Made to Obey Ch. 11

Reprise: I'd been caught wearing my Sister-in-law's underwear and jerking off to shemale porn by wife (Ruth), Sister-in-law (Esther) and their mother (Donna). I'd been forced into a chastity cage and made to wear panties all the time. Humiliation was now a frequent event. Esther, who had investigated my internet usage on my laptop to see if I'd visited shemale porn (or similar sites) before, had found no evidence of that. Yet she did want to know about "Bowser" and a curious email I'd sent to him some years back. Donna was looking in to my finances prior to my marrying Ruth.

Bloody hell! I mean bloody, fucking hell. How unfair can life be?

This should have been an end to it; Esther had been unable to find any previous interest in shemales / transvestism on either my phone or laptop, so that should have been that. It was bad enough that she'd taken so long to clear me but now that she'd confirmed I'd been telling the truth I should have been left in peace to live my life with Ruth, albeit as the submissive partner. I'd accepted the humiliation heaped on me as punishment for my dressing up in Esther's underwear - the chastity cage, the panties, the humiliation at the Doctor's, Penny and Geri etc. I'd suffered more than enough, yet, because of that one Gmail that I should have deleted years ago that said "are you sure this is legal?", I now had to worry over whether a whole different aspect of my past life would be exposed. A past that, had I never tried on Esther's underwear in the first place, would have remained forever forgotten, where it belonged.

When Donna asked the first question, I was still mildly confident that the full details of my venture with Bowser would remain secret; I was going to heed his advice and say as little as possible.

"So, Carla, you say you won £10,000 on a day at York races in May. Do you still stand by that? That you backed a 9/1 winner with a thousand pounds?"

I nodded, "well Miss Donna, as far as I can remember, yes. I mean, it was a long time ago and I was more than a little drunk."

"Well Carla, I've managed to find records, a form book for that year and, guess what?"

I shrugged my shoulders; she'd have to tell me.

"There were no winners at 9/1 on any of the three days at York that year, or even at prices thereabouts. How do you account for that?"

"Like I said Miss Donna, I was drunk, maybe I placed the bet at York but the race I won the money on was from another racetrack. I really can't be sure; it was a while ago."

Okay, so this wasn't too convincing, but, I figured, Donna couldn't disprove it. The frown on her face suggested she knew that too.

"Well, if you ask me Carla, this plus all the other payments and withdrawals at that time smell like a case of money laundering to me," was her only response.

"I was newly divorced then Miss Donna, I was doing lots of cash-in-hand work, I'm not surprised it didn't look -- how can I put it? -- orthodox."

"Look Carla," Esther took over now. "You're only going to make things worse for yourself if you don't own up to anything incriminating now. Tell me now, let's not waste any more time."

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be owning up to Miss Esther, other than maybe underpaying a bit of tax."

The women looked at each other, annoyed at my stubborn refusal to own up to something. Esther then started to tap away on her laptop until finding whatever she was looking for.

"Okay Carla, you've had your chance to own up. When I last talked about this to you, I'd looked into all the emails in your 3 Gmail accounts. Since then, I've looked into all the folders in them and there, in your personal Gmail account, is one you've created labelled 'misc.', when I opened that, there was a list of the passwords for your various online accounts, bank, credit cards, subscriptions etc. And guess what?"

I shuffled a little in my seat, a strap from my suspender-belt had twisted slightly and was pressing into my thigh, adding to my discomfort.

"I just made that to refer to in case I ever forgot a password Miss Esther, surely that's permissible?" I countered.

"Oh yes, very sensible. And I can see you're quite logical in your choice of passwords -- always using the names of one of 5 moons in the solar system, followed by 4 numbers which I discovered were the years of their discovery. So, for instance, your personal bank account password is Ganymede1610. But also, in your list in this folder is "kazoombla.co.uk", not only had you entered what your password was but also your login id. Guess what I found?"

It felt like I'd just been kicked in the stomach. Damn, why hadn't I remembered to delete this from my password list after my Bowser business was done? Even so, I knew I'd deleted all my inbox from it, I just couldn't be sure I'd deleted my "sent" emails to Bowser.

Esther gave me a smile. She knew she'd rattled me.

"Want to come clean now Carla?" she asked with a smirk.

