Made to Obey Ch. 10

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"Yes ma'am." Even this couldn't diminish the pleasure my sense of anticipation had brought to me.

"And you're to practise a little harder in the next few days on doing your make-up, starting tonight. You should be able to do your eyelashes properly by now. You've got your own make-up and you can use some of mine this weekend if you want. I'll tell you what you must wear too and if I hear you've not complied, you know what will happen."

I sure did and, I wasn't going to disobey her instructions, no way.

I managed to see out the rest of the week without accidentally having an uncontrolled "emission", it wasn't easy though.

Ruth sent me off to work on the Friday morning. The thought of her having sex with this Maggy had made Ruth one cheerful, excited woman. She'd get her sexual desires met this weekend and, provided I did as I was told by her, my turn would come next week. Perhaps it was just as well that I was really busy on the Friday and had to stay behind and work quite late at the office; it kept my mind off sex. I'd eaten in town early that afternoon and was both too tired and excited to bother making myself anything to eat when I got home. I changed into a shorty nightie and grabbed hold of Ruth's notes to read before going to sleep. I started to read what she wanted me to wear on both Saturday and Sunday and that she wanted me to send her a picture both mornings so that she could inspect my make-up. I'd got the gist of it and decided to read the rest of it in the morning on waking up. It was hard to sleep, but somehow, I managed.

The alarm was set for 7:00, time enough for me to have a few attempts at getting my make-up right and sending Ruth the picture she required. After showering, I went into our (sorry, Ruth's) bedroom to do my make-up and change into my clothes for the day. My dick was constantly nudging up against the metal constraints of my cage, its head almost squashed into the enlarged end, almost filling every square centimetre available inside its gaol.

To my horror, I realised I'd yet to paint my finger and toenails, something I'd intended doing yesterday but, in my fatigue and excitement had forgot. I wasted valuable time doing this before turning my attention to my face. l took great care with applying my eye-shadow and brushing my lashes to maximise the, long, well-defined, sexy black look that Ruth had trained me to strive for. A little foundation and then ever such a faint hint of blusher next, before I chose a blood-red lipstick from Ruth's collection. It took me a few goes before I'd got it just right. I'd kept my head well shaved so didn't need to bother with washing and drying my hair. Esther was due to arrive first I'd been told by Ruth, sometime after 10 a.m. It hadn't yet gone 8:30.

I put on the black choker with white lacy trim and two tinkling bells first. Then, as instructed, a pair of black silk seamed stockings that had about five inches at the top of a darker, patterned silk, the pattern seemed to be of a rose or similar; I was too excited to know or care what it was, they felt just so sexy, so smooth on my long, well-shaved legs.

Next a black, lacy suspender-belt with four straps for each leg. I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the room to help me fasten the stockings and to make sure my seams were straight. I couldn't help but admire how well my legs looked in these, as good as most women I allowed myself to think. I then fitted the ankle-chain that Esther had also bought me, again this had two little bells on it and these, together with the bells on my choker, both made a tingling noise as I walked away from the mirror to get the white French Knickers that Donna had bought for my birthday. I walked back to look at myself again in the mirror, the bells marking out each step with mocking rings. I didn't care. I slowly pulled the knickers up my long legs and sat them nicely around my firm cheeks, their length just reaching the top of my patterned stockings. As I twisted and stretched and admired myself in the mirror, I sensed my dick might not be able to take much more.

Then, I returned to an idea I'd had not so long ago. Perhaps I had time to look in one of the bedside cupboards for a dildo. I knew Ruth used them (in fact I'd bought her one a while ago), and if she'd not taken them all to London, I could use one, make myself come with it and then wash myself again and wash and return the dildo to the cupboard; no one would ever know. It seemed a great idea.

I walked across to the cupboard I believed she kept such things in and, hey presto, there was a selection of various sized dildos. I chose the smallest one and, grabbing a few tissues and some Vaseline from nearby, went ringing and tinkling over to the bed, taking my lovely white French knickers off before setting about the task. I knew it wouldn't take long. I took the precaution of placing a dressing gown on the bed before I lay on it and then with a real sense of relief that I might at last eject the build-up of semen that had, for so long, been trying to escape, spread my legs wide, relishing the feel of the tensing suspender-belt straps. I was just about to smear some Vaseline over the dildo when, holy-shit -- the fucking doorbell rang!

