Well... as I explained last time, Sue, my ex-wife, gave up the game and moved in with me. We established some rules for living together, and we enjoyed some riotous sex, much as we'd done when we'd been married. And then, history repeating itself, we started arguing and, as suddenly as it had all begun, so it ended. One evening, we had a blazing row, and she stormed out, intending to return to live with her husband, Kevin, in their small caravan.

She took her few possessions with her in a bin bag, leaving me wearing her panties from the previous day—her Rule Number One, that was.

“Don't you want your knickers back?” I yelled as she struggled out of the front door with her possessions.

“Keep the fucking things, knobhead!” she retorted. I slammed the door behind her.

Our newfound relationship had lasted for longer than I'd expected—three weeks... Not bad, I thought. I would have put my money on just two weeks.

oooOOooo

I didn't see or hear anything from her for many months, although I couldn't believe she was getting on with Kevin any better than she had with me. She had made it clear, during our brief reunion, that they had a tumultuous relationship. I imagined she had returned to the streets, making a living as a prostitute.

Part of me wanted to see her again, if only to have sex with her, but I drew the line at searching for her—and paying her for sex. Another part of me questioned my sanity... she was always trouble, but she was quite right that my dick controlled my brain.

It was a Saturday morning, mid-summer, that I received a text from her.

Sue: “Knobhead - I need a favour!!”

That was hardly the language to use if she wanted my help, but something about her assertive tone caused a stirring down below. I was guessing she wished to entertain a client in my house, as she'd done once before.

Me: “What?”

Sue: “I need to use your place this afternoon!”

Me: “Why?”

Sue: “None of your business, knobhead.”

Me: “If you want to use my house, then it IS my business.”

Sue: “I will make it worth your while!”

Me: “How?”

Sue: “Wait and see!”

Me: “Sex?”

Sue: “I said wait and see!”

I hesitated before replying and, before I could do so, she texted again.

Sue: “Yes or no, knobhead?”

Me: “OK!”

Sue: “Knew you would say that!!!! LOL! I'll be there at 5!”

oooOOooo

Sure enough, at 5 PM she appeared at my door. I opened up, and she was standing there in casual clothes—jeans and a baggy top. This is not what I was expecting for someone selling sex, but I knew she had a figure to die for, despite it being covered up. Then I noticed she was dragging a small carry-on case.

“Get out of the way, knobhead,” she said, but with a smirk of her face. I stood to one side, and she came through the door into the hallway. She grabbed me around the waist and gave me a kiss, her tongue exploring my mouth. I felt my penis awakening and she reached down and squeezed it, causing it to engorge more. “I said I'd make it worth your while, didn't I?” she remarked, as she broke away from me.

“Yes, but I want more than that,” I exclaimed.

“You'll get more than that—if you behave yourself. And you'll get to see the action with my client.”

“What's going to happen, Sue? I've told you before, I'm not running a brothel.”

“Yeah, you did say that last time, but you still enjoyed yourself, Dave. Trust me!”

I felt I could trust her to give me a good time, but I doubted that my trust in her extended much beyond that.

“I'm going to shower and get changed. You're going to sort out the spare room,” she went on to explain.

“Eh?”

“Yeah! I want two wooden chairs put in there from the dining room, facing one another, and a small table that can be used as a desk in front of one of the chairs.”

“Why?”

“Just do it, okay? And have you still got that little security camera that links to your tablet?”

“Er... yes!”

“Then set it up in the spare room so it captures the chairs and table. Leave it turned off for now.”

“Okay!” I was starting to get enthused. She was engineering matters so that I would get to see her at work.

“Before you do that, strip off and put these on.” She reached into her handbag and pulled something out, something that was small, scarlet and shiny.

My penis gave another jerk as I realised it was a pair of her satin panties. Moreover, she had remembered that scarlet was a colour I associated with particular nights of high passion during our marriage. She smiled at me, “Yeah, I remembered, Dave, so I wore these yesterday as a special treat for you.”

“Yesterday? How did you know I would agree to you coming today, Sue?”

She laughed. “Because I can read you like a bloody book, Dave. If there's a hint of sex, then you'll agree to anything.” She was right!

