Made to Obey Ch. 09

I nodded to confirm.

"Oh, and see if you can purloin a few biscuits from the boardroom too. I'll have my usual too thanks."

Joyce, a smartly dressed woman in her early fifties, duly went away to do her master's bidding. I wondered if she felt about Bowser's manner with her what Penny thought about me.

We made the usual small talk about family, cricket, the weather and suchlike until Joyce returned with our drinks and biscuits and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

"So, Carl, what brings you to old Bowser's office? You don't want me to check up on Big Max's will now do you? I hear he's not in great health."

I explained how, whilst it was nothing to be worried about, I thought he ought to be made aware that my finances were going to be closely scrutinised, including that period when we had our "special" arrangement. When Bowser asked why this was taking place, I explained about my taking out a large loan to buy into Max's latest venture. That seemed to satisfy him.

"Wise move old chap, tagging on the Gifford surname to yours. No doubt that got you into Max's good books -- if you weren't already. But, as long as you followed my instructions, I can't see that you -- we -- have anything to fear. You did follow my instructions, didn't you?"

Bowser leant back, awaiting my answer, breaking a Bourbon biscuit in half before eating it and then taking a sip of his tea; public school educated fellows didn't dunk I remembered thinking.

"Yes, Bowser, yes. To the letter. I just thought you needed to know, that's all."

"Well nothing to worry about then old chap. Who's doing the checking? The loan company? "

"It's Donna, Max's wife actually who's doing the check-up. A bit late now as I'm all signed-up to Max's consortium, but Donna's only now got the time to do it. She says she likes to go through things to satisfy her everything's above board. Standard procedure for her I gather."

Bowser's face turned a little more serious. He took another sip of tea.

"Donna you say? Oh, that's a bit unfortunate. You might have been bowled a Yorker * there old chap. I really hope you've been as careful as I asked."

My surprised look invited him to elaborate.

"Look, I'm not sure where I got this from, maybe Kay or from someone Kay knows who knows Donna, but you do know that Donna was something of a star tax expert before she met Max?"

"Yes," I nodded, "I knew she worked on his accounts. That's how she got to know him."

"Well, and this is only second or third hand, rumour has it that some chap working on one of his sites years ago was seriously injured due to some faulty work or equipment-- scaffolding or a wall or something fell on him. The Health and Safety crew very nearly prosecuted Max for negligence, in the end they didn't have sufficient evidence. It seems though, that -- and again I stress this is only gossip -- some time later, Donna was going through his books and found out that he'd covered up from the Health and Safety wallahs that he'd bought sub-standard safety gear or something like that - although he'd put it through the books as top-end stuff - and that had resulted in the poor worker being injured. She's one smart cookie Carl. Don't underrate her."

"No, I won't Bowser, but, like I said, I followed your instructions to the letter."

"Good. Those Gifford women -- how is the lovely Ruth by the way? -- they're smarter than the average. Take my word for it, from what Kay's heard, they want their pound of flesh from any men that cross them."

"I know Bowser. Plenty warned me -- maybe you were one of them -- to steer clear of Esther. I've heard about her and the chastity cage."

Bowser looked a little surprised. "I've heard the chastity cage story, but it wasn't to do with Esther. At least that's not what Kay heard."

"Then who?"

"Donna. Rumour has it, when she uncovered his -- shall we say malpractice -- she demanded Max wore a chastity device or she'd blow the whistle on him. Incredible, but that's how the story goes."

"No Bowser. That can't be right. Why, only the other day Moggsy told me it was Esther who tried to clamp her ex in one of those things, but he wouldn't stand for it."

"Maybe that's true as well Carl, but, so a friend of Kay's says, Max went on a club outing to some big race meeting. They'd all had a good day and drank too much. On the coach home, Max was desperate for a pee and when they pulled in to some pub car park, he raced into the toilet. This friend of Kay's, well, her husband was on the coach too, he was dying for a pee as well and he followed not far behind. He reckoned that the only cubicle in the gents was in use, so Max had to use the urinal. This chap reckoned that he saw him peeing through what he described as something like a lobster-pot with a lock on! Hard to believe I know. What man would let himself be subject to that?"

