Sarah & Melissa, Ch. 03

Sarah & Melissa

[***Sarah & Melissa is a depraved tale of forced feminization, chastity and bondage with heaps of hot lesbian femdom sex!

If you haven't read chapter one, go back and start there.***]

Chapter Three - A Change of Guards

Jamie's second week in chastity was not anything like the first.

He had found the prospect of one week terrifying enough. It was at the time the longest he had ever spent in the cage, and by the end he was almost incapable of thinking about anything else. When Sarah had first shown him the device he'd asked her what it was. For some reason he'd assumed it was a kitchen utensil; some sort of weird juicer, part of a new health trend she'd seen online. She had shown him how it worked, fitting the ring around his testicles and working the casing onto his shaft, but it wasn't until she had produced the padlock that he'd begun to understand what it did.

"It stops erections. The plastic prevents you from growing, and the lock prevents you from taking it off."

"Why?" He'd asked, like a child.

"Because you belong to me." She had told him. "I own you, and I want you to remember that. Your cock controls you, and now I control your cock." She dangled the key in front of him as she'd slid it onto a thin chain and fastened it around her neck.

"But... what if I need to pee?" was all he could think to say as he'd watched the key disappear behind the buttons of her work blouse.

"That's what the slits are for dummy." She'd sipped her coffee and eyed him cooly, waiting to see how he'd react.

He'd reacted by reaching down and tugging at the device like a monkey, feeling the weight of it. "I- I don't know, Sarah. This seems... weird."

"It's something I'd like to try, I think it'll be good for us." She'd leaned over and kissed him, pushing her tongue into his mouth and filling him with lust for her. The reaction had been almost instant. Hormones had flooded his body, but instead of the familiar answering surge of power, his cock had responded with a dull throb, giving way quickly to a painful ache.

"Fuck! Sarah, stop."

But she hadn't stopped. Running her hands through his hair and pushing him down to the floor she had mounted him, her work skirt riding up around her tights as she ground her crotch into the unbearable fire and penetrated him deeply with her tongue.

Then, just as he had begun to cry out, she had got up and left for work, saying only, "Be good", as she'd slipped into her heels and coat and out the front door.

That first sentence had been three months ago and a single work day long.

Three months and one day. He thought, as the feather duster snaked its way along the mantelpiece. They both felt so long, and seem so short now. Jamie caught sight of himself in the large polished mirror that hung along the wall and for a second felt the familiar jolt of frustration as his brain momentarily mistook his own reflection for that of an attractive young woman.

Sarah had been investing a lot of time in teaching him makeup tips over the last few weeks, and he even had his own set of basic brushes and powders now, but tonight was too important so this morning she had made him up herself.

"I want you to look perfect tonight. I want the house cleaned, the laundry doing, and you on your knees when I get home at 6pm sharp."

It was 5:15pm currently, and in spite of the instinct telling him to throw down the duster and run out the front door, he found himself trotting around as fast as he could to make sure all his tasks were completed on time. Run out the door. He thought with a bitter irony. I can barely walk up the stairs.

The chain between his ankles tensed as he turned away from his reflection and for a second he tottered alarmingly in the heels before regaining his composure. Straight and slow. He reminded himself. That's the only way to stay upright. Both chain and heels were padlocked on, and Jamie felt more secured than a safety deposit box as he jingled towards the kitchen to remove the final load of laundry from the dryer, the garters of his belt tugging at a pair of black stockings as he walked. Every step was laden with demonstrations of her control.

He was dressed in a short french maid's outfit, one of Sarah's old halloween costumes, and the added petticoats rustled with each step, accompanied by the rhythmic click of his heels, the clank of the chain, and the clack of the padlock tapping softly against his plastic cage like an infernal metronome measuring out an endless waltz of indentured frustration. Clink clank clack, clink clank clack...

He remembered with an ache how good she'd looked wearing it at the office halloween party, how her breasts had juddered in the bodice as he'd taken her against the sofa later that night, her thighs gripping him, pulling him into her as he'd ploughed- Ouch! The cage impassively reminded him of his duties.