As she spoke, I stripped off and pulled the panties up my legs. By the time they'd reached the top I was fully erect. As I expected, they were a tight fit but that only served to heighten the sensations I was experiencing. “No playing with yourself, Dave. I want you fully loaded for later.”

I nodded, and she continued. “When you've sorted the room out, get into your wardrobe, like last time. Take your tablet so you can watch what happens.”

“Why the wardrobe?”

“Because I said so, knobhead. I call the shots, okay?”

oooOOooo

I couldn't work out what she had planned, but it sounded exciting, so I did what she asked while she locked herself in the bathroom, taking in with her the carry-on case.

Sorting out the room didn't take too long, and I was able to position the camera so that it covered both chairs and the table.

I pulled enough stuff out of my wardrobe to provide space to sit. I knew it would be uncomfortable, but, if it was anything like last time, I'd be in there for less than ten minutes. Sue didn't believe in spending a lot of time with her clients.

The bathroom door opened, and I heard her walk into the spare room, probably checking that it was organised to her satisfaction. Then she came into my bedroom.

“Are you in there, Dave?” she asked, tapping on the wardrobe door.

“Yes, Sue,” I replied.

“Good, then stay there! I'm leaning a book against the door. If you try to come out, it'll fall over, and you won't be able to stand it up again. If I find the book's fallen, then there'll be no reward to you later. Is that understood, knobhead?”

“Yes! I'll stay here, Sue.”

“Get comfortable! You could be in there for a long time!”

“What! That's not fair,” I exclaimed. “It's cramped in here.”

“Too bad!” At that moment, the doorbell rang and I heard her go downstair to let her punter in.

oooOOooo

The pair came upstairs and went into the spare room. As she'd instructed, the camera was not turned on, but Sue went over and flicked the switch. The picture on my tablet came to life and I found I was staring at a man in his sixties, of similar age to Sue.

He looked familiar, and then it dawned on me that he was Mr Benson, a former teacher at the school that our children, now grown up, had attended. What's more, he was someone that I suspected my wife had once had an affair with. Now, it seemed, he was paying her for sex. How the mighty had fallen—except I remembered that last year I'd also been reduced to paying Sue for sex.

He was dressed very formally for a client—smart black trousers, polished black shoes, crisp white shirt, and a red tie.

“Sit down, girl,” he commanded, speaking in a deep voice entrenched with considerable authority.

Sue came into view, and I was shocked to see she was dressed in her take on a school uniform. She was wearing an ultra-short blue and green tartan kilt, an overtight white T-shirt, long white socks and pink trainers. Her hair, I saw, was tied in a ponytail and when she turned around to glare into the camera, I could see that her face was caked in make-up in a partially successful attempt to appear much younger than she really was.

She sat herself down behind the small table and folded her arms in an act of defiance and impudence.

“Remind me how old you are, Susan,” demanded her customer.

“You know how old I am.”

“It's Sir, remember!”

“Sir!” she snapped, petulantly.

“How old are you?”

“I'm eighteen... Sir,” she replied, with barely concealed insolence.

“Yes, you're eighteen, yet still unable to follow school rules so, once again, you find yourself in detention.”

“Yeah... right... Sir,” she retorted, with a shrug of her shoulders.

“So, tell me why you've been placed in detention, Susan.”

“You know that already... Sir! Let's get on with it,” she hissed, impatiently.

“No! I want you to tell me, in your own words, why you're in detention. I'm waiting...”

For several seconds, Sue said nothing, but glared angrily at Mr Benson. “As she must have told you... Sir... Miss Smith said I was inappropriately dressed... Sir!”

She spat words out, but Mr Benson was unfazed and calmly replied, “Tell me how you were inappropriately dressed, Susan.”

“You know why! Miss Smith must have told you... you... you, fu—” Her eyes were bulging with rage.

“Careful, Susan, you don't want to make things worse. But I want you to tell me. I want to hear an admittance of guilt, spoken in your own words.”

Sue rolled her eyes, and exhaled sharply, suggesting she was at the end of her tether and could thump Mr Benson at any moment. Deep down, I knew she was roleplaying, but at that moment I was captured by the unfolding events. Like Mr Benson, I also wanted to hear Sue explain why she was in detention.