Fuck! Who on earth was that? Esther wasn't due for over an hour, surely it wasn't her? I hastily sprang off the bed, the bells annoyingly jingling away, and walked over to the bedroom window to see who'd completely fucked up my moment of pleasure.

The doorbell rang again and this time, a large banging on the door followed.

"Anyone in?"

It wasn't Esther or Donna. I could see the van on the drive, it was the bloody Supermarket delivery van. I realised in a trice I hadn't cancelled or left instructions to drop the crates by the front door if no one answered; Ruth normally dealt with this. I guessed if I'd read all of Ruth's notes, there would have been a reminder to do just that, but as I'd got home much later than expected, I'd not bothered reading all her instructions.

The doorbell rang again followed by another impatient knock and shout. "Anyone in?"

In a rush, I grabbed the dressing gown off the bed and hastily put it on, then rushed into the bathroom and tied a towel over my head.

"Coming, hold on." I called, trying to sound as feminine as possible. "Coming, won't be a minute."

I ran as fast as I could, (putting on my black, open-toed shoes with a pom-pom on and a slight heel as I did so) down the stairs, holding the towel securely onto my head, hoping the sound of the bells ringing hadn't caught the delivery man's attention. As I, rather clumsily, descended the stairs, I realised that Ruth's dressing gown didn't really cover my stocking tops and was a little tight on me, not to worry though, it still covered my caged dick, which had already started to dribble a little.

I hastily unlocked the door and tried to avoid meeting the delivery man's eyes. He was a tall, well-muscled, dark-haired chap in his late twenties I guessed; not the usual man who came.

"Mrs Gifford? Same order as last week then I see. I'll start bringing the cases in then."

"Yes, er, thanks," I opened the door wider to show him through to the kitchen where the driver usually took our order on arrival. Ruth always handled this side of things; damn why hadn't I thought ahead and cancelled it?

At first Russell (I saw his name on a badge) to my relief, carried the crates in without paying me much attention. After he'd placed the last one in there, he turned and called me over to him in the kitchen.

"Can you just sign this for me please Mrs Gifford?"

I felt the towel on my head begin to unfurl a little as I made a small step towards him. Foolishly I raised both arms up to steady it but, in doing so, I allowed the belt on the tight-fitting dressing gown to become loose and then, to my horror, to come undone. I felt the slight breeze across my stocking tops and thighs as it fell away, leaving my encased and dribbling dick, suspender belt and stockinged legs fully exposed. The look on Russell's face made it obvious he'd taken it all in, clearly the sight of my beautifully elegant stocking-clad legs had thrilled him. We both stared at each other for a moment -- in silence (well, I stared at him, he stared at my long legs and then at my caged cock).

"Are you alone?" he asked.

"Why?" I nervously enquired. He ignored my question and shouted "Hi, anyone home? Anyone else here? Hello?"

He waited for an answer which I knew wasn't going to come, then he turned to me with a big grin on his face.

"You're a fucking man, aren't you? You're one of them sissies yeah?"

"Can you leave now please?" I said, hastily trying to tie my dressing gown belt and cover my shame.

"Come here bitch," he pulled me towards him and, although I tried to hold him off, he grabbed hold of my wrist; my dressing-gown fell open again and he yanked me further into the kitchen.

"My wife's pregnant again, 7 months' gone. I've not had sex in ages. And do you know what?"

"What?" I asked, making no attempt to sound feminine, the towel had now fallen from my head too. This was fast becoming a nightmare.

"I'll tell you what, if you don't do as I say, I'm going to drag you out down the road and let your neighbours see what a pansy they've got living by them."

He undid the belt of his trousers and slid them a little down his thighs. I could see his member through the fabric of his underpants, it looked keen to get out. His grip on me tightened, forcing me on to my knees., onto the hard kitchen floor; I managed to nudge the now fallen towel under them.