The ruffle-trimmed apron bunched up around his skirts as he knelt to unload the dryer, and Jamie instinctively smoothed it out before opening the barrel. What is wrong with me? He stared down at the frilly lace cuffs bowed around his wrists and wondered why he hadn't at least thought to take them off whilst alone. I'd only have to put them back on, and I might struggle with the knots. He couldn't risk it, not tonight. After two weeks in chastity Friday had finally come around and Jamie wanted Sarah to be in a good mood when she got back. She had promised, or at least she had heavily implied, that tonight his ordeal would end.

"If I have to wait a week for something, doesn't it make perfect sense that you should have to wait two weeks?"

That's what she'd said, and soon Melissa would come. Then so would Sarah, and then, he assumed, so would he.

By 5:35pm the laundry was put away, and by 5:45pm Jamie had finished double-checking everything was absolutely perfect. He went to the front door and paused. What now? He still had 15 minutes before Sarah was due back, but there was nothing left to do. He could sit down and watch TV for a bit, but what if he missed her coming in? This is ridiculous, I don't need to kneel here all that time. It was a small act of rebellion, but Jamie felt like he was fomenting the start of a revolution as he settled himself on the sofa with a book. After 5 minutes he realised it was hopeless. He tried to focus on the words, but they kept spilling into each other as his mind invariably drifted back to the thought of his cock trapped beneath the pages, the petticoats, the plastic.

I just want to cum. He thought as he threw the book across the room. God I just need to cum. He moaned, as he fetched the book and carefully replaced it on the bookcase. Defeated, he settled himself in front of the door, smoothed out his pleats, and glanced at the clock. 5:55pm. Fine. He thought. I've timed this pretty well.

At 6:30pm Sarah finally burst through the front door, anger strewn across her face.

"Fucking Neil!" was the first thing she had said.

"I... I am kneeling, mistress." He had replied. She looked at him quizzically.

"Yes, good girl." She swept past him and collapsed onto the sofa. She snapped her fingers. "Come here."

He cantered over, and stood before her expectantly as she looked him up and down.

"Kneel."

"Your boss?" He said, keen to rectify his earlier mistake.

"Kneel!" She ordered, pointing to her feet. Fuck. He thought, dropping to his knees. This is going very badly.

"Remove my shoes and rub my feet." Jamie suppressed a small squeak as he commenced what had become a daily routine for them throughout the working week. He slipped his girlfriend's slim feet out of their black Gucci court shoes and began to massage her tender heels through the nylon of her tights. He hated this bit. Jamie had always found the sight of a woman's stockinged foot could do awfully strange things to his mind, and he tried desperately to keep his thoughts elsewhere as she gently moaned and rolled her head back against the plumped cushions of the corner-sofa.

"How was your day, mistress?" He asked, hoping to distract her, and himself, from the noises she was currently making.

"Awful, sissy. I swear to god that fucking guy gets off on making me stay late. He loves to remember some last minute report that only I can do, or some kind of pointless email that simply cannot wait till Monday." She shoved her other foot under his face and he took it in hand, massaging out the knots and breathing in the faint aroma of nylon and sweat which always struck him as so sweet. It smells of her.

"And now I only have an hour and a half instead of two and there's so much I need to do!" She snapped her foot away and sat forwards, grabbing his ear and pulling him bodily across her lap. His face went down into the cushions as she brushed his petticoats clear of his panties.

Smack. The sting on his cheeks made him cry out involuntarily into the cushion.

"It's just so frustrating." Smack. "I could do a better job than him." Smack. "But he's so cocksure and arrogant and- garggh!"

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Jamie wailed as she spanked him, but soon she had spent her frustration, and after a brief moment of silence he crawled off her lap and returned to her feet. She looked calmer. She smiled at him.

"It's so easy for you isn't it, sissy? You just spend all day lounging around at home whilst I'm out earning the money to keep you in nice dresses and smart little uniforms like this. It's been a while since you've had to work for a living, isn't it?"

