Around the time that agents Moore and Pires were following the Russians in Oxford Street, Kate Davenport was just a few blocks away in a lunchroom in Bond Street. She had been shopping all morning and almost arrived late for her appointment with Jasmine, her Canadian friend who was already seated at a table in the back. The two women hadn’t seen each other in ages, so the first half hour of the conversation was spent on catching up.

Jasmine was married to a stockbroker. Both she and her husband were of Chinese origin. They had moved recently, Jasmine was saying now, because they were planning to have a baby. When her husband had come across a brand new penthouse in the Docklands they decided to buy it. Kate listened and asked the appropriate questions, but the truth was that talk about babies and real estate usually bored her. Jasmine asked about Roger then and their home near Holland Park. How many square feet was it again? Were they thinking of selling it some day? When Kate didn’t really go into it, Jasmine switched to questions about her job. Did she still travel a lot? Kate shrugged and hoped it would suffice to say that too much traveling was very tiring. Jasmine nodded. She understood, she said, but of course she didn’t. Like everyone else she was under the impression that Kate worked for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. She imagined long flights, stuffy meetings in offices abroad and formal dinners with ambassadors and diplomats. Little did she know that Kate had just come back from Morocco, where she had killed two men.

They talked about shopping then. A better topic, Kate thought, because it gave her friend less opportunity to be nosy. Besides, both women had spent the whole morning in Westminster, Jasmine in the big shops on Oxford Street, Kate mostly in smaller boutiques. Each of them had come to the lunchroom with at least three shopping bags and now they opened them to compare what they had bought. Shirts, jeans, blouses and a pair of sneakers for Jasmine. Nothing special, but it made for a nice and superficial conversation.

After lunch, on their way to the Tube, the women went into one more shop. It was a small boutique that sold Italian shoes. It was Jasmine who had noticed the shop first, but once they were inside it was Kate who fell in love with a beautiful pair of Casadei pumps. Black patent leather and with a four inch heel, they were expensive of course, but when she tried them on, they fit like a glove. Jasmine liked them too, but said that heels like these would be too high for her. Kate bought the shoes and feeling especially happy with this last purchase she was ready to go home now. Tonight they had a dinner party in Chelsea, at Emma’s house, her dear childhood friend, and she couldn’t wait to wear her new pumps for that occasion. As she was wondering which dress would go well with these heels, they reached the Bond Street Tube station. Here Jasmine was taking the Jubilee Line to the Docklands while for her it was a short ride on the Central Line back to Holland Park.

Roger Winfield, Kate’s husband, had forgotten about their dinner plans. He’d had a busy week in the City and especially today had been very stressful. So at the end of the afternoon, when some attorneys asked him to join them for a drink, he decided that was exactly what he needed. They went to a pub in Fleet Street and had a few pints. Two at first, but then a third one just before he left. It was only when he was on his way home in the taxi that he realized he’d had too much to drink. As a result he began to worry about what Kate would say if she saw him like this. Hopefully he could make it to the shower without running into her. That would give him some time to freshen up.

His wife didn’t like it when he drank too much. Something to do with an alcoholic uncle in her childhood, who made a fool of himself at family parties. Roger never met the uncle, because the man had died a long time ago, but he doubted that he’d ever behaved like him. It didn’t change the fact though that Kate didn’t like seeing him in an inebriated state, so he’d prefer to avoid her until he had sobered up a bit. A long, hot shower might just do the trick.

When he got home he opened the front door quietly, almost like a burglar, and tiptoed up the stairs to the bathroom. He drank half a liter of water from the tap and splashed some in his face too. There you go, already feeling more in control of himself. He kicked off his shoes and took off his shirt. Then his trousers too, but when he wanted to step out of them he almost lost his balance. Holding on to the sink he told himself to slow down, but followed up on that insight with a loud burp.

‘God...’ his wife’s voice behind him said. He looked up and saw her in the mirror, the long, dark hair framing her beautiful face, but her eyes were on fire.

‘You forgot the dinner party at Oliver and Emma’s,’ Kate said. ‘And you’re drunk.’