There was still a chance of course that there was nothing incriminating whatsoever on there; that I'd deleted everything from both the inbox and "sent" box. too. If that was so, it would be madness for me to admit anything now; Esther might just be bluffing -- I hoped.

"Sorry Miss Esther. It was all such a long time ago; can't remember the last time I used 'kazoombla' or even why I bothered with it."

Donna was now stretching over to look at Esther's laptop. Esther turned it a little towards her to facilitate her reading what was on the screen.

Esther started reading from her screen. "Hi Bowser. Here's my first mock agent's ad. Hope it's okay by you. If so, I'll bring it to the club on Sunday. Let me know of any changes you'd like. Cheers Carl."

Esther now stared at me, "so, when I open up the attachment sent to this Bowser, it's a mock letter from a fictional estate agent valuing a property at Tiptree Lane at £120,000 and adding that the property is in need of a substantial amount of work. Then, a week or so later, there's another mail sent to Bowser, with an attachment from another fictional estate agent valuing the Tiptree Lane house at £125,00, again with warnings about the state of the house. Anything to say Carla?"

I shook my head but remained silent.

Esther continued, "and then, guess what? There's an email sent to Bowser with an attachment from a builder F. Lynch and Sons. Now Lynch and Sons is a kosher business. This attachment is an invoice from them surveying and estimating the cost of the work needed on the Tiptree Lane house. Guess what? It needs one hell of a lot spending on it plus specialist Japanese Knotweed removal treatment. The thing is, this invoice from Lynch and Sons is addressed to the Executors of Mrs Enid Mercer at 17, Stockwood Avenue. That's where you used to live after your divorce, isn't that so Carla?"

I nodded, there was no point in denying it; Ruth could have confirmed it.

"Both the supposed estate agent letters were also addressed similarly. I went around to Lynch and Sons yesterday. They still kept all their invoices from that year and they hunted out the invoice number on your attachment. It was for a little job you'd asked them to quote for somewhere else. So, it looks like you typed out a false report on Tiptree Lane and overlaid it onto their headed-paper invoice, photocopied it and then passed it on to this Bowser -- presumably the real executor of Enid Mercer's estate. I guess Bowser then passed all this stuff on to whoever was going to inherit Mrs Mercer's house, kidding them it was only worth £125k..."

Donna interrupted here. "And then, lo and behold, a little later, Carla bids £130,000 and gets the property for a knockdown price. He then sells it for the full value and splits the profit with the dodgy executor -- a solicitor I presume - Bowser. Yes, look here Esther, on Carla's bank statements, you can see the money moving in and out in amounts that tally."

"All that's left now Carla..." Esther said, "is for you to tell us who Bowser is." She and Donna looked at me intently, awaiting my response.

"Look, Miss Esther, Miss Donna, I gave my word, promised, to keep his identity a secret. Yes, it was a scam, but look, no one lost, honestly. The guy who inherited Mrs Mercer's estate lived in New Zealand and probably died before he'd have had a chance to spend £50k, let alone the £130k he did get. I was desperate to get enough money to restart my business after my divorce and Bowser, well, he had his own reasons. Honestly, it was the only time we did this and, like I said, no one really lost anything; no one suffered because of it."

"But it was dishonest; illegal. Wasn't it?" Esther started. "You do know this is a criminal offence. You'll both get prison sentences for this, and how do you think a pantie-wearing sissy like you will fare behind bars?"

I was on the verge of tears, how had my life unravelled so much in just a few short months?

"So," Donna demanded, "are you going to tell us who Bowser is or do you intend taking all the rap for this fraud? We'll find out who he is anyway -- or if we don't, the police will."

"You wouldn't go to the police with this would you?" I asked in horror, forgetting to add 'Miss Esther'.

"Well Carla, we ought to, but I guess we should wait until Ruth gets back and discuss it with her. You do realise our family's connection with a fraudster like you could jeopardise our new project? You haven't given us any reason to go easy on you though have you? It might help if you told us who Bowser is."

Sniffling and pulling a little frilly lace handkerchief out of a pocket to wipe a tear from my eyes, I once again said that I couldn't divulge Bowser's identity. My loyalty in keeping my word to a trusted friend was not well received.