Jamie didn't know what to say. It had been Sarah who had forced him to quit his job in the city, making the not unfair point that she earned more than enough for both of them, and someone ought to be keeping the house in order. It was true that finance had been a demanding career, but he would not have called his new life 'easy', and at least at work there had been the chance of promotion. His new role seemed only to promise progressive demotion with every passing week.

"6:40. Shit. Right, come on. I need to shower whilst you fix your makeup, and then you're going to help me dress."

Sarah was talented at many things, but her ability to turn around an outfit change under pressure was more like a preternatural gift from god.

When they finally descended the stairs together at 7:55pm she looked like she'd just stepped out the salon. Her cinnamon hair was coiffed in falling curls that bounced lightly around the straps of a little black dress which pushed and accentuated every fulsome curve and gentle line of her perfect form. Her legs were long and sheer in the thin denier of coffee black tights, though the look felt incomplete as she padded towards the kitchen in her stockinged feet. But the part Jamie couldn't stop staring at was the thin necklace and small silver key that dangled between her breasts and against her naked skin for all the world to see.

"You're not going to wear that out?" he had asked pleadingly.

"Who are you to tell me how to dress?"

Jamie had also been allowed a costume change, though his was far more simple. The chain between his ankles had been removed and a frilly white lace headband with black bow had been added to his own thick curls. Other than that he was as he'd been, although Sarah had at least unlocked the black heels that still clung to his feet.

Sarah was pacing, and Jamie could tell she was nervous. He didn't see why. It had been a week since their first date, that terrible night when Sarah had first exposed him, but her and Melissa had been exchanging furtive texts almost every day, and it made Jamie feel sad to remember the look of joy and excitement that rose in Sarah's cheeks whenever her phone pinged; a look that would turn to wickedness or sometimes even scorn whenever she would glance up from her screen and catch Jamie's eye. He longed to know what they had been saying, wanted to feel involved in his girlfriend's joy, had craved her attention desperately, especially during the long nights tossing besides her in dull agony as she had slept soundly in their bed.

At least he would soon be dismissed, he was itching to retreat back upstairs to hide as the two women said their hellos before heading out for the evening. As much as it sent jealous forks of envy into his gut to think of the two of them flirting and drinking whilst he sulked around at home, at least this time he wouldn't be in bondage, he could probably even watch TV, and then she would come home, fired up and horny, ready to unlock him and reaffirm their love.

The shrill wail of the doorbell cut through the air like the cry of a banshee. She's here.

Desperately he looked to Sarah, waiting for a sign that he had her leave to flee. Now. He thought. It's time.

"Aren't you going to get it?" Sarah asked impatiently.

Me?! He thought. "M- me?" he said.

"Yes you! Do I have another maid?"

He started to argue, but she cocked her head and a flash of her emerald eyes ate his willpower alive.

"Get. The. Door."

"Yes mistress."

Their house had a modern open-plan design; the kitchen connected to the living room via a semi-circular archway, the stairs descending down one side of the adjoining wall to end near a door that led into a small vestibule area containing a coat rack, a shoe tree, and the front door. As Jamie scurried towards it now, he wished they lived somewhere with more places to hide.

With his fingers on the latch he paused. Once I open this there'll be no going back. He thought. I could just never open it. Never let her in. But then she would ring again, and he knew a second ring would be a death knell for his hopes of release.

Her finger was on the bell as Jamie swung the door open wide and let the cool evening air blow across his legs and up between the ruffles of his too-short petticoats.

She raised an eyebrow. "That was close."

The last time he had seen Melissa it had been through tears of anger and blinkers of lace as she had left him bound spreadeagled with her panties pulled across his beet-red face the morning after she had spent the night pleasuring his girlfriend in their bed. The memory flashed through him as he looked at her now, immaculately painted in pale white and blood red that matched her crimson hair. A black choker framed her neck and a long black dress billowed in folds of sheer nylon and black-rose lace falling down to a pair of severe platform-heeled boots. Through the swishing fabrics of her skirts Jamie noted the familiar tattoos enmeshed behind black nylon, matching the ones that snaked along her thin pale arms draped in swirls of sheer black fabric. She looked like a demonic Rorschach test, and all Jamie could see was her terrifying beauty.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

He clenched his teeth. "Please, come in."

