Made to Obey Ch. 12

Sure, I could leave Ruth and remain as Carla, but what about the sex? I still worshipped Ruth; still wanted her to be the source of my sexual desires and release. My love for her hadn't altered and she was still prepared to have sex with me; with Carla. In a way, I dreaded the day when I'd have to make that decision and commit either to a sissy life with Ruth or to leave her and return to being Carl or remain as Carla, but a lonely Carla.

On my first day at Carluke, Chisnall and Reed, I was as nervous as any infant on their first day at school. Ruth had supervised my dressing that morning, "nothing too tarty - not on your first day" she insisted. Not that I would have dressed tartily, I wanted to blend in to the background and not draw attention to myself.

I wore a white, silk blouse with a bow at the neck and a smart navy-blue suit, the hem of my skirt being just an inch or two above the knee.

Ruth had allowed me to wear tights for the day, and my black tights sat over a modest pair of white panties with a small navy-blue bow. The thicker material of the blouse, together with my white bra managed to keep my strong, pert nipples from being too obvious. Ruth insisted though that I wore high-heel shoes as she reckoned my gorgeous legs would be wasted in flatter ones.

Nervously I waited in reception for Bowser to come and collect me. The receptionist had been pleasant and chatty and showed no signs of curiosity at my appearance or voice. I was dreading Bowser seeing me like this; the shame. Yet he knew I'd been blackmailed into it because of the fraud and didn't know about my previous cross-dressing humiliations; that was something I suppose.

His look on first seeing me was one of utter astonishment and, as we walked to his office, he kept giving me long stares and smiling, as though he couldn't take-in what he was seeing.

We sat down in his office and he closed the door behind us.

"Look, Carl old-chap., I'm just so sorry it has come to this. It must be a nightmare for you, having to, you know, submit to all this..."

"Dressing up? Yes Bowser, it is. But I had no choice. At least you've been spared this humiliation, in fact Henry, it seems you've been spared any punishment at all. It doesn't seem fair does it?"

"No, I know old chap, I know, but what can I do about it? Nothing. You're in the Gifford's trap and I'm just being used by them in a different kind of way. Don't worry though Carl, I'll make things as easy as I can for you here, show you the ropes and see that you're bedded-in slowly. No one else here knows, you know, about you being a man I assure you; you can rest easy on that score."

"That's good to hear Bowser, and you've got to swear that's how it'll stay. You're not to mention it to anyone, not a whisper, not a word. Understand?"

"Oh, absolutely Carl, absolutely; scouts-honour. Can I just say though that you do look totally convincing, you should have no trouble with people suspecting anything, well, odd about you. In fact, you may end up having to fight off some of the more hot-blooded shall I say, members of the staff. Er, just one thing though."

"What's that Bowser?"

"Just don't call me Bowser in front of people okay. It's Mr Hutchinson."

Bowser was true to his word in that he gave me a gentle introduction to the work I had to perform and tolerated the few errors I made in those early weeks. He gradually introduced me to the other staff at the firm and it was clear he was a well-liked partner. In due course I bedded-in to my new job and began to make friend with others, telling those that asked that I was married to another woman; this raised few eyebrows.

As Bowser had hinted, some of the male staff had made a few attempts at flirting with me and as my confidence grew, I suppose I didn't help matters by wearing shorter skirts. Ruth nearly always checked over my attire and liked me to wear stockings and suspenders and high-heels which I did of course. I knew that on some days my nipples could clearly be seen pushing up against my blouses and that sometimes, perhaps when I'd had to bend down to pick something up, or stretch up to reach a file, that the top of my stockings might just have been visible to those men who kept a look out for such moments.

Some days I'd go out for a drink at lunch-time with some of the other secretaries and I soon became familiar with their likes and dislikes and with details of their husbands and boyfriends. Like I've said, they had no problem with knowing I was in a relationship with a woman, in fact this seemed to encourage them to talk more openly about their sex lives than might otherwise have been the case.

The "girls" also gave me their opinions about the solicitors they worked with, who had short tempers, who was friendly, who was having affairs; the usual gossip. They made a point though of warning me about a senior partner - a Mr Jenks - who although a married family man in his late fifties, often tried to grope attractive women. None of the girls I mixed with had any time for him.