I went to bed early that evening and tried to make sense of events and how likely it was that the police would be informed of my fraudulent past. My hope was that the Gifford women would want to avoid any bad press or family association with a fraudster in view of the objections in some quarters to Max's and our big project. As I removed my make-up and changed into my nightie (making a mental note to buy some more cotton wool balls), I accepted that I was now even more under the power of Ruth and her sister and mother; not that I had much independence to lose anyhow.

The next day, after showering, I changed into the nice short-sleeved pink dress with large white buttons down the front that Ruth had instructed me to wear; it had a rather 1960's look I thought. White stockings and suspender belt plus small white skimpy knickers completed my attire plus pink open-toed house-shoes with the pom-poms and pink choker and anklet with bells completed my outfit.

I took care in applying my make up as I did not want to incur any more unfavourable reactions if I could possibly help it. I took pictures of my made-up face and a full length one and WhatsApp'd them to Ruth and then went downstairs earlier than usual to make Miss Donna and Miss Esther's breakfasts. They'd stayed up late last night, presumably talking about what action to take now that they knew of my fraudulent past. Whatever decision they came to, I was determined that I would at least retain some small vestige of honour and not tell them Bowser's identity, even though I knew deep-down that they would uncover it.

When the two women came down for breakfast, I duly waited upon them wearing the white, frilly pinafore that I'd tied with a large bow at the back. I'd forgotten to put this on yesterday but I guess the episode with the delivery man had rather confused me. Very few words were exchanged to me although I was told that I had no need to cook anything else for them that day as they were going to the local pub for their main meal. This was a relief as I had lots of ironing to do as well as making the beds and such like and, knowing no-one else was in the house made the jingling bells I was wearing less annoying.

Whilst going about my duties, I decided that, if given an opportunity the next day, I must get to see Bowser and update him -- and apologise for not deleting everything from my email accounts that related to the fraud we perpetrated on Enid Mercer.

To my surprise, neither Miss Donna or Miss Esther minded my going into the office the next morning. I'd removed my make-up and nail varnish the previous evening and was again dressed as the handsome man I knew I really was, albeit wearing a pair of scarlet, silk briefs.

Miss Penny spoke to me with her usual disdain but remembered to call me Carl in front of Marsha. I didn't dare use a phone or computer to contact Bowser, fearing my usage of such items was being secretly tracked. I was trying to think of a reason I could give to Miss Penny as to why I needed to leave the office when she came to see me, shutting the door behind her.

"Can you nip into town Carla and buy some more of these please, for our office ladies' toilet. Marsha forgot to order them last week." She threw an empty 72-pack of tampons on my desk.

"Yes Miss Penny, I'll go now if that's alright."

I'd buy the tampons later, after I'd called in on Bowser. I just hoped he wasn't on holiday and was available to see me.

Joyce, Bowser's secretary, ushered me into his office; my luck, such that it was, was in.

Bowser clearly understood that my appearance so soon after my recent visit meant trouble, but his calm, affable manner suggested he was not unduly alarmed.

"So, the matter's not closed then?" h started.

I apologised and explained about Esther uncovering my old emails and the attachments and how Donna had disproved my account of winning money at the races. I did though assert that, in spite of pressure, I'd not given Bowser's identity away.

Bowser scratched his chin and, after Joyce had brought us both in tea and biscuits, started to ask me lots of questions about Esther and Donna; what work they did, how involved they were financially in Max's new project. I answered in full although why he needed to know such details was beyond me.

"Look Carl, I doubt they'll tell the police. Why? Because they won't want to be associated with a fraudster, not when you've all just won approval for this controversial scheme. I'm sure they'll want to extract some sort of punishment from you -- certainly. From me? We'll see. Thanks anyway for not giving away my name, but, like you say, they'll find out in due course. When they do, doubtless they'll give me a visit. Don't worry though, I'll handle it. My old cricket coach used to say that aggressive bowlers succeeded when they intimidated the batsman and that the best way to play them was with similar aggression. Leave it with me old chap."

I wasn't totally convinced that Bowser's approach had any merit, but at least he seemed to have a strategy whereas me? I just gave in to the Gifford women. I left Bowser's office, bought the tampons and returned to work, dreading going home and meeting Ruth again who no doubt, would have been fully acquainted with my business with Bowser.

