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My Controlling Young Neighbour - Part 3

"Jessica sells me something from college lost property but then sets rules which deny me relief. After a week, she consents to release, but only under humiliating circumstances."

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Jessica had manipulated me into buying a pair of her panties and then masturbating into them three times in twenty-four hours. She had then told me that I was not to wank again until she gave me permission. I was humiliated, and common sense should have caused me to step away from her, yet, like a moth is unable to resist being drawn to a light, so I felt compelled to comply with her demands. Without doubt, she knew how to arouse me with just a few carefully chosen words and precisely targeted actions.

I had no idea how long she expected me to abstain from masturbating, and her behaviour towards me was boosting my frustration. It might be a couple of days of no relief, or it might be a week or longer, but I sensed that if I jerked off it would be that day when she resumed her game. Consequently, I stayed chaste, despite my growing desperation, waiting for her to resume contact.

oooOOooo

The next interaction came on a Saturday morning. She knocked on my front door and was stood there looking as pretty as ever in a very short sundress held in place by straps no thicker than shoelaces. Once more, I reckoned she was braless, and that left me wondering when she wore the collection of bras that I had seen on her washing line—at the college, I guessed.

“Hello, Frank,” she announced, in her libidinous voice. “I'm here to apologise. I'm very, very sorry for coming close to losing my cool with you, after I caught you staring at my undies on the washing line... and then you lying about it. Will you please forgive me, darling? I'd forgotten how immature men can be, and I should have made allowances for where their brains are located.”

She smiled flirtatiously at me, as she delivered what amounted to a tongue-in-cheek, non-apology. I felt I had no choice but to graciously accept this meagre offering—it was, after all, an accurate summary of events.

“You've nothing to be sorry for, Jess,” I replied. “It was entirely my fault—I was completely out of order. I'm the one who should be apologising.”

If I had hoped she might meet me partway, by genuinely accepting at least some of the blame, that didn't happen. “Yes, that's what I thought, darling, but let's not dwell on it. Hopefully, your behaviour will improve with time.”

I felt myself redden as she once more assumed control. “So, have you been a good boy for me? Have you done what I told you, or do I need to punish you?” she continued.

I instantly went crimson with embarrassment, but simultaneously my penis gave several twitches.

“Er... yes... yes, I have. Please come inside.” She entered and I closed the door behind her, thankful no one had been around to overhear our doorstop conversation.

“I've got something for you, to make-up for our little contretemps.” In her hand, she held a small paper bag. I looked quizzically at it, forcing her to expand on what she was saying. “You remember you said the panties I sold you were too small?”

“Er... yes, but I was just joking, Jessica.”

Really? They weren't too small?”

“I don't mean that—well, yes, I do, but I didn't try them on.” I was aware I was rambling, and she smiled sweetly at me. I took a deep breath and continued, “Sorry, I could tell by looking that there was no way they would have fitted. I was just making a joke.”

Oh... sorry! That joke was lost on me, darling. You should have made it clear you were joking. And I replied I would get you something that fitted, and you didn't say don't. Hmm?”

“No, sorry, I thought you were joking, Jess.”

“Well, I wasn't. I supposed I would be doing you a favour and now I've gone to a great deal of trouble to get you something that will fit.”

She passed me the bag and I peeped inside at what was navy-blue cotton. “Uh?” was all I could say.

“They're gym knickers, from lost property. They were left behind after a senior girls' hockey match,” she explained, in a matter-of-fact way. “We have some biggish girls at college, so these should fit you.”

“I... I can't take these, Jessica,” I said, alarm bells ringing.

“Yes, you can, and yes, you will” she said firmly. “They came from a girl over the age of consent. There's nothing illegal in accepting them.”

“But... but why haven't they been claimed by their... owner?”

“She'll have had spare pairs.”

“Don't you know whose they are?”

“Do stop to think, Frank. If we knew that, don't you reckon we'd have handed them back, you silly boy!” She rolled her eyes, and I got the sense that she saw me as a simpleton.

“Yeah, sorry. So, there's no name inside?”

“Well done, Sherlock! Of course, there's no name inside! It's against the rules for clothing not to carry a name tag, so the girl responsible would have been in trouble had she come to claim them.”