‘Oh shit,’ he said and began to stammer some half hearted excuse. She just shook her head though and turned around. He tried to think of something to say that would make it better, but she wasn’t interested. She walked out of the bathroom and down the stairs. Roger looked at himself in the mirror and cursed. How could he have forgotten? Emma was Kate’s best friend and even this morning she had said that she was looking forward to seeing her. He looked at his watch and saw that it was half past seven already. At what time were they expected there? Seven o’clock, she had said this morning. Dammit, he’d made a real mess of everything.

He got dressed again in a hurry, but then smelled his shirt and stumbled into the bedroom to take a fresh one out of the closet. Other trousers too, now that he was at it. His socks, mustn’t forget to change them as well. In the end he also put on another pair of shoes, but then he was ready to go. He checked if he had his phone and saw that he had missed three calls from Kate while he was in the pub. Oh dear, knowing her she must be livid. When he came downstairs though she seemed calm. She was on the couch, watching TV. Christ, Roger thought, she looked gorgeous in the light blue sweater. Her legs were bare and tanned and a big part of her right thigh was visible because of the split in the black pencil skirt. He loved that skirt. And wait, were those new shoes? He pointed at the black pumps and asked her if she had bought them today. She didn’t even bother to reply.

‘Are you ready?’ she asked instead.

He nodded. She wasn’t calm at all, she was furious with him. He could tell from the tone of her voice.

‘Let’s go then,’ she said. ‘The taxi is waiting.’

All the way to Chelsea he felt like an idiot. Holding the bottle of wine she had handed him, he tried to apologize several times, but she wasn’t willing to forgive him yet. Also the beer didn’t sit so well in his stomach and when they were almost there another burp escaped from his mouth. Kate shook her head in disgust. He reached out to her then, placing a hand on her knee.

‘Kate, listen,’ he said.

‘Don’t you start, Roger Winfield,’ she replied firmly. ‘And take your hand off my knee before you make a ladder in my tights.’

Only now did he realize that her legs weren’t bare, but that she was wearing very sheer pantyhose, as he usually called them. As inebriated and bad as he felt, the realization awoke the fetichist inside him. Kate saw it too and said: ‘What? Are you looking at my tights?’

Roger felt himself blush. Normally, when they were getting along, they had fun with his kinky preferences, but now that she was angry with him and addressed his fetish, he felt ashamed.

‘You’re not touching my legs again,’ she said. ‘Not tonight and probably not the rest of the week either.’

She leaned forward and told the driver it was the building up ahead. As Roger paid for the taxi, Kate got out and walked up to the front door alone. She rang the doorbell and while he was still waiting for his change, the door opened and his wife went in. It was going to be a long night in the doghouse, he realized. Perhaps the most worrisome part of it was that his perverted side relished the idea.

Of course Kate and Roger were the last ones to arrive at the dinner party. The others had already finished their salmorejo, a cold Spanish dish. Roger apologized profoundly, telling them about an extremely busy day at work. They took a seat at the table after Emma had introduced them to the other couples. Bruno and Sophie from Paris and Max and Kevin, who lived in Fulham. If Roger understood correctly Sophie, Kevin and Oliver were colleagues, but he wasn’t really sure because the alcohol was still making his head swim. Besides, he hated arguing with Kate. It didn’t happen often fortunately, but when it did, it utterly confused him. Although he worked as an attorney in the City, Roger was a peaceful man in his private life. Someone who wanted to get along with everybody and especially with his wife. Being on bad terms with her made him feel nervous and unbalanced. What also confused him was the different attitude each of them had toward arguing. He was a natural appeaser who found it hard to understand that his wife wasn’t. Even in the very beginning of their relationship he had been aware of this difference, but when they began to move into BDSM-territory, it became much more clear cut. Not only when it came to sex was she the dominant one, but also in moments like these.