"Yes, crazy. You'd have to be mad," I agreed.

"Anyway," Bowser continued, "all I'm saying is don't underestimate Donna. If you've covered your tracks like I asked, everything will be fine. You do realise that if our little "enterprise" was exposed, we'd both get porridge?"

I nodded. I was fully aware of the consequences.

"I'd get what? Maybe six years, you might get off with four. We don't want that now do we?"

I left Bowser a little less confident than I had anticipated. I'll explain now just what we had done.

Bowser was the solicitor with acting Power of Attorney for a widow then in her 90's -- a Mrs Enid Mercer. The only beneficiary in her will was her sole surviving family member, a nephew in his sixties and himself in poor health who lived in New Zealand.

Once Bowser found out that my divorce was completely over and done with and that Amanda had got all she was going to get off me, he quietly suggested that he could help me get my property business back on the road, but that I had to do exactly as he said and that there must be no trace of Bowser's "fingerprints" whatsoever.

I was to make a mock Estate Agent's letter valuing Enid Mercer's house at £120,000. When Mrs Mercer died, Bowser would fax this valuation to the nephew saying that it was too low and to hang on for more. I was then to create another valuation from a different fictional Estate Agency, rating the house at £125,00. Bowser would recommend the nephew (a chap called Raymond Williamson) reject this too. Then, I was to send in a false builder's survey on the property stating that it was in a terrible state of repair and needed time and big money spending on it, quoting something like £20,000 to put things right. (He suggested I included some mention of a particularly troublesome weed -- he couldn't remember the name of it and neither could I when we first discussed it). He'd fax this to the nephew who by now, Bowser reckoned, would be chomping-at-the-bit to get his hands on the money before he too passed away. Whilst all this was going on, Bowser would hand me lots of small sums of cash which I was to bank until I had enough in the account to persuade the bank to advance me a loan, sufficient to allow me to buy a property for £130,000.

Then, I would -- in my own name -- offer £130,000 for a quick purchase of the Mercer house. Bowser would recommend it be sold, the nephew would readily agree and then, some months later, after I'd carried out the minor work the house really needed, sell the house at auction for its real worth -- about £380,000. I'd then pay back Bowser's loan to me and we'd split the profit (after legal fees and loan interest charges), 60/40 to Bowser. The nephew didn't use the internet and, as he hadn't come to the UK for Mr. Mercer's funeral, was almost certain not to come over when Mrs Mercer died. Bowser reckoned the nephew had no idea about property prices in the UK and would be very happy just to get his hands on the £130,000 (minus fees of course).

It worked like a dream. Bowser handed me sums of cash over the months we had to wait before Mrs Mercer died, and I banked these. Bowser insisted I never pay in the same, well-rounded sums each time as that might look suspicious if ever queried by the bank or by another solicitor. So, I paid in amounts that didn't always start with the same numbers or always end in zeroes. The largest deposit (of £9,228), was after I'd accompanied Bowser to a race meeting with a group of business acquaintances. Bowser secretly handed me about £10,000 in notes and told me to get drinking with some of the people in the group and, after the last race, make a great show of flashing all this cash about in front of them, telling them that I'd won it betting on the horses. That would then give me an alibi if anyone ever had cause to query how I came to have that amount of money. I followed the plan to the letter.

Thanks to this little ruse, I made enough money to start my business up again after my divorce, and this time deal in better class houses with bigger profit margins than I'd had to work with up until then.

This all happened before I started courting Ruth. Ruth got to meet Bowser (and Kay), indeed we invited them to our wedding but they couldn't attend, Kay's parents were taking them on holiday to Kenya and they couldn't back out of it. Ruth never knew Henry's nickname thankfully or she'd have realised who that Gmail that Esther referred to was for.

Bowser got made a partner at the law firm a couple of years later and, on the few occasions we mentioned our little scam, insisted that he'd never ever go down that route again. He confided that, at the time, he was a little ashamed that Kay was earning more than him (she was a lecturer at the University and sat on any number of committees) and that her parents seemed to take great pleasure in bringing this up in conversation. He wanted to get hold of a large enough pot of money not to have to rely on Kay and her family to pay for things. I was very flattered that Bowser entrusted me with all of this cash but he reckoned I'd showed on the cricket field I was an honourable type so took the chance of involving me in his scheme.

