Made to Obey Ch. 05

"Do I have a say in it?" was all I could reply.

Ruth smiled, and then laughed. She started to get undressed and watched me as she slid out of her clothes and stood there in her stockings and briefs.

"No Carl, you don't really," she said matter-of-factly, almost sweetly. "I'm glad you're beginning to accept that."

The next day -- Friday - I wasn't able to take advantage of my knowing where the key was. I really had to go and do some work; not having my laptop to work on didn't help. Besides, it may have made Ruth suspicious if I'd said I was staying at home.

Saturday, well, that was a no-no too. We sometimes did the weekly shop of a morning - when not using the home delivery service - and then spent the rest of the day together. Not so long ago, we'd have probably made love too. This Saturday afternoon though, I was washing the used underwear and cooking our evening meal.

I was not looking forward to the Sunday though. Max and Donna had invited us round for tea and, naturally, we had to go.

Ruth looked lovely in a white, flared dress with a black belt tight about her waist, highlighting her trim figure: she reminded me a bit of Audrey Hepburn. I wore dark-grey chinos and a light-blue cotton shirt. (If you must know, I had on pink panties with a pair of cherries embroidered on the front.)

Donna greeted us on arrival and gave Ruth a little peck on the cheek and a cuddle. Her greeting to me was rather more formal.

"Hello Carl. Go in. Max is keen to see you."

Donna looked gorgeous, also in a flared dress, a black one with a white belt and -- almost as if to taunt me -- black stockings.

Max was seated in his usual chair in the living room and gave me a warm greeting.

"Come in Carl, how are things going? How are your properties doing, bought any new ones recently?"

Ruth entered behind me and walked over to her father and gave him a big kiss.

"Aren't you going to say hello to me first before talking business?" she chided him.

"Oh, sorry love. How are you? You look well."

"I'm fine thanks dad, we're both fine. Aren't we Carl?"

"Yes Max, everything's hunk-dory. You're looking well too. How are you feeling"

"Oh, not so bad lad. Been getting a bit tired lately but that's the damn medication I suppose."

We chatted on about the business side of things and I told him how Ruth and I had just had our medical and that the loan was in the bag now. Needless to say, I didn't tell him all about the prostate examination. The only thing about the medicals that I told him that made him raise an eyebrow was the cost of the damn things and the premiums we were paying.

Ruth, perhaps still feeling a little guilty about her getting Doctor Dhawan to give me that "extra" examination, agreed she'd drive home so that I could have a few drinks.

Once dinner was nearly ready to be served, Donna invited us all into the dining room; I helped Max up and into his seat.

Conversation was civil and, to the unaware -- like Max - contained no edge or double-entendres. Apart from Ruth, we all had a few glasses of red wine and Donna was the perfect host. Donna had made a point of asking me -- well, rather telling me -- in a somewhat aloof tone, to get this or take that to and from the kitchen, but, in the absence of any other barbed comments, I supposed maybe I was just being too thin-skinned in taking umbrage at her.

The meal had been most enjoyable and, after desserts, Ruth gathered her parents around her laptop, now centre-stage on the dining table, so that they could skype Esther. I took up a seat a little way away from the family, not wanting to say much more than an "hello" to the woman whose underwear I'd been seen in.

The Giffords exchanged the usual greetings and questions about well-beings, Max re-assuring Esther that he was bearing up well. Then, to my pleasure, he added how delighted he was that I'd now become a part of his business team, and that he had become more relaxed knowing that I, a man with expertise in the property world, could be left to handle things on his behalf. The statement was not met with any nods or words of approval by the women, I noticed, but Max didn't seem to notice this and carried on extolling my importance to his project. When all news had been exhausted, they said their farewells and best wishes and ended the video call.

Donna then suggested Max and I retired to the conservatory to have our coffees and where we could discuss business in private. She and Ruth had some sorting out to do upstairs and would have their drinks later. We agreed and I helped Max up and out to the conservatory, feeling quite buoyed by knowing the three women now appreciated just how central I was to his well-being -- and his big project.

Once Max was seated, I returned to the kitchen to get our drinks.

Donna greeted me with a smile, it unnerved me a little. She'd started to pour the coffee and asked if we'd like biscuits too.