Most other couples would have talked and maybe yelled at each other before leaving home, but Kate had just looked at him in a cold way, as if he were some unworthy insect that she was about to crush. The crushing would come slowly though, evenly spread out over the evening. He knew, he’d been there before. She wasn’t going to give him one inch, which seriously unnerved the mediator inside him. Another essential part of him, his perverted side, felt thrilled though by his wife’s strict attitude. This of course was the difference between them and the other couples in the room. Roger looked at these people now and knew that, if they’d been aware of their argument, Kate might be seen as bitchy and Roger as a wimp. Perhaps they would feel sorry for him and although the hurting part inside him might have appreciated that kind of sympathy, he knew that he didn’t really deserve it, because on a deeper level it was all consensual and part of their kinky lifestyle. Sure, Kate was punishing him and sure, it confused and hurt him at some level, but at the same time the feeling of being overpowered by his wife was one of the best sensations he could think of. It was like entering a soft cloud of surrender, of giving up his ego that was always working, always struggling. Giving in to her power meant that the need for that struggle disappeared. It was similar perhaps to what religious people felt when they knelt down for God, but instead of giving himself to an invisible entity, he surrendered to the power of his wife.

Oliver poured them both a glass of wine and made a toast. Happy that you made it after all, happy to have you all here and to old friendships and new ones. Everybody cheered and took a sip of their wine. Roger too, although he was well aware that the last thing he was supposed to do tonight was drink more alcohol. Just one sip then, to be polite. The wine was really good though, so when he saw from the corner of his eye that Kate was talking to the gay couple he quickly took another sip. Emma, in the meantime, got to her feet.

‘Are you all ready for the main course?’ she asked.

Kate got up too, telling Emma that she would help her. Roger watched both women walk to the kitchen. Emma short and a bit overweight, with her straight blonde hair cut in a fashionable bob cut. His wife at her side, taller and curvaceous, with her perfect posture and sensual gait. So many years together and still he felt in awe of her. How many men could say that of their wives? He was sure their kinky power exchange played a role in that too. It kept him on his toes, especially on a night like this when the scales had tipped all the way in her favor. Meanwhile Bruno from Paris was saying something to him.

‘Pardon?’ Roger said.

‘I understand we are both attorneys in the City?’

Bruno was a bit older, with gray hair, glasses and a friendly face. They chatted about work for a while and as the Frenchman sipped of his wine, Roger did so too. Before he knew it both of their glasses were empty. Oliver, always the perfect host, noticed and stood up. Leaning over the table he first filled up Bruno’s glass and then Roger’s.

‘You certainly like your wine, Roger,’ he said. Everybody chuckled, except Kate who had just walked in with a bowl in her hands. Roger suspected his problems might just have become bigger, but his head was swimming nicely and people were friendly, so why not relax a bit too?

‘Hey Kate,’ he said in a jovial manner. ‘That looks good. Salad with goat cheese, eh?’

But Kate set the bowl on the table without a word and disappeared into the kitchen again. The conversation at the table continued to flow. Kevin said something to Sophie about work, Oliver smiled at Roger and asked Bruno if he missed Paris. Kate and Emma came back with more platters and sat down again.

A really nice dinner party, Roger said to himself, when they were halfway through the main course. Good food, great company. At one end of the table they were talking about fashion now, at their side they discussed the latest football developments. Oliver was a United fan, Roger supported Spurs. Bruno tried to say something too, but he was French and nobody cared about their league, did they? Wait, had he just thought that or did he really say it out loud? Judging by the Frenchman’s face he had indeed said it. Oliver also looked a bit uncomfortable suddenly. Kate had heard him too, he was sure of it. He glanced at her quickly and yes, the look she gave him made him feel like an insect again. He apologized to Bruno, but too profoundly, which made things only worse.

After the main course Oliver poured him a glass of water and Kate and Emma began to take plates and platters to the kitchen. Sophie joined them. She was an attractive woman, Roger noticed. In her own French way of course. A bit too posh for his taste, but okay. Kate came back from the kitchen and began to collect the cutlery they had used. She was beside him, leaning over the table, with her round butt so close by that he wanted to touch it, but he knew that now was not the moment. His eyes went downward, to her strong and shapely calves and those elegant shoes she must have bought today. A compliment, he thought. That might get him out of trouble.

‘Kate bought new shoes today,’ he said. ‘Aren’t they lovely?’

Was his voice too loud? He wasn’t sure.

‘Why don’t you help us clear the table?’ Kate responded.

He got to his feet and gathered what was was left. Kate sat down again and Sophie came in with the first of the deserts. Mmmmm, creme brulee, if he was not mistaken. He walked into the kitchen, where he found Emma rinsing dishes. She looked at him strangely.