The news about Max being caged by Donna though came as a complete shock -if it was true.

I went home that afternoon and changed into the same dress Ruth had made me wear the day before. I kept the same panties on and didn't bother with stockings. There was little or no housework for me to do apart from make myself something to eat and, although I knew Ruth still had more clothes for me from her recent shopping trip, as there were still in bags in her bedroom, I didn't risk taking a peek. Neither did I bother trying to find a key to my chastity cage. I tried to relax and watch some television, my only immediate concerns being how Ruth would react to my having my hair cut so short and whether Donna might start asking awkward questions about all the various bank account deposits I'd been making at the time of my scheme with Bowser.

It was shortly after 9:30p.m. when Ruth arrived back from Birmingham. By that time, I'd changed into my shorty pyjama bottoms and matching top (yellow with blue and green flowers on them) with frills at the cuffs and bottom of the legs. She was tired and didn't seem to mind my new haircut as much as I'd feared. She did though pull me up for not addressing her as ma'am. Still, calling her that was a price worth paying if it meant I'd get to have sex with her again.

The next few weeks were quite uneventful. I'd heard nothing from Esther -- which may have been down to her still working on her backlog rather than being unable to find out anything contradictory about my "Bowser" Gmail explanation -- or from Donna. Penny had not embarrassed me in front of Marsha by making me call her "Miss Penny" when Marsha was within earshot, and Ruth had been pleasant and friendly too, only really getting annoyed with me when I forgot to call her ma'am.

On one evening, Ruth brought her shopping bags into the bedroom and showed me the various items of clothing she'd been buying me. I won't list them all as I'm sure that would bore you, but there were a number of dresses and blouses as well as hosiery and panties. She must have spent quite a bit on me; I suppose I ought to have been flattered by that. There were also a few pairs of high-heeled shoes which she'd made me try on and try to walk around in. I managed without too much trouble but did wonder when she expected me to wear them; surely one didn't wear high-heels around the house!

My birthday was fast approaching and my sense of excitement and anticipation was growing with each day. Two days before my birthday, I had to drive to Max and Donna's house to pick them up and take us to a meeting in Manchester with our architect, a woman from the town planning department and our main building contractor. The meeting itself, which took well over 2 hours, was not particularly eventful and, on the drive back to my in-law's house, Donna suggested we call in at a country pub and have a drink and a bite to eat. Max was keen and I didn't dare disagree with anything Donna said, so we called in at a rather classy place called "The Three Goats". Our conversation over the drinks and food was pleasant and Donna gave no hint at all to Max that their son-in-law had anything to be ashamed of. I though, was acutely aware that the last time this woman had seen me before today, I was bent over her knees getting my bare bottom spanked.

In due course, Max asked to be excused to go to the toilet, leaving me alone with Donna for the first time that day. I felt awkward; not sure what to say. Should I talk about the meeting we'd just had or what?

Donna was in a smart, black business suit with a shiny white low-cut blouse, stockings (I assumed) and black high-heeled shoes. I concentrated hard on looking at her face when we talked and didn't try to get a peak down her blouse (unlike our building contractor earlier, who was clearly impressed by her cleavage). Before I could think of what to say to her, Donna beat me to it.

"I've just had a chance these last few days to have a look at your bank statements that Esther brought round. Interesting."

She left it at that, knowing I'd have to ask why, which I did.

"Well Carla, have you ever heard of "Bemford's Law"?

I hadn't. Donna went on to explain that, generally, it referred to the number distribution in most sets of figures, and how these usually follow a distinct pattern. When this wasn't the case, it was often a case of fraud.

"How interesting," was all I could answer.

"Yes. It is interesting. When you were married, all your statements complied with that particular numerical law. But just after you got divorced, for the next two years or so, they all failed the Bemford's law distribution pattern. Then, suddenly they all reverted back to complying with it and have done to this day. Why do you think that is Carla?"

I was dying for Max to return from his toilet visit so that we'd have to change the subject and I could get a chance to think of a plausible answer -- not that I was confident that I could come up with one.