Some months later into my job, when I was both confident and competent in my work, Bowser went on holiday for a fortnight and I was asked to go and work with another solicitor - Pamela Hastings. I'd met Pamela a few times in the staff kitchen and had some friendly conversations with her, so was not put out by this.

She was about 29 I'd say, tall, as tall as me when we both wore our heels, she had long, straight, shoulder-length blonde hair. She was slim, some might say a willowy figure and a bust that was probably only slightly larger than mine. She dealt with clients who wanted to sue neighbours or businesses for one reason or another, a kind of problem-resolution role. Quite well thought of from all accounts by the partners in the firm, she did though look to be rather harried and always seemed under pressure.

To begin with, our conversations naturally centred on work matters, but gradually, as we got to know one another better, she opened up a little about other things.

Apart from the pressure of work, she was getting really pissed-off with her partner (Keith), a business consultant. Even if he arrived home from work before her, he would never make the tea or even help prepare it. Generally, when it came to sharing the burden of housework, he was lazy and expected her to do it all.

I agreed it was wrong and generally gave her a friendly hearing, offering advice when I felt I could. I asked her why she stayed with him if he was so inconsiderate and she seemed at a loss to give a credible answer until eventually coming out with "well, I like a bit of dick and he's very responsive in bed." I blushed a little and Pamela too seemed to have thought perhaps she'd said too much. Maybe she thought because I was a lesbian that talk of dick was off-limits.

I gathered my composure and told her that Keith wasn't the only person with a dick and that there would be plenty of other men with dicks who'd jump at the chance to have a relationship with a successful and pretty woman like her. She smiled and thanked me for my advice and kind words.

On Bowser's return, I said how much I'd enjoyed working with Pam and he asked if I'd like to become her secretary rather than his, so that I didn't have to face the embarrassment of working with the only man there who knew I was a man too. This made sense and I agreed. A week later I became Pamela's secretary.

It didn't take long to fit in with Pam's work schedule and requirements and she seemed more than happy to have secured my services. When not bogged down with work, we often discussed personal matters, mainly her continuing fraught relationship with her lazy partner. I would gently suggest that she should split with him and that she was too nice for a man who treated her like a domestic. She would laugh and say that, yes, I was probably right but...

One day, when again discussing her life with Keith, she began to ask me about my private life and about my partner. I showed her a picture of Ruth and she said how lovely she was and that she naively thought that lesbian couples generally had one of a more masculine look and build, yet we were both very pretty.

I blushed, pleased that she thought me pretty, but didn't comment on her masculine-lesbian theory. In a way, I hoped that her being able to talk to me about her private life helped her in some small way to cope with things. In fact, I quite enjoyed being privy to her innermost details, it meant that she'd totally bought into my being a woman and one married to another woman at that. In time, there was hardly a thing she wouldn't confide in me from when she was having her periods to how big Keith's dick was. (If I was Keith, I'd have been quite annoyed at this being discussed by her.)

On the domestic front, only one thing happened that made life different but it was to have a major effect on events. I was still being made to jerk-off on a Friday to that DVD and, every so often, failing to get a second hard-on after Ruth had allowed me to have sex with her. This new event was that her friend from the States, Maggy, was coming to visit and that they were going to have a 10-day break in Edinburgh together. Maggy was going to stay with us for a couple of nights before they went on their holiday, this Ruth informed me, would allow her American friend to see how an errant husband could be made to "come to heel".

I was warned to be on my best behaviour, any slip-ups would result in my being denied sexual release for quite some weeks and possibly a hint being dropped to my brother that, perhaps, I was not the brother he thought I was. I complied.

Maggy came to the house on a Saturday and Ruth had made me dress in maids' uniform - a black dress that stuck out over frilly white petticoats. She'd ordered this via an internet supplier (that advertised in Mrs Johnson's folder) once Maggy's visit was confirmed and deducted the cost from my "fraud" savings! I was also told to curtsey when meeting her and to call her Miss Maggy.