Needless to say, I was not exactly flavour of the month when I got home that afternoon after Esther and Donna had told her all about my previously fraudulent life. In fairness to her, she didn't go into histrionics, arm-waving and shouting, adopting instead the tone of a parent admonishing a naughty child.

Obviously, my having sex with her any time soon was ruled out, but judging from what I heard of her conversations with the other women, her main concern seemed to be ensuring the Gifford project wasn't put at risk by my being exposed as a fraudster. Maybe Bowser was right that this could be the thing that saved me from the law and a prison sentence; even so, I knew Ruth and the other two would want to make sure I paid somehow for my previous dishonesty. As for Bowser? Well, I guessed they'd simply want money off him. Considering he had so much to lose (his job, his good name and so on), I reckoned he'd pay up.

Sure enough, just over a week later, I was taken by Ruth and with Donna to the offices of Carluke, Chisnall and Reed where a meeting with Henry Rupert Hutchinson a.k.a. Bowser had been arranged.

After confirming that, yes, he had been the executor of Enid Mercer's estate, he simply denied being "Bowser" and, when Donna threatened to inform the Law Society and the other partners in his firm of his malfeasance, simply dared them to go ahead; report him! I stared open-mouthed at him when he said this.

"Go ahead. But it will harm you too if you did. Just think of the headlines 'Controversial property development scheme given go-ahead to firm with director involved in fraud case.' I wonder how the council and planning department would view that? Or maybe 'Police drop charges against villain as expert witness found to be part of business involving fraudster'. Would your daughter -- Esther I believe -- thank you for that?'

Donna was aware of that; she didn't want his (and therefore my) fraud exposed, she wanted something though from the knowledge of our wrongdoing; she (and Ruth) wanted Bowser to pay.

"Quite so Mr. Hutchinson, however, you must have profited by well over £120,000 from your little scheme. We could inform your wife about it. Would she approve? Would your children? She might not inform the authorities, but I doubt she'd be happy about it."

"But, Mrs Gifford, even if what you say is true, even if I was this "Bowser" fellow -- which I don't admit, you're risking the Gifford reputation too. If you were to tell my wife and she believed I was this "Bowser", there's every chance she just might call the fraud squad. And that would put the Gifford family in the frame too. Do you want to take that risk?"

Ruth decided to step in here. "We perfectly understand the possible scenarios Mr Hutchinson. That's why we've decided to make a suggestion as to an acceptable compromise."

"Go on," Bowser nodded.

"Well, it's only fair that you pay for your sins, Carl is going to; you can't just steal that sort of money and expect to go unpunished. Since you made over £100k, we suggest you pay us back that money, and we'll give it to a charity. We don't want to profit from your cheating, we'd just like to administer a kind of justice."

Bowser scratched his chin again; I remembered him saying about meeting aggression with aggression and wondered how he'd react to Ruth's demand. I didn't have long to wait to find out.

"Mrs. Henley-Gifford; Mrs Gifford. Regarding your suggestion, excuse my bluntness but..." he paused. "Fuck right off. Got it? I won't pay you a penny, is that clear?"

Ruth and Donna seemed taken aback by Bowser's reply, but before they could respond, Bowser spoke again.

"However, ladies, in the spirit of co-operation between businesses, I might be able to arrange a few advantageous deals for your new venture."

"Such as?" Donna enquired.

"Well, as a partner in Carluke, Chisnall and Reed, I'm sure I could persuade the other partners to handle all the legal side of your new venture -- that's if you're not already tied in with another firm -- for a knockdown price. I'd tell them it would be a kind of 'loss-leader' and that we'd get lots more business from you in years to come, which I'm sure we would."

Donna shook her head as though unhappy with Bowser's suggestion.

"It'd have to be a something special. No charges whatsoever to our business for, say, the first six years, plus an offer to handle the conveyancing for all our residential clients free of charge," was her response.

"How about, no charges to Gifford for six years and free conveyancing for the first 20 purchasers of residential property at your development?" countered Bowser.

Ruth and Donna looked at one another before Donna answered.

"Very well Mr Hutchinson. Get that confirmed in writing within the next 28 days, and we might be able to conclude all this."