"Look Donna, those years after my divorce were pretty tough. I had to do jobs and take on projects I wouldn't normally have tackled, deal with tradesmen and the like who might not always have done things by the book; you know what I mean? In fact, on reflection, I'd have been even more surprised if my financial goings-on then were what you'd call "normal". "

Donna didn't look impressed by my answer, but in the circumstances, I thought I'd not made too bad an effort.

Then I decided to change tack.

"Max seems to have been gone a while. Do you think he's alright? Would you like me to go and check on him for you?"

"No Carla, I'm sure he's fine. He's often this long nowadays. Maybe give him another five minutes or so."

At this point, I decided, quite impulsively to ask Donna if Max too, like me, had been fitted with a chastity device. Donna threw back her head and laughed.

"Oh, you've heard that rumour too. Actually, yes, it is true. It's my way of..."

"Punishing him?" I suggested.

"No. Not punish, but more educate him, get him to realise where he stood in our relationship. For all his braggadocio and swagger, I'm the boss. His cage makes sure he never forgets that. I call the shots where Max Gifford is concerned and Ruth calls the shots with you now, yes?"

I blushed and nodded.

"And don't you forget that. I always impressed upon my girls that any weakness their partner shows should be exploited by them. Physically, we may be the weaker sex and might be discriminated against by men, but we retain power if we know how to use it. That day when we came back to Esther's, well, what a gift that was for Ruth. We couldn't believe our luck. You were well and truly trapped, like some fly crawling into a Venus fly-trap ..." She cupped her hands and then slammed them shut to imitate that plant.

"Snap. We'd got you. It's up to Ruth now how she uses you, but you'll never be in a position to boss my little girl around now, will you?" she laughed.

Max returned from his toilet visit and our conversation returned to more everyday topics.

The Saturday morning of my birthday came around without further incidents or disclosures and I could hardly wait for Ruth to give me the call to take my pleasure with her. I could see from the sparkle in her eyes that she too was enjoying our -- her -- game of extreme prick teasing. First though, she made me open the birthday presents she and Esther and Donna had bought me.

I'd been made to dress in a quite sticky-out, frilly red dress and wear a silk petticoat underneath. These I wore over a tiny scarlet silk G-string that barely had enough fabric to cover my chastity cage. I had to wear a pair of white, knee-high socks that had a frilly edge around the top and a pair of flat, black shoes. Carla had wanted me to paint my nails too, but I manned-up and objected to this. Perhaps because it was my birthday, she relented.

This outfit, together with other apparel was Ruth's present to me. Esther's was a pair of chokers, one in black the other in pink, both with a white lace trim and with a small set of bells on them that chimed when I moved; Ruth made me put on the pink choker. There was also an ankle chain which also had small bells on it. Ruth said I could leave those off for today but that I must always wear them when I was in the house from then on.

Donna's present was a pair French knickers from "Eve's Temptations" in lustrous white with white lace trim and with sides that were a kind of see-through, gauzy white, just like the pair I'd been made to buy Esther.

"Now Carla, you must sit down and send them an email thanking them for their generous presents, right away."

"Yes ma'am," I agreed, not wanting to incur Ruth's wrath and maybe make her refuse to give me my main present.

At 5pm., when I was almost going crazy with expectation -- my dick was straining inside its cage -- Ruth went upstairs to shower and change and told me I must follow her and shower after her, she'd give me the key to unlock my device then. The big moment was near. Ruth had asked me what I'd like her to wear when we made love and I requested her to wear her waist-pinching half-cup black Basque with black seamed stockings and a small black G-string that I knew she had. I know all this black stocking stuff wasn't that original, but so what? My dick sure as hell liked it.

When I emerged naked and uncaged from the shower, the sight of her lying stretched out on the bed, dressed as I'd requested with one leg bent and leaning slightly away from the other, showing the little silky patch of material covering her black bush, nearly made me faint.

"Come to ma'am Carla and ask her permission for you to fuck her."

"Please ma'am, may I fuck you?" I almost choked on the words, so excited was I.

"You may fuck ma'am Carla, there's a good girl."