“Er... my panties were not white, Sir,” she quietly explained. “Happy now, are you?”

“How could Miss Smith possibly have known, Susan?”

“'Because my bloody skirt flipped up in the wind when I was walking across the playground... Sir.”

Mr Benson smiled and adjusted his crotch. “I don't suppose it occurred to you that had you worn a skirt of respectable length that would not have happened, and Miss Smith might not have noticed what you were wearing beneath?”

“She's... she's a pervert! She would have found out one way or another. She would probably have sneeked into the changing rooms for a peep.”

“You do not talk about members of school staff in that way, Susan. Miss Smith is a highly respected member of our teaching establishment and there has never been any impropriety on her part.”

“Huh! Whatever! If you say so... Sir.”

“I do say so! Are you wearing white now?”

Sue's eyes lit up. This was an opportunity to flirt with her teacher, and maybe even embarrass him. “Yes, Sir... I'm more than happy to show you, Sir?” She jumped up from her chair.

“Ahem...” Mr Benson cleared his throat, pretending to be taken aback by this suggestion. “No, Susan... that would be very inappropriate and unbefitting my role as your teacher.”

“I don't mind, Sir. Surely, you have to know that I've learnt my lesson, and I'm now dressed correctly? I think you need to look, Sir, for peace of mind. I'm sure Miss Smith will ask you when you see her next.”

“Er... well... I suppose I would be failing in my duties if I didn't check for myself. Purely for official reasons, you understand. It's not something I'm comfortable doing, you realise. But remove your skirt, girl.”

Sue stood up and unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt, allowing it to drop to the floor, while adopting what was a seductive pose, with one hand on her hip and the other held behind her head.

“Do you like what you see, Sir?” she asked, running her tongue around her upper lip.

“Hands on head, girl!” shouted Mr Benson, his voice vibrating with excitement.

Sue did so, and, for several seconds, he focussed his gaze on the front of her white cotton panties. no doubt admiring her Mount of Venus and possibly spotting a camel toe.

He looked up at her. His breathing had become heavier and ragged. “Well... er... well, I'm pleased to see that you have decided to comply with school rules, Susan. Miss Smith was right to report you to me and I can now assure her that you are correctly attired. Now sit down again!”

“Shall I put my skirt back on, Sir?”

“Er... no... best keep it off. We don't have time for you to mess around.”

She smiled saucily at him, while he stared eagerly back at her.

But he was keen to go further. “Was... was there anything else she found at fault?” he asked, encouraging Sue to play her part. And, as he spoke, he deftly slipped a hand inside his trousers, keeping it there.

Sue was now in her element, “Yeah... now you mention it, the old bag whined that I was wearing a black bra beneath my white T-shirt. She couldn't take her eyes of my tits, Sir! Like I said, she's a pervert.”

“I will not have you talking about Miss Smith like that, Susan. And what sort of message do you think you're sending to the boys, prominently displaying your brassiere so all could see.”

“Brassiere, Sir?! No one calls them that! How bloody old are you?”

“That's none of your business, Susan, but I can tell you're wearing a white... erm... bra today.”

“How... how can you possibly tell, Sir?” Sue shrieked, while looking shocked.

“I... I can see the outline, through your T-shirt.”

“What?! Do you always stare at students' tits, Sir?”

So absorbed was Mr Benson in the roleplay that I swear his face flushed in embarrassment and his eyes shot up from Sue's boobs to her face. “I've warned you about your cheek, Susan!”

“I don't think you can be sure I'm wearing white, Sir. Maybe, er... I'm wearing cream. But that would be okay, wouldn't it, Sir?”

“Hmm... possibly... but the rules do specify white.”

“But cream might be all right, Sir? Not even Miss Smith would complain about cream, would she?”

“Perhaps not... but... but there are the rules to think about... The rules do stipulate white.”

He paused for a moment, gauging her reaction. Mr Benson, Sue and I all knew where this was going, but it had to proceed at its own pace.

“What are we going to do, Sir?”

He was staring closely at her boobs. “I can't be completely sure whether you're wearing white or cream.”

“What will you tell Miss Smith, Sir? She'll want to know. She'll insist on knowing.”

