“Whose are these, Mr Benson? You naughty man!” Hannah, my nineteen-year-old cleaner, was standing in the doorway of my lounge. She had a wry smile across her face, and her right forearm was pointing upwards, as was the index finger of her right hand. And dangling from the end of that finger was a pair of pale-yellow panties. “They were under the bed,” she explained, “showing I do clean under there, despite what you might...

Following Hannah's visit on the Saturday, I slept fitfully that night but still awoke the next morning with a strong erection. It wasn't long before I spilt my seed into my hands, as I excitedly remembered the way she had humiliated me the day before. But, as I came down from my climax, sanity began to return. Being dominated by her had been mind-blowing, yet, deep down, I knew that being submissive towards Hannah wasn't...

It was Saturday afternoon, and I was now alone in my house, Hannah having left. The buoyed up feeling I'd had in her presence had dissipated, and I knew that it would be a week before I saw her next—and therefore a week before I would be unlocked. How would I, someone addicted to self-pleasuring, cope for a week? I had absolutely no idea! But I did know she would be keeping tabs on me. For a start, she was now expecting m...

Hannah had become envious of my expensive silk underwear, allegedly because it was better than what she was wearing. She had cajoled me into agreeing to buy myself plain, high-waisted, white cotton panties, such as many women wear. And, to add to the “fun”, she had also decided that I should wear a bra inside the house. My sensible suggestion that we purchased my new underwear online had been rejected out of hand—she had...