"Max might like a digestive or two, and you I gather, are rather fond of a chocolate-finger!" she smirked.

Ruth, who'd been hovering nearby gave me a sheepish smile.

"Digestives will do fine thanks," I replied, trying not to show any sign of embarrassment. I took the tray with the drinks and digestives on, thanking Donna as I did so, but she cautioned me before I'd taken a step.

"I think Max has had enough alcohol for now. So, just in case he tries to get you to pour him a large whisky before I return, tell him no. He knows better than to ask me."

"Okay Donna, I've got that," and I returned to the conservatory with the tray.

For the first ten minutes or so, our conversation was mostly about the new development, timescales, costings, contractors and the like. It was only when I asked him how he'd managed to secure planning permission that things got really interesting.

"Contacts Carl, contacts. Cultivated over many years I can tell you. A good deed here, a bit of hospitality there. You've got into that already no doubt, what with playing golf and charity dinners and suchlike."

I nodded. Maybe without intending too, I'd cultivated business friends and both helped and been helped by them on the back of our friendships.

"But, with planning-permission, isn't that -- well, breaking the rules?"

Max gave me a paternalistic smile. "Nonsense. Rules, especially planning rules are open to interpretation. There's an old saying, something like 'Rules are for sheep to follow and wise men to interpret.' You just need to get the people who matter to make the right interpretation."

"And if they won't?"

"They usually do. They did on this occasion, but if not, then you've got to be a man, put your foot down, remind them that you've done them favours in the past and can do so again. It usually works, it's like with women, you've got to show them who's the boss. Sure, give way on some things, the less important things but, when push comes to shove, you've got to be the boss."

"I suppose you're right there Max." I tried to sound convincing in my response.

"Talking of which," Max continued, "as Donna and Ruth won't be back down for a few minutes, you know where the whisky's kept, just nip out and pour me a small one, in this cup, I've finished the coffee. Be a sport."

"Well, I'm not really supposed to," I started. "What about your medication? Donna reckons you shouldn't really be having whisky with that."

"Nonsense. If alcohol was verboten, why was she pouring me wine at dinner eh? Look, if we carry on arguing about it, it'll be too late, the chance will be gone. A quick snifter now will help me sleep like a baby, honest."

He held out his cup and I gave in, stepping briskly into the living-room and pouring him a decent measure from the whisky bottle there.

"Good lad Carl, good lad. Like I was saying earlier..." he paused to take a drink, coughing slightly as he did so, "contacts. You've got to cultivate your contacts. You'll be going to Maurice Morris's annual evening barbecue this week, won't you?"

"Yes, I guess so. I'd forgotten about that what with one thing and another. We've been the last few years. It's always a good do"

"Well put yourself about, he always has loads of influential people there. If I was up to it, I'd go, but nowadays I'm too tired by the time it gets going."

Maurice Morris, known to his friends as "Moggsy", was a bit of a local celebrity who'd made his money in the show business world as a promoter and manager of some quite well-known artists. I'd got to know him following a charity dinner where we'd both bid for the same item -- an autographed footballer's shirt. Although he was nearer Max's age than mine, we got on well together in the ensuing conversation and he'd invited me and Ruth to his annual bash every year since then. He'd known Max and the Giffords for some years and, it was even possible that it might have been him who had cautioned me against chatting-up Esther.

Donna returned some time later, long after Max had finished his whisky. She looked quite angrily at me, but said nothing at first as she told Max it was now getting late and it was time he went to bed.

She helped Max to his feet (it didn't help that he stumbled a little as he did so). As Max said his goodnight to me, and took his wife's arm as she led him away, Donna turned to me and scowled.

"I'll have words with you later young man."

I got up and went to join Ruth in the living room.

"Is mum angry with you?" she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "A little maybe. I just gave your dad a little whisky that's all. He just wanted a last nightcap, no harm in that surely?"

Max's talk about being a man and showing the women who the boss was, was still fresh in my memory. I mean, bloody-hell, the guy just wanted a little snorter before retiring for the evening. What was so wrong with that?

Donna's entrance into the room came with an air of menace.

"Sit down Carl."

I sat on the nearest chair.

"You got Max a whisky, didn't you? What did I tell you before?"