I endured this humiliation with my usual fortitude, obeying Miss Maggy's order for me to lift my dress up and show her my caged dick. How she laughed, and then she got her phone out and showed me and Ruth a picture of her husband wearing a pair of frilly panties too! She'd put them on him when he was in a drunken stupor and was now intending to lead him down the path Ruth had led me.

Before she left though, I had to endure a further humiliation, one that I realised Ruth had been determined to engineer. After serving them both tea and curtseying to leave, Ruth called me back, saying that I hadn't curtseyed properly and that the seams on one of my stockings was not straight.

Although I apologised, and hastily tried to realign the seamed stocking before curtseying again, Ruth said that I'd let her down and needed to be punished. Maggy watched all this with silent delight, a gleam in her eyes.

"You must punish her Maggy," Ruth advised. "I think a spanking might remind Carla to maintain standards."

Miss Maggy put her tea down and patted her knees, signalling me to come to her. She instructed me to pull my knickers down and bend over her lap so that she could spank me. As she smacked my cheeks, the bells on my choker tinkled, the ones on my anklet though were muffled by my knickers which were wrapped around them. Yes, I was very embarrassed and although the spanking did hurt a little it was the humiliation which was the stronger sensation.

When Miss Maggy had finished spanking my bottom, Ruth told me to thank her for punishing me and leave. I hastily pulled my knickers up and thanked Miss Maggy for disciplining me and then gave a generous curtsey and left the room. The odd thing was though - and I hoped the two women hadn't noticed - my dick was getting hard, struggling and pushing against the cage. I silently prayed that I hadn't left any signs of my arousal on Miss Maggy's skirt.

I returned to the kitchen to do some washing-up but could hear Ruth and Miss Maggy laughing about this episode and generally saying what a sad creature I was. Miss Maggy said her husband was probably of a similar nature and that she'd bring him over to the UK next year for a surprise "course" with Mrs Johnson. "Have dick, will grovel," I heard Ruth joke. They later went out together for lunch, leaving me alone for a few hours, and it was during this time that I think I first began to realise just what I'd allowed to happen to me.

Ruth, I figured, didn't love me - not like I loved her. No, what she loved was power over me, the domination of me. I felt as though, finally, some sort of mental veil was falling away from me and I could at last see what sort of person Ruth really was. It hurt to admit to myself that I wasn't loved - at least not as I wanted to be loved. I was just a kind of prize to show off to her mother and sister and to Miss Maggy, I was the proof she wanted that she could totally control a man. That evening I decided enough was enough and that when I'd raised the money to pay for my past fraud, I'd leave her; divorce her.

Ruth and Miss Maggy were leaving for their Edinburgh holiday on the Monday, leaving me on my own for a whole 10 days. (By now, we'd cancelled the supermarket delivery, I did the shopping in person on Friday afternoons.) This meant of course that I wouldn't be unlocked for my Friday evening wank. Ruth was now confident that I was settled in my female routine and had accepted my lot; she didn't ask me to send her pictures of me in my make-up or underwear. I was just told to keep on top of the cleaning and the housework. "Of course, ma'am," I replied. "Have a lovely holiday ma'am; Miss Maggy" I said, before curtseying and leaving for the office.

After the usual initial Monday morning hubbub at work, I quietly went to my desk to start typing when Pamela appeared, excited, bubbly, and happy., in contrast to my rather downbeat demeanour.

"I've finally kicked him out Carla. I've taken your advice and stood up for myself for once. Chucked all his clothes out into the front garden plus some of his other belongings - shaver and suchlike. Then after a big shouty row in front of our neighbours, he picked his stuff up and went back to his parents. He called me a few rude names but it's over and I feel, well, kind of reborn."

I smiled and congratulated her, reassuring her that she'd done the right thing and mustn't ever contemplate taking him back. She assured me that she wouldn't, no way.

For the rest of the day she was like a child reborn, as though a huge burden had been lifted from her. I was genuinely pleased for her, delighted in fact. But she'd sensed I wasn't my usual self, that something was getting to me.

