“Well, show me what you're wearing then,” ordered Daisy the moment she opened the door of her apartment. She had a cheeky expression on her face, which I remembered from the hospital.

“What? Here?” I replied. I was standing in a communal corridor.

Indeed, at that moment another attractive woman, of similar age to Daisy, walked past and smiled at Daisy, whispering, “Nine o'clock?”

Daisy nodded in response but turned her attention back to me. “Yes, here! Is it too much to ask?” she retorted, seemingly unable—or unwilling—to understand my embarrassment. “There's no point in me inviting you in if I've got to send you away for not following instructions.”

“Er...”

“For crying out loud, just undo your zip,” she impatiently demanded.

I took a deep breath and pulled down the zip of my jeans to reveal a flash of pink cotton. It was the confirmation she needed that I was wearing panties, as she expected.

“Now undo your jacket and lift up your T-shirt,” she insisted.

I nervously glanced around, and the coast was clear. I unbuttoned my coat and quickly lifted my shirt, giving her a peek of the pink bra I was wearing.

“God, that wasn't so difficult, was it? You can come in, Mark,” she declared, with a shake of her head and a mischievous smirk.

I breathed a sigh of relief and followed her into the flat and into her lounge.

She sat herself down on a sofa and beckoned me to stand in front of her. If anything, her skirt this week was shorter than ever and, as she sat down, from the corner of my eye I glimpsed something white between her thighs.

My todger gave a jolt inside its chastity cage. My face went rigid, my eyes fixed on hers in a state of fear—do not look down, I told myself!

“You look scared to death, Mark. Aren't you going to say hello? Where are your manners—again?!” She had previously banished me for two days to “learn manners”, and I didn't want a repeat this week.

“I'm... I'm sorry. Good evening... Miss,” I ventured, wondering whether I'd already blotted my copybook.

She paused, keeping me on tenterhooks, but then a smile spread across her face. “Evening, Mark. You seem nervous? I'm not scary, am I?”

“No... yes... no... I don't know,” I prattled, which brought a broader smile to her face, lightening the tension in the room.

“Strip down to your bra and knickers,” she instructed in a no-nonsense tone.

A week ago, I'd fucked her—or, rather, she'd fucked me—and, since then, I'd been locked in my cage. As someone who usually jerked off daily, seven days was an excessively long time between releases. I couldn't afford to do anything that she might interpret as defiance. Therefore, I didn't hesitate to undress.

Now, standing in front of her, dressed just in my undies, I could tell she was delighted. “Give me a twirl, Mark,” she requested. I did, and she nodded thoughtfully, saying, “And again, but more slowly.”

I turned through 360 degrees to face her again. “God, you look so cute!” she gleefully commented. “And you've remembered I like to see guys in pink.”

“Er... thank you, Miss. I remembered you liked pink, so I bought a pink bra. It was embarrassing, Miss. I didn't know—”

“Please stop babbling, Mark!” she insisted, but not maliciously. “And next time, put some stuffing in your bra to give yourself shape.”

She looked again at my panties. “So, are those the knickers you were wearing last week?”

“Yes!”

“Have you washed them since?”

“Er... well—”

“I'll take that as a 'no', then!” she sneered, rolling her eyes. “I'm a nurse, so I expect high standards in hygiene. And they're damp at the front. You've been leaking, haven't you? Why's that?”

There was a playful glint in her eyes, and she would have known why the front of my panties was sodden with pre-cum. “I'm frustrated, Miss. You know... sexually frustrated.”

“Yes, I suppose you might be... after a week. But could just wearing knickers be arousing you as well? Hmm?”

“Er... there is that. I... I like their soft feel and snug fit.”

She smiled sweetly again. “I like that you're happy wearing knickers, Mark. We all have the right to be happy, don't we?” she mused.

“Yes, Miss.”

“But leaking's not hygienic, is it?”

“Er... no, it isn't. But I can't help it!”

“Girls leak, Mark. You do know that, don't you?”

“Yes... Yes, I know.”

“But we do something about it. Get dressed, Mark!” Her tone had changed, becoming more serious—more threatening. Clearly, she was going to send me away without unlocking me. I was to suffer a further period of no release.

“No, please, Miss, please,” I pleaded. “I'm sorry for leaking.”

“I know you can't help it, but I've asked you to get dressed—therefore, please do what I've said.”

Her voice was assertive but not aggressive, and I could imagine her speaking like that to a recalcitrant patient awaiting an intimate examination. Overwhelmed, I did what she wanted and stood waiting to be told for how many days I was to be exiled.

Then a shock! “You've fifteen minutes to go down to the corner shop to buy a pack of pantyliners. Off you go, Mark.”

I let out an audible gasp of relief, which was immediately followed by panic at the thought of what I had to do. I stared at her, open-mouthed.