I tried to man-up, to show that I was not to be bossed around.

"Donna, look, he just wanted a little nightcap, that's all. He swore it wouldn't do him any harm. And anyway, he's entitled to a little of what he fancies isn't he? It shows he's not letting his age and illness get on top of him."

"But I expressly told you not too, didn't I?"

"Well yes, but for fuck's sake, I..."

Before I could finish my sentence, Ruth had stepped towards me and slapped my face, really hard.

"Don't you ever, ever, swear at mum like that -- do you hear!"

Although still surprised by the slap and hurting from its ferocity, I foolishly tried to make my defence; tried to be the master of the situation like I thought Max would have been.

"But it was only a small whisky for heaven's sake. Bloody hell, he really enjoyed it too. Why deny him that small pleasure?"

"Right, that's enough," Ruth said, taking a seat nearby me and sitting down. "You need to be punished for your language and disobedience. Take your chinos and panties down and lay over my knee. You're going to get a good spanking."

"For fuck's sake Ruth. What are you playing at? I'm not going to do that, not in a million years. This whole humiliation thing, this punishment, this revenge caper, it's all gone too far. Just, just...calm down. Besides, you'll wake Max up."

"Oh, he'll be well away now," Donna interrupted, "in fact I can hear him snoring even now. Now, do as Ruth says. Take your trousers down and get ready for a spanking. I'm going to give you a leathering too when Ruth's finished."

"Keep quiet you interfering bitch."

This was surreal; madness. I'd started to fight back against my subservience and couldn't back down now, I had to refuse and let them know I was serious.

"In your dreams Donna. And yours Ruth. All I did was give him a bloody drink, get real. It wasn't some serious criminal act."

Donna spat out at me, "Do as you're told you little faggot."

She raised her hand and was about to slap me, hard, but I reached out and grabbed her wrist before her blow could land. I could feel the fury behind her foiled strike and I twisted her arm a little to make her try and wriggle free. I shoved her away from me, telling her to stay out of this. She stepped back a little, stroking the wrist I'd just grasped as though trying to soothe pain I'd caused.

Ruth, fuming at my outburst, shouted at me to stay away from her mum and rushed into the dining room, returning with her laptop. She turned it on and, within a minute was seemingly typing away and asking her mother to remove the belt from her dress so that she could spank me with it.

"Are you going to do as I say Carl and remove your clothing or do I have to send this email?"

I looked at her in horror. What was she on about? I gave her a quizzical look and she began to read out what was on the screen in front of her, or at least what would soon be on it when she'd finished typing.

"Hi Gordon. I's sorry to have to ask you this but, it's about your brother. He seems to have had a secret desire to dress up in women's underwear. Were you aware of this? I caught him secretly wearing my sister's panties the other day -- I attach a picture I took of him when I caught him out. Did he ever do this sort of thing as a boy? As you're the father of young children, I think I ought to warn you in case he..."

"Okay, okay. Don't send it, please. Please Ruth, don't tell my brother, I just couldn't bear that."

I'd not seen my elder brother for maybe eight months. He lived about 200 miles away and was the headmaster of a large school. He was married with two sons and a daughter. I couldn't bear the thought of them knowing my shame and asking their mum and dad if they knew Uncle Carl was a "pansy".

Ruth continued typing as I pleaded with her, then, with an evil grin and an extravagant flourish of her index-finger, made a point of pressing what she knew I'd guess was the key to "send" her text.

"Oops. Oh dear! I seemed to pressed "send," she snarled at me.

"You bitch Ruth, and you Donna, you bitches. You've totally destroyed me now you cows..." But Ruth put her hand up to silence me.

"Stop that language now, do you hear. I haven't sent it, but I've made a draft and will send it if you don't obey me, if you don't apologise now and take your punishment. Do you understand?"

I nodded. Although my temper was up, I could see who held all the aces -- it sure wasn't me.

"Mum, your belt please. Now, Carl apologise and come over here."

"I'm sorry Ruth, sorry Donna. Very sorry. For my disobedience and my bad language."

"Okay," Ruth began, "take your shoes off and then your chinos and then come and bend over my knee."

Donna watched me closely as I did as I was told, I began to tremble as I moved towards where Ruth was seated.