‘Hi Emma, what a nice evening,’ he said, trying to make his voice sound as normal as possible.

Emma seemed tense though. She turned to him and said: ‘Look Roger, I don’t know what is going on exactly, but Kate asked me to give you this.’

She handed him something pink and lacy. He took it and saw it was a pair of panties. Emma seemed both intrigued and embarrassed as she said: ‘Kate is my best friend as you know, so I do as she requested. She said she’d explain later. All I know now is that you can keep them. I don’t want them back.’

‘But what…?’

‘I don’t know, Roger. She just asked me to give you a pair of my knickers and tell you to put them on.’

‘What?! I’m not going to put on your underwear!’ he protested. ‘Why on earth would I?’

‘As I said, I don’t know either, Roger.’

And with that Emma picked up two deserts and walked out of the kitchen.

Roger had known something was coming, but he didn’t expect it so soon. He felt sick to his stomach. Forced to wear women’s underwear, something he had never done before, felt like being punched in the gut. However, the realization that Emma had been let in on their little secret, that it was her underwear that he was supposed to wear, was the real blow. Like an uppercut that knocked him out. Even the short conversation with Emma just now had been utterly humiliating. What could he do now, he wondered? Maybe quickly excuse himself and take a taxi home? Say that he’d had too much to drink and didn’t feel well? Or just go back in and ignore Kate’s wish? As if she were reading his mind though, his phone beeped then. He took it out of his pocket and saw a message from his wife that said: ‘Do it now.’

He replied to her: ‘No way. I’m thinking of going home.’

She didn’t reply, but a moment later he heard the sound of her heels as she walked over to the kitchen. He took a deep breath and decided to go on the attack.

‘I don’t like this, Kate. I’m sorry if I drank too much, but that doesn’t give you the right to let Emma in on our secrets.’

It didn’t have the effect he was hoping for though. His wife was still furious with him and at that moment he realized she was about to walk all over him. She placed her hands on her hips and told him in no uncertain terms how exactly he had been letting her down all night. As a husband, she said, he had first stood her up and then embarrassed her several times. Their late arrival, his idiotic remarks over dinner and the disgraceful manner in which he had insulted that very kind Frenchman.

‘I already apologized for that,’ he tried to say, but she was not letting him speak any longer.

‘Sssht,’ she said. ‘I’ve had it with you tonight. If we’d been like them, your behavior would be bad enough, but we’re not a normal couple. You’re not just my husband. You're my submissive too and we both know what that means. Tonight you’ve been way out of line, but now that ends. You’re putting on Emma’s panties right away or there will be serious consequences.’

Looking at his wife and feeling her rage wash over him, made him realize how weak or even non-existent his defenses were when it came to her. The longer they were together, the stronger her hold over him was becoming. He opened his mouth to try to make her see one more time that involving Emma felt like a huge betrayal and humiliation, but she hushed him and told him not to play the righteous victim here.

‘What you do,’ she said, ‘you go to the bathroom and put on Emma’s panties. If you don’t, I’m not going to include you next time I have a lover.’

The meaning of what she said hit him hard. Like earlier in the taxi, when she had addressed his nylon fetish, she confronted him with one of his deep rooted desires, in this case the desire to be cuckolded by her. Her playing around with other men and telling him about it afterwards. Now her words stung, not just because he craved this perverted game, but also because of the way she said it. Distancing herself from him made him feel alone and ashamed of his kink.

‘So you’d better do it right now,’ she said as she nodded in the direction of the bathroom door. ‘And be sure that I’ll check that you’re wearing them when we’re back home.’

With that she turned around and walked away. Roger did as he was told then. His resistance was broken, if it had really been there in the first place. He hardly felt drunk anymore either. He locked the bathroom door and quickly took off his trousers and underwear. He stepped into Emma’s pink, lacy panties and pulled them up. They were tiny and the backside disappeared between his ass cheeks. At the front his cock, which wasn’t very big, still slipped out from underneath the lace. Well, they weren’t made for a man, that was obvious. He pulled up his trousers and splashed some water in his face. Then he went back to the dining room. The others looked up from their dessert. Some, like Oliver and Bruno, cheered and said: ‘Roger! Feeling better?’