“Right...”

“It's important that knickers bear a name tag in case they get lost. You understand, Frank?”

“Yes, I do.”

“So, how much should I ask you for these, Frank?”

What, you want me to buy them off you?”

“Yes, obviously I do! You're my little paypig.”

Paypig? What are you talking about, Jess?”

“Well, I suppose you're not really a paypig, because a paypig would pay me money and get nothing in return. But look what value you're getting for your cash, Frank?” She pointed at the knickers. “So, what are they worth? I can see you're getting very excited at the prospect of trying them on.”

She was looking down at my crotch, where a bulge was appearing. “Er... is £10 okay?” I muttered, shamefacedly.

“Hmm... Make it £20 after the considerable bother I've gone to.”

Feeling flustered, I passed her a note. “Well, now they're yours and you can put them on,” she concluded.

“Are they clean?”

No!” she gasped, shaking her head and sounding bewildered. Her voice went up an octave. “How can they be clean? They've come from lost property. Surely, you don't think I've got the time, with my busy life, to be washing other people's underwear! Now, do as you've been told and put them on.”

“What, now?”

“Gosh, Frank, you do seem to have a problem understanding simple instructions. Yes, now!! Right here!! Take your trousers and underpants off.”

She spoke with authority, and I could see why her students saw her as someone to be feared. I hastily did what she said and very soon I was standing in front of her, naked from the waist down. As if that wasn't embarrassing enough, I was now sporting a solid erection.

“God, I'm so sorry, Jess,” I remarked.

“So you should be, Frank,” she fumed. “Do you think that impresses me?”

“No, I couldn't help myself.”

“So, I can see! And I've seen bigger, Frank, so don't overrate yourself!” She reached forward and pressed the base of the shaft with two fingers. “It's very firm, though... very hard, indeed,” she declared analytically, in her sultry voice but with a serious expression on her face.

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Then she slowly dragged her two fingers up the shaft and gently stroked the head. My penis gave an enormous twitch, followed by a dribble of precum.

Uh-uh, that was a mistake! I won't be doing that again. It was like prodding a firework that hadn't gone off—you think it's a dud and then... whoosh!” she laughed, wide-eyed. “For God's sake, put your knickers on and cover your thing up.”

Gingerly, I picked up the gym knickers and slid the soft cotton up my legs. As she had predicted, they fitted, albeit rather tightly with the elastic in the legs and waist digging into my flesh. However, they were high waisted, so they did an effective job of covering up my erection, except that its outline was still clearly visible.

“You will wear these everyday until I say otherwise, Frank. Is that understood?”

“Er... yes, but what about... er... hygiene.”

“Good grief, Frank, wash them before bed each night and put them somewhere they will dry by the morning. Gosh, it seems that rich accountants don't need to be very bright, do they? I'm in the wrong job,” she cried, impatiently.

“Er... I understand,” I muttered.

“No wanking and no disobeying my instructions. Expect me to make spot checks that you're wearing the knickers and keeping them clean, Frank.”

“Yes... er... I understand, Jessica.”

“And no looking at porn online, either. It's a horrible habit!”

“Er... I don't look at porn, Jess,” I lied.

She shook her head in disdain, while smiling insincerely. “I don't believe you, Frank and the way you're behaving, it's better you start calling me 'Miss Fuller', not 'Jessica' and most certainly never 'Jess'. Miss Fuller's what I'm called at college, and, despite their many faults, my students are better behaved than you are. Have I made myself clear?”

“Er... yes... okay.”

“My God, have you not been listening?” she seethed. “What did I just tell you to do?”

“Er... sorry... Miss Fuller. I will try to remember... Miss.”

“If you don't, I may need to find a way of encouraging you to remember, Frank, and you may not like that.”

“Yes, Miss Fuller.” Could she humiliate me any more than she had done so far?

oooOOooo

Several days passed, and I was getting increasingly desperate to relieve my sexual tensions, but I felt it was too risky to do so without Jessica's consent. The question was, when would it come?

Three times she dropped by my house to check I was wearing the gym knickers, and the third time, a Saturday, was the most embarrassing.