“Go on, off you go, Mark.” She stood up, confronting me, stretching her arms wide, and shooing me towards her front door. I was soon out in the corridor, and the door was shut behind me.

oooOOooo

Fifteen minutes later, my mission had been accomplished, but not without considerable awkwardness.

“You're sure these are the right ones, love?” the middle-aged woman behind the till had asked when I'd surreptitiously slid them across the counter.

“Yes... why? They're... they're for my girlfriend.”

“Well, I didn't think they were for you,” she'd laughed, and I had returned a nervous snort. “It's just that most girls nowadays prefer ones without wings.”

“Wings?”

“What does your girlfriend wear, love?”

“White!”

She laughed again. “I mean, does she wear bikinis, thongs, boyshorts or what?”

“Er... yes,” I replied.

She stared at me, looking puzzled. “Okay, but which?”

“Er... a thong,” I guessed.

She had come from behind the counter and taken me back to the pantyliners. “These wingless ones are best with thongs.” She had handed me a large pack to take back to the till.

oooOOooo

“Put a pantyliner inside your knickers,” Daisy instructed, once I was back in her flat and undressed.

She watched closely as I struggled to correctly position the liner, offering no help except to remark, “You'll soon learn, with more practice.”

I was again standing in front of her, while she sat on the sofa, that small triangle of white again visible between her thighs, but I was determined not to look down, although I couldn't stop wondering whether I was right about it being a thong.

“Was I nice to you last week, Mark? And helpful?” she asked, out of the blue.

“My God! Yes, really nice and helpful,” I truthfully replied. The experience of being fucked by her had been out of this world and was why I'd allowed her to put me back into the cage.

“You won't always be allowed to penetrate me, Mark. Do you know why?”

My mind was racing. “Because you expect total obedience from me, Miss! I do understand that. Honestly, I do!”

She smiled playfully again. “Well, there is that, but I'm sure you'll try to be well-behaved. No! There's another reason—a biological reason.” She paused and dropped her voice to a whisper, “Girls have periods, Mark.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” I answered, feeling foolish.

“I've got a tampon in, Mark. I'd show you the string, but you're not allowed to look down there, are you? That's what distinguishes a submissive from a lover.” She gave a little giggle. In a kind way, she had put me in my place, so if I'd harboured any doubts, she had confirmed that we were never to enjoy a “normal” boy-girl relationship.

“Er... I see, Miss,” I responded, feeling a jet of precum shooting out of my todger into the pantyliner as I envisaged what her pussy might look like, string or no string.

“I like you, Mark—I like you lots. Would you be my submissive? Owned by me?” There was a twinkle in her eyes, begging me to agree.

“Yes, yes, I would, Miss!” I blurted out without thinking what it actually meant to be owned by her.

I expected her to say something, but she kept quiet, holding my gaze. She was waiting for me to process what had just passed between us. “But what does it mean, though?” I asked, as my brain caught up with my mouth.

She laughed. “Well, Mark, obviously it means you stay locked up, and I control your orgasms.”

“Yes! I would expect that, Miss.”

“And it means that you're at my beck and call. You can't live here, Mark. The block is female nurses only, and men have to be gone by eleven at night. But I'll call you if I want something done, such as cleaning, laundry, shopping... or... maybe some personal service.” She giggled as she dropped in those last two words, causing my penis to give another distressing twitch.

“I'm not cruel, Mark, but I will punish you if you misbehave.”

“Yes, I understand, Miss. I'm very sorry I wasn't nice to you in the hospital.”

“No, you weren't nice, and nurses have to be strict—otherwise, patients take advantage. So, I punished you for your rudeness by extending your release time. That's now water under the bridge—it's in the past.”

“Thank you,” I muttered.

She went over to a drawer and pulled something out. It was becoming clear that this evening had been planned, and she knew that I would agree to her proposals. What man with submissive tendencies wouldn't agree to such an offer from a beautiful young lady?

“Hold out your left arm,” she instructed. She held a plastic hospital identity band and showed me what was indelibly written on it: Property of Nurse Daisy.

My todger went into another spasm as she fixed the band to my wrist. “If either of us has a change of mind, they cut it off with scissors. Then, I'll release you from your cage and never see you again. Okay?” She put on a miserable face to emphasise that was not what she wanted. “Think of this as your safe word, Mark,” she explained.

“I won't cut it off, Miss. Ever!” I responded. “But what do I say if someone sees it?”

“Just laugh it off. Tell them it's a joke. You and I know it's not, but they won't.”

“Yes, I see what you mean... owned by my girlfriend, I could say.”

She reached forward and tenderly stroked my cheek, saying, “It's a bit presumptuous to say I'm your girlfriend. That's not your call to make, but I'll let it go!”