“Er... yes, I suppose she will, so... yes. Er... it's awkward for me to ask, but it's best you remove your top so I can check you're wearing white. Then I'll be able to confirm to Miss Smith that your behaviour meets school standards.”

Sue stood up and hesitated for a moment, but only for dramatic effect, before slowly pulling her T-shirt over her head, confirming that she was, indeed, wearing a plain white bra, in accordance with the rules.

“Hmmm... white, just as I thought, Susan, so you may sit— Hang on! What can I see under your bra?”

“Nothing, Sir. Well... nothing except my nipples, Sir. Everyone has nipples... Sir. Don't you have nipples, Sir?”

“Don't you dare try to be clever with me, Susan. I can see the outline of something that's odd-shaped. Take off your bra.”

“Oooh! Are you trying it on with me, Sir? I've heard about men like you.”

“No, I'm doing my job, damn you! This is very serious, now. Do as you are told, girl, or else,” he retorted, menacingly.

Pretending to be reluctant, Sue reached behind and unhooked her bra, allowing it to fall forward and revealing that she had a barbell piercing through each nipple.

“What?!” exclaimed Mr Benson, his eyes wide open. “What are you wearing, girl?”

“It's... it's just jewellery, Sir.”

“They're piercings! You know those are against the rules, Susan. You could be expelled for those.”

“Are they really against the rules?” she uttered, in faux surprise. “Noooh! Surely not?”

“You know they are, Susan! You've left me with no choice but to cane you, girl."

“No, Sir!” Sue screamed. “Please, Sir! Not the cane! I'm sorry, I really am.”

“No! It has to be the cane... you've left me with no choice, Susan. Rules are rules.”

Sue adopted a sad, puppy-dog expression, one I'd seen her put on before, in real life. “Is... is there not some other way that you could punish me, Sir? I'm really sorry for breaking the rules. Is there some way that I could show you how repentant I am, Sir? Some act of penance, maybe? An act of self-sacrifice, Sir? Something I might do to serve the school, Sir, and assuage my guilt? Something I might do to serve you personally, Sir, to show that I can be a good girl who seeks to please her superiors?”

She had spoken rapidly, seemingly out of desperation. Then, she dropped down on her knees in front of him, her palms clasped together, seeking forgiveness.

Mr Benson looked at her, hesitated, and then said, “Well... er... maybe there is some way that you could atone for your wrongdoing. So, I will let you off a caning, just this once, mind. But—”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Sir,” she screeched, clapping her hands together in sheer joy.

“But... I will have to spank you before I decide how you can serve me—sorry, serve the school, I mean!”

“Oh... Sir... not a spanking, please,” Sue pleaded, pretending to be downcast at the prospect.

“Yes... a spanking, girl!”

“But not on my bare bottom, surely? You're not allowed to do that, are you, Sir?”

“Under these circumstances, I most certainly can. Rules are rules, so get over my knees, Susan.”

With a dejected look, she lowered herself onto his lap. “Oh!!” she squealed. “What's that hard thing I can feel, Sir?”

“Nothing to concern you, Susan.”

He began spanking Sue's bottom, over her panties. Gently and rhythmically, he slapped alternate buttocks, pausing occasionally, to rub his hand over the soft cotton in a soothing action.

This continued for several minutes. I could see Sue's face, and I could tell that she was enjoying the sensation, despite playacting with the occasional wriggle and contrived yelp.

Then, melodramatically, he slowly peeled down her panties, revealing her bare flesh, which was already tinged pink.

Now the real punishment started. The intensity and frequency of the whacks increased, and the camera revealed that she soon had tears in her eyes—genuine tears. No longer were the wriggles a pretence, nor her yelps an act—Mr Benson was giving it all he could, and Sue was no longer relishing the experience.

He was soon pressing his free hand on her back, pinning her down, such was her writhing. She was becoming increasingly distressed, and once or twice I came close to escaping from the wardrobe to come to her rescue. Luckily, I remembered that she was being paid for this, and I guessed that Mr Benson was parting with a hefty sum for battering her backside in this manner. Besides, had she wanted to, I'm sure she could have slipped out of his grasp and dropped on to the carpet.

Eventually, the pummelling ended, her bottom now being bright red and almost glowing. “Get on your knees, facing me, girl,” he ordered, as he stood up. “And don't you dare rub your bottom,” he added, just as Sue's hands were planning to do just that.