Seeing the water on his face most likely. Kate must have told them that he wasn’t feeling so well. Max and Kevin hardly acknowledged him. He hadn’t spoken to them yet and they were in the middle of a conversation with Kate, who seemed to be getting along with them. It was Emma he was most worried about. She looked him in the eye and he knew exactly what she was thinking. He felt that he could just as well have worn her panties on his head, it wouldn’t have made much difference. Looking at her made him feel more humiliated than he had ever felt before. Even more than that very first time Kate had had a lover and she had answered his questions truthfully. Yes, her lover had a bigger cock than he did and yes, he fucked her better too. That had left its marks, but looking Emma in the eye was even more painful. How could he ever see her again after tonight? He sat down and started on his creme brulee, feeling subdued now. He hoped they would go home soon, preferably right after dessert.

Now that Roger was under control, Kate could relax and enjoy herself. After dinner the party moved to the living room. She sat next to one of the gay guys, Kevin, but mostly talked to Max who sat opposite them in a chair. Roger and Oliver were chatting about the Premier League again, but Kate could tell her husband’s heart wasn’t in it anymore. He looked like he wanted to disappear off the face of the Earth, which to her still seemed like a pretty good idea. God, how he had annoyed her tonight! At first she had just been angry with him. Then, in the taxi, she had thought of a way to punish him later, when they were back at home. But when he misbehaved and embarrassed her over dinner she had decided to act immediately. Thinking back she had no idea how she had come up with asking Emma for a pair of panties and making her husband put them on, but it had all worked out well. The double embarrassment was just what Roger needed to be brought back to being a kind and obedient husband and Emma, oh well, she would explain it to her later this week. Tell her that she and Roger were playing a game, a bet or something like that. Knowing her, perhaps Emma wouldn’t even ask her. Kate didn’t worry about that. Roger did though and that was good to know, also for future arguments.

She really liked talking to Max and Kevin. She had never met them before, but Emma had mentioned them several times lately. Kevin was a new colleague of Oliver and the four of them had hung out before. Kate could understand why Emma had grown so fond of them. They were clever guys and funny too. Max was telling her now about his shop in Shoreditch. Apparently he was doing very well, although he opened just a few weeks ago. Emma and Kevin joined in and said that Kate should definitely go take a look. They talked about their favorite brands and which ones Max was selling. Some of the brands were unknown to Kate. Max explained that he had a friend in Tokyo, who kept him up to date on what was selling there. Chances were that it would become popular in Europe later. Kate asked him if he had been to Tokyo himself and now both men were nodding enthusiastically. They were there last summer, they said. They talked about Japan for a while. Kate had been there too, on a secret mission, but of course she didn’t say that. At some point in the conversation she crossed her legs. Max took one look at her shoes and said: ‘Oh dear, I adore your shoes!’

She told him she had bought them today in Bond Street. He had heard of the brand Casadei and said he was a big fan. She took off her shoe then and gave it to him. He looked at it from all angles, telling her how gorgeous it was.

‘What size are they?’ he asked, but was already checking it for himself. ‘Thirty-eight. What is that in England?’

‘Five,’ she said.

Meanwhile Kate smiled, happy with this man who knew his shoes and approved of her purchase. She wriggled her toes a bit and made a little circle in the air with her foot. Max immediately jumped on that too. He didn’t look at the shoe anymore, but instead focused on her foot.

‘Oh my God, Kate,’ he exclaimed. ‘You have beautiful feet!’

She giggled and so did Kevin, who said that Max had a thing for feet. That was perfectly okay with Kate. Gay guys like Max often amused her. He was the type that could probably be mean and gossipy, but when they saw something they liked the whole world needed to know. What she also liked was how open he was about his love for her feet. He leaned forward to take a closer look and she took off her other shoe too to show him both of her feet.

‘What a nice shape they have,’ he said. ‘The arches and toes, oh my God! They’re just perfect!’

She thanked him and looked over at her husband. As she had expected he had become transfixed on her feet too, but in a different way. He loved her feet as well, but his was a darker passion. They turned him on, especially when she was wearing nylons and when her toenails were painted red like tonight. Looking at him she concluded that he was still struggling with what had happened between them in the kitchen. Part of him probably disliked her at the moment, but another part reared its head now that her pretty feet were on display. She wriggled her toes some more and said to Max: ‘Roger loves my feet too.’ And turning to her husband she added: ‘Don’t you, love?’