"Now, take your panties down and bend over me, lie across my knees. Mum, your belt please."

Donna handed the belt to her daughter and I nervously leant over her knees as ordered.

"Lean further over Carl, that's right, get that little pansy bum of yours further up in the air. Now, I don't want any tears do you hear. You asked for this didn't you?"

"Yes dear."

Then, closing my eyes and gritting my teeth, I felt the rush of air away from my buttocks the fraction of a second before the belt landed. I let out a stifled yelp, it was hard not to scream, the pain was just so sharp, so stinging. I stopped counting the number of times Ruth spanked me, it was about ten, I think. Then she told me to stand up. I did so, immediately rubbing my hand across my bare behind to help diffuse the pain somehow. But my punishment was not over yet. Donna came forward and was now seated in front of me and with the belt in her hand.

"Bend over again, and try not to yelp so loudly this time," she said, quite calmly, as though she uttered such words on a regular basis.

Donna's lashes were slightly lower down -- on the back of my thighs and hurt like hell. After maybe six on each leg, she then gave me another six for good measure on my already sore and stinging buttocks.

When she'd finished, she told me to stand, pull my panties up and go and stand in the corner of the room with my back to them until they told me to get dressed. I didn't argue.

Pulling my pink panties with the two cherries on up over the intensely sensitive skin of my butt, I made my way over to the corner of the room appalled at the thought of what Max would think of me if he knew what had just happened. I could hear the clicks of a mobile-phone camera taking pictures of me. So much for me standing up for myself, for standing up to the women. I'd miscalculated so badly.

The two women got up to leave the room, ordering me to stay exactly where I was and not to dare move until they said I could.

I could hear their voices in another room although could not make out what they were saying. I was in tears, not just because of the pain that still burnt in my behind but also because of the situation I found myself in; I could see no way out, not even if Esther confirmed I'd no previous signs of shemale / crossdressing interest.

After some 20 minutes or so of standing in the corner, Ruth returned and ordered me to get dressed and come with her as we were leaving.

As we arrived at the door, Donna gave her daughter a kiss goodbye and shot me a stern look.

"You, Carla, pick up these two bags and put them in your boot. And let tonight be a lesson to you, understand?"

I nodded and picked up the bags which were not heavy, they probably contained clothes. Maybe they were for a jumble sale, maybe they were for me to wash or wear!

I never corrected Donna calling me Carla; perhaps I misheard, anyway, this wasn't the time to query it.

Ruth hardly spoke to me as she drove us home. I was fidgeting in my seat as my bum still hurt. My wriggling seemed to annoy Ruth who told me a number of times to try and sit still.

Once home, I carried the two bags indoors and left them in the hall. Ruth locked the door behind her and ushered me into the living room.

"I bought you a shorty pink nightie in Liverpool, go upstairs and change into it, then come down here and sit down. I'm going to get a drink and then we need to talk."

I did as I was told and came down looking ridiculous in my short nightie which only just covered my genitals when I sat. At least Ruth was talking to me in a less angry, more considered tone. I let her take a sip of her large drink (gin and tonic I think) and kept my head lowered in shame, letting her see I knew she was in charge. I nervously waited for her to speak.

"God almighty Carla, what came over you tonight? I tell you honestly, you really frightened me. I thought you might actually hit me or mum. If you had have done, that would have been it. We'd be finished and all your family and friends would find out about you."

"Look, I would never hit either of you, I just parried her strike on me, you must see that. I never raised a hand to her -- or you -- I'd never ever do such a thing."

Ruth never answered straight away, she leant back in her seat and took another, slow sip from her drink, watching me intently as she did so.

"No Carla, I know you're not a violent person, at least not in normal circumstances, but these aren't normal times, are they? What if the next time you do go over the top? How can I be sure you won't lose it and thump me or mum or Esther?"

"I promise, I would never..."

But she raised her eyebrows and enlarged her already big eyes, signalling for me to be quiet.

"I can't take that chance, so here's what I've decided to do. Mum thinks it's right too. I'm going to tell someone, maybe a couple of people, people who I know can keep a secret, about your sissy traits; show them a picture or two and tell them that, if any harm should ever come to me, if they see me with a black-eye or the like, they're to go to the police and let them know you may be responsible."