She moved past him into the house, and as he glanced nervously down the street to check no one had seen, he heard Sarah excitedly welcoming the vampress into their room.

"You look a-mazing!" he heard her say as he closed the door and hovered in the entryway, unsure what to do next.

"You look beautiful too," Melissa replied, "Could I trouble you for a drink? I need to warm up after standing around outside so long."

"Sorry about that, she's not used to receiving visitors. Bitch!" The summons was loud and sharp and Jamie found his body moving against his will back into the living room where the two women stood looking at him coldly. "Fix us two drinks, and put on some music."

Jamie scurried into the kitchen, mixed two whiskey sodas, returned to the living room, and put on the playlist Sarah had painstakingly spent the last week curating.

"It's nice to see you again." Sarah was telling Melissa.

"Well, I had to come back. You've been holding my second nicest underwear hostage."

"Oh yes! Before I forget. Maid." She clicked her fingers. "Run upstairs and bring Melissa her things please."

Jamie scurried off, glad to be out their sight for a few minutes, but before long he was returning down the stairs with the black lace panties he had become so intimate with this last week.

"Here you are, mistress." He said, offering them to Sarah.

"They're not for me, they're for our guest."

Burning red with embarrassment, Jamie turned to face Melissa and offered her the panties she had left stretched across his face the morning after taking his girlfriend in his bed. She took them without looking at him and slid them into her purse.

"Thanks for washing them."

"Oh, I had the maid do it, by hand. I made sure she inspected them very, very closely to make sure none of her disgusting saliva was left on them."

"Good." Melissa said, and tipped her glass.

They sipped their drinks and chatted on either side of the corner-sofa whilst Jamie hovered awkwardly nearby, totally unsure as to what he was meant to do next. Unfortunately it wasn't long before he found out.

"Maid, come here. Melissa has nowhere to put her drink." He hurried over and grabbed a coaster from the other end of the coffee table, placing it within easy reach, and went to return to his position. A sudden silence gave him pause.

"I think we can show our guest a little more manners than that, don't you?" He turned to face the pair. "Kneel." He knelt. "Hands." He offered up both hands in supplication and Melissa placed the cold tumblr on his upturned palm, continuing her conversation as though she hadn't even noticed he was there.

As they talked about their weeks Jamie kept his eyes firmly glued to the glass, terrified that a moment's lapse in concentration would send the contents spilling all over Sarah's date. He could think of nothing worse, and nothing more tempting. Think of the cage. Think of release.

After a while they finished their drinks and Jamie was sent back to the kitchen to fix two more, he returned and knelt back down in front of the red-haired gorgon, but this time she relaxed back against the cushions and cradled her glass between her long red nails.

Jamie hoped he was about to be dismissed, but as Melissa leant back she brought the right leg of her high-heeled boot up against the side of his neck and pushed him over sideways to his left. Alarmed, he reached out his hands to steady his fall, his hips swinging round as he did so bringing him up onto all fours. He felt the weight of her boots pressing into his back, smoothing him out till he was level with his head orientated towards Sarah, her feet planted on the floor beneath his face.

Heat burned in his cheeks as he heard his girlfriend laugh. "You're right! This place has always needed a footstool." Please don't.

He watched his girlfriend's feet kick up out of view, heard the sound of friction as she crossed her legs and felt the pressure as she pushed her foot down onto the back of his head. As she did so her other foot looped beneath and her toes hooked his chin, pressing his mouth and nose up into the fabric of her tights and bringing his eye-line inescapably level with her crotch. The dress she was wearing had already been short, but sat down with her legs raised it was almost non-existent. Jamie was afforded a full view of the frilly lace of her fanciest underwear poking out between the curves of her inner thigh. The underwear I bought for our anniversary. He couldn't move, he couldn't look away. They hadn't needed ropes, they had turned him into an immobile piece of furniture with nothing more than four legs, gravity, and fear.