“Sorry, Sir,” she replied, contritely.

“Now... now you need to show me what you have to do as an act of service, Susan,” he observed, excitedly.

“Yes, Sir,” she meekly answered.

She bent down, undid his shoelaces and removed his shoes. Then, she gazed up at the protruding tent pole in his trousers, her fingers nimbly undoing his top button. Peering up at his face, she slowly pulled down his zip, before placing a hand either side of his trousers and easing them down to his ankles.

His erection was still contained within his white underpants, but, using her teeth, Sue gently nudged them, so they joined the trousers around his ankles. He stepped out of them both, moments before Sue enveloped his manhood into her mouth, moving her lips back and forth.

I was also erect, and had been for some time, and it took all my willpower to resist playing with myself and possibly going too far. I was sure she was promising me sex and I had every intention of enjoying that.

Mr Benson was also enjoying himself. His eyes were closed as his mind escaped to another place. He put his hands gently on Sue's head, putting himself at least partially in control of her sucking. In return, she wrapped her arms around his thighs. They were bonded together, and I felt pangs of jealousy. I wanted to be where Mr Benson was.

I could sense he was getting close to cumming, so she backed off. Evidently, there was chemistry between the pair and Mr Benson was not merely a client, despite him no doubt paying her handsomely for this performance.

Now she was teasing him, and he was responding by moving his hips back and forth, vainly trying to increase the stimulation of his penis. Sue, though, was intent on dragging things out and it was several minutes before he reached the point of no return. Suddenly, he let out an ear-piercing scream, as his back arched and his knees crumpled. Sue held tightly on to him and milked his dick for every drop of seminal fluid there was.

She held him in her mouth, as he came down from his climax. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were still tightly shut. Only after an age, did he look down on her, a satisfied smile on his face. She pulled back, releasing his gooey weapon from her mouth, threads of semen and saliva hanging down from the tip in strands.

She stared up at him, her mouth wide-open for inspection. He liked what he saw. “You may swallow, Susan,” he said, quietly. “You can be a good girl, when you try hard. I hope you've learnt your lesson and you won't need to serve another detention,” he lied.

Sue smiled back and swallowed several times, seeking to rid her mouth of his jism. “I'll always try to be a good girl, Sir,” she answered, quietly.

oooOOooo

Then she stood up, still completely starkers if I discounted her panties which were stuck mid-thigh but which she proceeded to remove.

“That's £500, Tim,” she explained, adopting a businesslike manner. (What?! I couldn't believe what I was hearing! £500?)

“Heh? It was only £400 last time!” Even Mr Benson sounded surprised.

“That's inflation for you, Tim. And you definitely experienced some inflation...”

He smiled at her quip, before saying, “Sorry, I can't afford £500, Sue. Can we settle on less? As old friends?”

“How much less?”

“I've only got £300. Will that do?”

“Hang on?! Last time you paid me £400, now you say you've only brought £300 with you. You're messing me around, Tim.”

“Sorry, Sue. Finances are a bit stretched at present. What do you say to £300?”

“I'm not happy, but I guess you've left me with no choice. With any other punter, I would have demanded money up front.”

“Sorry...”

“Hmm... well, I'll reduce it to £300 if you follow my instructions to the letter.”

“Er... what instructions, Sue?” he asked.

“You'll find out in a minute, Tim. But I'll give you a clue... if you agree to the £300, you get to keep the undies I've been wearing.”

“Oooh! I don't understand, but £300 is all yours.”

He picked up his trousers and pulled a wad of banknotes from his back pocket which he passed to her.

“Thank you, Tim,” she said, sweetly. “Shall we go and see knobhead?”

He laughed. “Ah, yes! Dear old knobhead! I remember him well. And you said he'd be watching us via that camera over there?”

“Yeah, that's right. He'll have seen every moment and he's going to be as stiff as a ramrod.”

“So where is he?”

“In the wardrobe, in the next room.”

Mr Benson let out a bellowing laugh. “In the blasted wardrobe. How pathetic!”

“That's where he goes when I'm entertaining a guest, Tim. He knows his place!”

oooOOooo

Seconds later, the pair were in my bedroom and Sue opened the wardrobe door. “Look, there he is, Tim!”

