very brief thong, powder-blue, a shear pink tank top that came down to just above my belly button, a pair of hold-up stockings in the palest pink and a white miniskirt, tight around my waist and barely covering my bare ass with its blue streak up the crack. When I’d put it all on—without the hint of a complaint—Michelle pointed to a pair of pink, four-inch heels at the foot of the bed. They were a size too small, with heels higher than anything Erin ever put me in, but I managed to get into them. Altogether, it was a humiliating outfit. Much worse, I thought, than the simple panties and apron I was used to. This cute young woman, my babysitter, apparently intended to treat me in the same manner she treated her fully feminized husband. That was an ominous realization.

“Let me see you,” Michelle said. “Turn slowly.” I made one complete revolution, trying not to stumble from the unaccustomed height of the heels. “Lift up your dress,” she ordered. When I did so, she said, “There’s the problem. Your cage is causing a discordant lump in the front of your panties. Reach down and tuck your clitty and its little prison back between your legs, then pull up the thong to hold them in place. When I’d done what she said, I held up the hem of the miniskirt again and she said, “Much better. See that you wear it like that from now on.”

I looked down and saw that I was flat in front like a girl. There was no sign of my male package. The cage with its battery was uncomfortable shoved back and up against my balls, but that discomfort reminded me of the potential alternative if I did not obey my babysitter.

“Pick up your things,” Michelle said.

When I bahçelievler escort stripped for her, I let my clothes fall where they may in my rush to beat the thirty-second time limit and avoid a second shock through my balls. Foolish me. She’d never said she wouldn’t shock me if I accomplished the task in time.

“Put your undergarments in the hamper in the bathroom. You can wash them later this evening. Put your street clothes in your suitcase. You won’t be needing them while you’re here.”

I bent down to collect my things, conscious that my bare ass stuck out in the process, and Michelle said, “What do you say when a woman tells you to do something?”

“Yes, ma’am?” I said, looking up at her. She was still holding the remote.

“And what else?”

“Uhm, uh, thank you?”

“That would be nice, but no, I was referring to a curtsy. You do know how to curtsy, don’t you?”

“Well, no, not really… ma’am.”

“Oh Erin, what am I going to do with you?” Michelle said, gazing at the ceiling. Then back to me, “Right, girl, stand up straight and face me. Now, head down, eyes on the floor at my feet, skirt held at each side between thumb and forefinger, right foot back, knees bent, back straight and dip… Do it!”

I followed her directions and executed what I thought was a pretty good curtsey, although the heel of my right shoe got caught in the carpet when I moved my foot back. It was certainly a much better curtsy than I would have rendered before Michelle showed me what a jolt of electrons through my testicles felt like.

“Needs practice,” Michelle said. “So, from now on, I expect a ‘Yes, ma’am’ and a curtsy every time I, or any woman, give you an order. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. Michelle’s finger hovered over the shock button and I suddenly remembered and curtsied.

“In addition, whenever I enter a room where you are working, or when you enter a room I am in, you will curtsy, but hold your position in the dip, eyes on the floor until given permission to rise. Are we clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said and curtsied. What was clear to me was I was going to be getting a lot of exercise bobbing up and down over the next few days. And my babysitter had yet to tell me what “work” she expected from me.

“Hey babe,” a deep voice resonated from the doorway. Michael stood there leaning against the jam, arms crossed, biceps on display. I’d no idea how long he’d been there. I blushed at the thought of him—a real man in Michelle’s eyes—watching her put me into this ridiculous outfit and teaching me to curtsy. “Do you plan to spend the rest of the day with your new sissy?” he said. “It’s past lunch time.”

“We’re almost done here, darling,” Michelle said, smiling warmly at her man. To me, her manner was more terse. “There are cleaning supplies and a carpet rake in the closet down the hall to the left. Get this room back in order and come down and serve us lunch. I’ve done most of the work for you. There is a chicken salad mixture for sandwiches in the fridge. So, be quick, but do a good job. I always inspect this room before bed time—your bed time, that is—and there will be consequences for any faults in your work. As this is the day for your weekly maintenance discipline, I’m sure you will not want to earn any additional censure. You’ve got ten minutes.”

As I said, “Yes, ma’am” and curtsied, I watched Michelle give Michael a quick kiss and hand him my suitcase with my street clothes in it. Then he walked her down the hall. They were tucked in tight together with his hand on her ass and hers holding his belt in the back.

My balls still ached and my penis burned in its cage from the heartless treatment Michelle inflicted with that damned remote control. I cringed at the woman’s casual mention of weekly maintenance followed by room inspection. Did she expect me to get this bedroom back to the condition it was in before we entered? Was that even possible? I might have run for the exit were it not for the four-inch heels and the fact I’d get mugged or arrested for what I was wearing. The next five days living here under the thumb of my new babysitter were likely to be far worse than I originally feared.

END of Erin — 23

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