“Drop your trousers,” she insisted.

I pulled them down, allowing her to see that I was appropriately attired. “Now pull your knickers down and show me the inside.”

My penis was tumescing as I slipped the undies down. She gave me a contemptuous look that showed her disapproval of my lack of self-control. Then her expression became even more stern, as she bellowed, “Are those pre-cum stains, Frank?”

I looked down and she was right. They were clearly visible against the navy-blue. “Sorry, Miss,” I replied.

“How long have they been there? Are you washing them every day, as you've been told?”

“Yes, these marks have just appeared today. I'm boiling over with frustration, Miss. Please let me have some relief.”

She didn't appear to be listening to me, as she continued, “Hmm... I can't see a name tag, Frank. Where is it?”

“What?”

“You have to call me, Miss Fuller, remember? You've got a memory like a sieve!”

“Sorry... Miss Fuller.”

“I made it clear to you that there is a rule that knickers must be name tagged. Don't you remember me saying that?”

“Well... yes, but I thought you meant it was rule for your college.”

She tutted and shook her head, “I didn't say it was only for college!”

“But I don't have any name tags.”

“Well, you can make one, silly. Find a strip of white fabric, write your name on it in indelible ink, and sew it on to the inside of your knickers.”

“I can't sew!”

“Well, you'd better learn very quickly, because I'll be back this afternoon to check you've done it. Okay?”

“Er... yes, okay, I'll do it,” I said, resignedly.

Once she had gone, I set about putting a home-made name tag into my knickers.

oooOOooo

Sure enough, she came back in the early afternoon to check that I had followed her instructions. I dropped my trousers and pulled my knickers down to reveal my homemade name tag sewn in, just below the waistband.

She frowned, saying, “Your sewing's not very neat, but I'll let you off, this time. I'll have to find you something you can do to practice.”

“Yes, Miss,” I replied, hoping this was something she would forget.

I was aware that my penis was again stiffening, and so was she.

“Oh, my God, Frank. Have you got no willpower?”

“Sorry... I'm really sorry, but I can't help it. You have this effect on me.”

By now I was fully erect. “Pull your knickers up, Frank, because that's disgusting.” I did so, and their high waist ensured that my erection was fully obscured.

“Er... may I ask you something, Miss?”

“Yes, of course you may. As long as you're not going to ask me to have sex with you, because that's not going to happen.”

“I... I understand, Miss, it's just that I'm getting very frustrated, Miss. I've not... er... wanked, just like you instructed. I think that's why this... this arousal has happened, Miss. I need some release, Miss—please?” I looked at her plaintively, while she mulled things over.

“Hmm... As you've been a good boy, Frank, or so you say, then you deserve a reward.”

“Oh, thank you, Miss, tha—”

“Lie down on the carpet, on your stomach.”

What?”

“That's not how you address me, Frank. Do you want to cum, or not?”

“Yes, Miss Fuller, please, yes please, I do, Miss,” I replied, panicking as I said it.

“Then lie on your stomach, put your hands behind your back and start humping the carpet. Keep going until you climax into your knickers. Off you go! If you're as desperate to cum as you said you are, you should ejaculate in no time. If you don't, I will know you've been wanking against my orders.”

I started humping, going as fast as I could, and pressing down as hard as I could. The way she was treating me was utterly degrading, yet it was turning me on in a way that I had never before experienced.

It took less than a minute before I came, sending a stream of hot semen into my girlie underwear. It was not a satisfying orgasm, by any means, yet it provided the release I needed.

I lay on the floor, exhausted. “Stop this theatrical tomfoolery and stand up, Frank, before your muck soaks into the carpet. Now put your trousers back on. Stay with those cum-filled knickers for the rest of the day. I may return to check.”

I stood up, wondering if my jism might leak down my legs, but the tight elastic contained everything inside my underwear. As I descended from my high, I became conscious of the sticky, gooey mess that was coating my now semi-flaccid member, and I could see a wet patch forming as the fluid seeped through the cotton. She had completely humiliated me, but I didn't regret a moment of it.

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Written by undiecontrol
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