"Look, Carla, I'm sorry if I've been so full of myself today, in fact it always seems to be me telling you about my problems; my issues, never the other way around. Look, I know you don't work on Friday, but some of the staff here usually go for an end of week drink at the King's Head after work, why don't you come and join us? We'd love to see you there - that's if your partner doesn't mind."

I would usually have automatically replied no to Pam's invitation, not least because one or two of the younger male solicitors had made subtle passes at me and I didn't want to be embarrassed, and also because Friday evening was my jerk-off time and I didn't want to miss that. That didn't apply though this particular Friday as Ruth was away with Miss Maggy, so I surprised myself by telling Pam that I'd join her there.

She gave me a beaming smile and said she'd look forward to having a cosy chat with me then.

Wearing seamed stockings was something I didn't always do when going to work, having long, gorgeous legs to die for was enough to have many of the men there buzzing around me like wasps around a jam jar, such hosiery seemed to give some of them a fit of the vapours. Similarly, despite only having "A" cup breasts, this didn't seem to stop many a furtive glance at them. Perhaps it was my rather prominent nipples that proved so attractive, I certainly adored them. But, being a man, I knew how distracting such things could be so I usually wore un-seamed stockings and bras and blouses that made a better job of keeping my nipples under at least token restraint. My panties for work were also more functional than decorative.

This seemed to be a policy that would stand me in good stead when, on the Tuesday at work, Pamela had to attend an urgent meeting with a client in Leeds and I was asked to stand in for Joan, the secretary /PA to the notorious "dirty old man", senior partner Mr. Jenks. Joan had called in sick and, although I was willing to help out and felt confident I could bat away any advances Jenks made, had I been wearing sexier clothes, it might have been more of a problem.

Sure enough, after an hour or so, Jenks started asking me personal questions including if it was true that I had a same-sex partner. When I confirmed this, he expressed surprise that such an attractive woman as me couldn't find a man. He touched me on the shoulder a couple of times and made me stretch up to retrieve documents from the top of a filing cabinet, which I did, knowing full well he was trying to catch a glimpse up my skirt. Overall though, even though I felt on-edge in his presence, I never felt too threatened, indeed one or two of the other girls in the office laughed about his lecherous ways when on our lunch breaks, they reckoned he was sure to make a pass at me before long.

Before I left for home that evening, I received an e-mail from Pam saying she'd be away from the office the next two days too and, as Joan would still be off sick, I'd have to suffer Jenks's creepy presence these days as well. That night, remembering how I'd now realised I'd have to divorce Ruth when the time came and stand up for myself, I decided to use whatever weaponry I had as Carla to avoid being taken advantage of by yet another person, Jenks. I decide I would put him in his place. The dormant man in me was awoken; the fightback was about to begin.

The next morning, mildly excited at the scheme that was developing in my mind, I washed, put my make-up on and then stretched the sexiest black-seamed stockings I owned on, together with a cute black suspender-belt with two straps to each leg. My bra was a flimsy, light-blue one that my proud nipples had no trouble standing out in and I rooted out a pair of panties I'd only wore once before, the leopard-skin print cotton briefs I'd been made to wear at Auntie Geraldine's; my whore's drawers.

They looked so much sexier on me now over my much more rounded bottom. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror, stretching and turning, admiring what a gorgeous creature I must appear to any hot-blooded male, the panties now well trapped between my buttock crease. I could have been a model.

As I'd now lost a little weight, I decided to try on one of Ruth's blouses, a delicate lilac shade that was very nearly see-through, and a business suit of light-grey, the reason for this was that the skirt was quite short and, if it fitted me, would have old Jenks foaming at the mouth if it rode up just a little or if I crossed my legs in front of him. Thankfully, it just about fitted. This outfit together with black, 4-inch high-heel shoes would surely make any man's blood pressure rise! (I'd wear flat shoes to drive in of course and put the high-heels on once at work.)

It was an overcast, drizzly day as I went to work, this allowed me to wear my raincoat over my skimpy outfit which I kept on as I entered the workplace and went to my desk in Jenks's office, where I removed it. My heart was pounding now in nervous anticipation at my beginning to stand up for myself, to fight back against always being the submissive one. I just hoped that the dirty old-man I'd targeted took the bait.