Mr Benson peered into the small space, as my eyes blinked in response to the light now flooding in. He was naked from the waist down, his now shrunken tool still glistening from Sue's attention. In his hands were the white panties and bra that Sue had been wearing not long before—they were now his.

“Come on, knobhead,” urged Sue, “Get out.”

I crawled out, but it took a while for my muscles to start working again. She joined me in rubbing my legs and arms to get the circulation going, while Mr Benson stared disdainfully at me.

“My, God, Sue, so he still wears your panties? I remember you telling me that he was a pansy,” he sneered.

“Oh, you remember? I must have told you that years ago.”

“Yes, but I recall it clearly. It amused me at the time. You told me you wanted a real man, and not someone who wanted to dress in your undies every day. Oh, God! I'm sorry... he did know we were having an affair, didn't he?”

“Ye—” I started to say.

“Shut up, knobhead! Yes, I think he knew—or strongly suspected.”

“I recall you wearing scarlet panties for a couple of our trysts.”

“They might be the same pair, Tim,” Sue giggled.

Mr Benson smiled lecherously, and took a step towards Sue, but she side-stepped. “You've had your turn, Tim. Take your shirt and tie off,” she ordered. “I want you naked.”

“What? Why?” he asked. Clearly, any pre-session agreement he'd reached with Sue hadn't covered this part of the proceedings.

“Just do what I said!” Sue replied, sounding irritated.

He hurriedly did what she bid him to do, and his penis began to grow in size again.

“Now put on the bra and panties,” she instructed.

“What? Now?”

“Yes, now!”

Fortunately, I suppose, he was a slim man for his age so I reckoned the underwear would fit him. He pulled the panties up his legs and, by the time they were in place, his penis was fully engorged. The bra posed more of a problem. Not because it was too small, but because he was useless at doing it up and Sue had to hook it together for him.

Sue nipped into the spare room and came back holding Mr Benson's trousers, shirt and shoes.

“Now get dressed,” she ordered. “You're going home!”

“What? No? I can't go home on the bus wearing these undies,” he cried.

“That erection says otherwise, Tim,” she responded, grabbing his dick.

Like me, I suppose, Mr Benson was sex-driven, and Sue knew how to press the right buttons. Despite his better judgement, he put his trousers, shirt and shoes on over Sue's underwear. His bra was clearly visible through his white shirt.

“What... what are people going to say, Sue?” he asked. “Let me take the bra off and just keep the knickers on... please.”

“You chose to underpay me, and, in return, you agreed to follow my instructions, Tim.”

“Yes, but I didn't know this is what you intended.”

“Well... now you do know. It'll be another £100 if you want to disobey me, Tim. Or else you'll never see me again. And you'd miss me, Tim.” To emphasise that, she hugged him tightly and kissed him on the lips.

Mr Benson was in a dilemma. He was obviously a regular client of Sue's, but he couldn't afford the full rate. “Yeah... you're right. I would miss our sessions. So, I'll... er... do what you say, Sue—just this once.”

She gave him a big smile. “See you next time, Tim. Good luck on the bus! Dave... put your dressing gown on and show Mr Benson out. Make sure he doesn't try to take his bra off before he leaves.”

I stood up and faced him. Me being a few inches taller than him and a little more muscular, he looked cowed by my looming presence. I had no intention of frogmarching him out, but he couldn't be sure, so he replied. “Okay, Sue, I'm sure I'll manage on bus, somehow.”

He made his way down the stairs, with me following, just in case he decided to rebel against Sue's instructions. “Bye, Mr Benson. Who's the pansy now?” I laughed as he left the house.

He turned around, didn't say anything, but stuck up two fingers. I laughed and closed the door.

oooOOooo

Going back upstairs, I found Sue was lying on my bed, still completely naked.

“Time for your reward, knobhead,” she called. “I'm gagging for it, and I'm all yours. You can go on top... at least for the first round!”

“Don't you have a sore bum?” I asked.

“Yes, but the tingling turns me on even more!”

I joined her on the bed.

“Keep those panties on—just pull them down a bit. I like you in panties,” she reminded me. “We're going to have fun!”