“Sorry.”

“I've not forgotten you need some relief tonight, Mark, but would you like some different fun first?”

“Oh, my God! Yes, please!” I shouted, much to her amusement.

“It's to help my neighbour, the girl next door, who passed us in the corridor. She always claims her boyfriend isn't much interested in foreplay, so she needs a pussy fluffer. I'm not convinced she's being truthful, but would you help her, Mark? Would you be her pussy fluffer?”

“Sorry, I don't know what that means.”

“A pussy fluffer is someone who gets a girl excited and lubricated, so she's ready to have sex. Do you understand?”

What seemed like a bolt of electricity zapped my todger, and now I understood only too well! For several seconds, I was speechless while my penis writhed in agony.

Then a thought occurred to me—a worrying thought. “So... so your neighbour knows about me?”

“She doesn't know your surname, but she knows you're submissive. She met my last... er... boyfriend. And the one before that. You're not her first fluffer, Mark!”

“I see,” I responded, for want of something better to say.

“She's my bestie, Mark, and she's very discreet. And her boyfriend is as well. They're nurses, and they can keep secrets.”

“Her boyfriend?” It was only slowly sinking in what was expected of me. “He'll be there?”

She laughed impishly. “Yes, he has to be. There's no point in you getting her eager, and then she has to wait half an hour for her boyfriend to arrive. Silly boy!”

“Yes, I see.”

“He's a nice guy, Mark. He's not going to beat you up. He accepts that his girlfriend needs a fluffer.”

“Yeah... hmm... I... I don't have to arouse him as well, do I?”

“Based on past experiences, you'll find he'll become rock hard just watching you at work, Mark.”

Before I could think of how to reply, Daisy went into her bedroom and returned with a pink bathrobe. “It's nine o'clock, Mark. Put this on and go next door. You have to stay caged in case of accidents, if you get my drift.”

I think I did!

“And you need to take this,” she added, passing me an envelope. I stared blankly at it, and she explained, “It contains a customer satisfaction form, Mark. Bring it back after it's been filled in. It's a game she and I play, but that doesn't mean there are no consequences for poor feedback. Okay?”

I was speechless, but by then her arms were spread out, and she was steering me to the exit.

oooOOooo

It was only a few yards between the two flats, and the corridor was empty. Almost the instant I tapped on the neighbouring door, it was opened.

“Hi, Mark!” the girl cheerfully remarked. “Come in. It's good of you to help!” She took the form from me. “I'll fill that in afterwards,” she confirmed. “I'm sure you'll get a good report, honey.”

The conversation was surreal. It was as if I was a tradesman come to put a shelf up, not a pussy fluffer.

“I'm Chloe,” she said. Like Daisy, Chloe was a blonde and very pretty. She was taller than Daisy and, perhaps to keep things in proportion, nature had blessed her with larger boobs. Her bum, though, was similarly sized to Daisy's—firm and shapely but not oversized.

Chloe was dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt. The outline of a lacy bra was visible through the cotton of her shirt, but I was wary of staring.

She led the way into the bedroom where a man of my age was lolling on the bed, stark naked, but at least his todger was limp.

“This is Ben, honey.”

“Hello, Mark! Great to meet you.” He held out his hand, and we shook. The surrealism wasn't going to go away.

“Sorry, I'm shy, Mark,” Chloe went on to say. “You need to be blindfolded before I get undressed. But take your robe off first!”

Reluctantly, I removed the bathrobe, revealing my pink panties and matching bra. They both eyed me up and down and then turned to look at one another, exchanging smiles. “It's got to be ‘princess’,” grinned Chloe, and Ben nodded. I wanted the floor to swallow me up.

Ben got up from the bed and pulled a hood from a bedside drawer. It had a large hole for my mouth, but my sight would be cut off. He secured it in place while I heard Chloe stripping. I sensed she had fallen back onto the bed, and Ben guided me over. “You'll need to kneel, princess,” he warmly explained. “I'll steer you in!”

“I want you to get me aroused, princess, but I don't want you to make me cum. That's Ben's job. Back off if I get too close,” Chloe called out, as I homed in on her pussy.

I buried my face in her vulva, my lips encircling her lips and my tongue exploring her tunnel. She was slow to respond, but I detected she was getting wetter, and not just from my saliva. She tasted delicious, which was an incentive for me to entice her to secrete more juices. Indeed, I was enjoying myself, despite the suffering of my todger as it struggled to expand into its tight cage. How I wished Daisy had unlocked me, so I could have enjoyed an erection, but she was fearful of me having an “accident”.

As I worked away, Chloe became more excited. There were occasional moans and sharp intakes of air, and then some squirming and wriggling. She grabbed my hair, grinding me into her pussy, making it hard for me to breathe, while her own respiration rate increased. I was forced to push back on her thighs with my hands to create an airway.