Roger nodded surly, while Emma, who was sitting next to him, looked slightly alarmed. She was a sensitive woman and was picking up on something out of the ordinary here. In the meantime Max continued to praise her feet. Now he said: ‘I’d love to see them without tights to get a better look at your toes.’

Kate laughed and said: ‘I’m not taking off my tights for you, Max.’

‘I’m not asking you, dear. I’ll wait till summer.’

‘Okay, darling,’ she said. ‘Can I have my shoe back now?’

An hour later Kate and Roger were on their way home. Roger was sulking, but Kate felt much better than before when they were going in the opposite direction.

Once they were back home they went straight up to the bedroom on the first floor. It was late and time to go to sleep, but first Kate wanted to be certain that her husband had obeyed her. She was pretty sure he had, but it couldn’t hurt to verify. She sat down on the edge of the bed and told Roger to take off his clothes. He took off his shirt and socks and then, reluctantly, his trousers too. The moment they dropped to his ankles Kate burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it and besides, she still didn’t feel as if she needed to be delicate either. After all, he had made the first part of the evening absolutely miserable for her. Roger blushed and quickly tried to take off the pink panties, but she told him ‘no no, keep them on.’ He surprised her then by blowing up. All of a sudden he was yelling at her.

‘I’m taking them off. Enough is enough! I still can’t believe you told Emma. You betrayed me. I’m fed up with this shit.’

And so on. A good, old-fashioned tantrum was what he got into. He stepped out of the panties and stood there like a little boy, his face red, his hands gesturing angrily and his small penis making tiny movements to the left and right. Kate couldn’t help herself and burst out laughing again, but when he kept yelling at her it didn’t take long for her to lose her patience.

‘Stop it,’ she said calmly. ‘Stop it now.’

And just like that he calmed down, because deep down her husband was a well-trained submissive. It was strange, because as he went from angry to obedient in a heartbeat, she went from laughter to a quick build up of anger in the same amount of time. What had he said to her just now? What was he thinking? Had he forgotten how drunk he was earlier on? How late they had arrived at the dinner and how embarrassed he had made her feel? They were definitely not done here yet. Humiliating him with Emma’s panties had clearly not been enough. She thought about it quickly and then ordered him to go downstairs and bring her some ice cubes in a plastic bag. He didn’t like where this was going, but he obeyed her and walked down the stairs. In the meantime she opened the closet and took his chastity device from a drawer. When he was back in the room and handed her the ice cubes, he already understood what was happening. She told him to stand still and placed the ice cubes against his cock and balls. They shrank to a pitiful size right away, which was exactly what she wanted. Quickly she shoved the chastity device over his cock and put the ring that came with it over his balls. She then attached the two parts and placed the key in the lock. A moment later Roger’s cock was locked up and it was going to stay like that until she decided to set him free.

‘For at least a month,’ she said, as she walked over to a comfortable chair in the corner of the room. He was moaning now, apologizing over and over again, but she had enough of that too. What good was his apology if he lost his temper a minute later? No, it was best for both if she showed him who was in charge here. Physically show him, she meant. She sat down in the chair and said: ‘You know the drill.’

Reluctantly he walked over to her and stood to her side.

‘Come on, let’s go.’

He bent forward and leaned over her lap until his hands were resting on the floor beside her. She could feel the plastic of the chastity device against her thigh and then his balls too. His pale ass was in her lap, just where she wanted it. She raised her hand and slapped it down on his ass cheek. Once, twice, three times and then she stopped, telling him she was just warming up.

‘This is going to be the toughest spanking so far. It will teach you to never disrespect me again. Do you understand?’

He nodded vigorously, probably in the hope that she would have mercy on him, but Kate had already made up her mind. When he was back at his desk after the weekend, there was no way he would be able to sit down without being reminded of his bad behaviour. She brought her flat hand down again, harder this time, making it land exactly on the spot where it already started to hurt. Roger yelled, but Kate ignored him and continued to spank him hard.