Her clit had become engorged, and the merest brush against it sent her into spasms of frenzy. I needed to be careful I didn't push her over the top because her instructions were clear—Ben was to do that.

I sensed she was getting close, but would she tell me? Or was it up to me to know when to hand over to her lover?

It was she who made the decision. “I'm getting close!” she suddenly screamed. “Back off... fucking back off, you cunt! Let Ben in.”

Stunned by her venom, I hastily wobbled backwards, out of the way. I heard Ben falling on her and seconds later she was squealing for joy. The sound of the creaking bed told me Ben was pumping her and pumping her hard.

Chloe was now shrieking and calling out obscenities. Ben was silent but gasping. Then, suddenly, they both yelled as Ben filled her with his cum. I couldn't understand how the bed wasn't collapsing. Their joint orgasm seemed to go on for ages. As they recovered, both were breathing heavily and trying to whisper tenderly to one another.

I just had to wait until they'd both calmed down, but my todger was still torturing me.

“Good... job, princess,” Chloe eventually noted. “Sorry... I swore at you. My bad! You're... a good fluffer. Isn't he Ben?” Ben said nothing.

Another couple of minutes of heavy breathing followed before Chloe continued, “Did Daisy explain that there's a section on the customer satisfaction form asking about clean-up?”

No! She had not! “No, I didn't know. What do I have to do?” I asked, despite having a good idea of the answer.

“Clean Ben first. Do me second because I need to let gravity do its work.”

I was still on my knees, and I immediately smelt Ben's todger. It was so close to me. Gently, he held my head and pulled himself closer. “I'm grateful for this, Mark,” he said, as if I had a choice if I was to get good feedback.

I allowed his semi-flaccid penis to enter my mouth. It was only a week since I'd tasted semen for the first time, and that had been my own. Now I was tasting another man's spunk.

“Do what you can,” Ben urged. “Get your tongue under the foreskin.”

Distasteful though it was, I sucked away, swallowing as often as I could to rid myself of the taste. But, alarmingly, I found his penis was swelling.

“Sorry about this,” he remarked, with a nervous laugh. “This doesn't usually happen. I think you're doing a better job than the others. Don't get too worried, because I don't think I'll cum again so soon.” Thank God for that, I thought.

“My turn, princess,” Chloe called, and Ben helped me over. As my face approached her pussy, I was assailed by the overwhelming stench of jism. And there were gallons of it!

“Work your tongue right in,” she instructed. “I don't want dregs sliding out later.”

I did what I could, distasteful though it was. I sensed she was relishing this further attention, and the cleaning was going on for longer than needed.

“That's enough, Mark,” Ben sternly interrupted. Was he jealous?

I waited while Chloe got dressed, and then my hood was removed. I watched, anxiously, as she and Ben completed the customer satisfaction form. They spoke in whispers, and I could tell they were not in agreement on all points.

Eventually, they finished, and Chloe folded the paper, shoved it into the envelope and sealed it shut. “There you go, princess,” she remarked, passing the envelope to me. “Put your bathrobe back on and then scoot back to Daisy.”

oooOOooo

Back with Daisy, I stood in front of her as she scrutinised the completed customer satisfaction form. There was nothing on her face giving any hint of what it said.

After a while, she looked up at me from the sofa. “Well, princess, you've done okay for a first time,” she concluded, embarrassingly emphasising the nickname the pair had bestowed on me. “But there are things that need improvement.”

There was a lull while she watched me sweat. “Miss Chloe said you touched her thighs with your hands. Yes?”

I nodded. “Sorry, but I was finding it hard to breathe.”

“Submissives never touch without permission! Learn to take deep breaths when you can and hold them. Another point is that Nurse Ben commented that he was still sticky after you'd cleaned him up. Hmm?”

“I did my best, Miss. But he was waking up and... and he decided to withdraw. I think he thought he might... you know?”

I was becoming nervous, wondering if Ben had mentioned my overzealous cleaning of Chloe. Luckily, Daisy simply smiled. “You did all right, princess, so I'm going to unlock you for release.”

From behind her back, she produced the special screwdriver and deftly undid the two screws that secured my cage in place. The instant it was off, my todger stood solidly to attention.

“Go into the bathroom, princess. You have five minutes to do your business and clean up afterwards. Then you can tell me whether I lock you up again, or whether we cut off your wristband.”

oooOOooo

Needless to say, I went home that night with the cage secured in place. I was proud to be owned by Daisy. I was sure she would be a good and kind mistress as long as I was obedient. She'd taken my phone number, and I was now to be at her beck and call, providing whatever service she wanted. I couldn't wait!