"Here, suck on this," he moved his other arm across to pull his briefs down and, to my horror, I saw, tattooed on his wrist the badge of Liverpool Football Club (as a fan of Manchester United -Liverpool's arch rivals, this really was as bad as it could get). Out flopped his swollen dick (slightly longer and thicker than mine since you ask).

"Now, if you leave more lipstick on your lips than on my dick, you'll regret it."

"But I've never done this sort of..." I started.

"Suck bitch, or else."

What else could I do, I ask you? I closed my eyes as my lips and the head of his knob made contact.

"Lick that sweetly you bitch, go on. Paint that lipstick all over my knob."

Trying to fight off the nauseas feeling as flesh met, I smeared my lips around his big bell-end, trying desperately not to let his meat and juices spend any time on my taste buds. I tried to pull my head away but Russell held the back of it and pushed it forward.

"No you don't. Suck you pansy; suck the whole length, you know you want to."

I took his cock further into my mouth, his strong hand on my head making sure I couldn't retreat. I could hear the bells on my choker tinkling as though ringing out in mockery at my humiliation.

Eyes closed, I sucked up and down, up and down. I tasted a little come on my tongue but managed not to throw-up. In my head, I'd had this horrible thought that maybe Esther would turn up now, in the middle of my fellating the delivery guy. Wouldn't that be just my luck?

I decided therefore to try and make him come as soon as possible; get it over and done with before anyone else turned up. I reached up a hand and started to fondle his balls and masturbate him from the base of his dick. He leant back a bit but still went on pushing his dick deeper and deeper; I was finding it hard to breath. At the first sign of his grip easing and, on a backward slide out of my mouth, I managed to clasp my lips around his bell-end and licked, hard and strong; he'd started to wank himself too.

"Ah! That's lovely bitch, yes, keep on like that, yes, yes..."

His hand reached down and pinched my nostrils, I gasped for air at which time he thrust his pole back into my mouth and rapidly started his thrusts again. I heard him groan, sensed his legs trembling and then felt the hot sticky flow of his semen spurt against the back of my mouth, my tonsils, over my teeth and gums and around my tongue. I wanted to spit it out; to be sick, but he held my head firmly in place; still he came in long jets. My mouth was awash with all his gunk.

"Swallow it sissy. Now. Do as I say."

He let go of the back of my head and lifted my chin up so that he could see that I swallowed all he'd given me.

I gulped and closed my eyes as I let a big lot of spunk go down my throat. Before this, there'd been too much to keep within my cheeks and a little dribble had come out on either side of my lips. He wiped this up with a finger and, when I'd finished swallowing all his cream, thrust it into my mouth to lick clean.

His dick, now losing tumescence, sat a few inches away from my face, blobs of come still seeping to the surface. He noticed my looking at it.

"Lick it clean sissy, now, all of it. Suck the last few drops out or else."

I was nearly in tears as I lowered my head once again and used my lips to force his foreskin back so that I could take all the come that hadn't made it into my mouth first time.

Eventually, after what seemed like an age, he pulled back and put his dick away and did his trousers up.

"There, you enjoyed that didn't you? Admit it sissy. You enjoy sucking cock yeah? Maybe we can do it next week too."

He laughed, but having had a chance to collect my thoughts, I stood up and warned him. "If this ever comes out or you ever try it again, I'll come to your depot, I know your name -- it's on the badge, and I'll tell all your workmates you like your cock sucked by men. Maybe your wife too will get to hear, do you want that?"

That seemed to rock him, he hadn't thought of that.

"Okay, all right. It's our little secret okay?" he mumbled.

I picked up the invoice I had to sign from the floor where he'd dropped it and he handed me a pen. All this in silence.

I signed, "Carla Gifford", without a second thought and handed them back to him.

"Now clear off," I managed to utter in my sternest voice He turned and left not noticing that, to my shame, I too had come.

Holy fuck, I looked at the time. Esther might be here any moment. I desperately wanted to rush upstairs and brush my teeth, gargle with mouthwash, do anything to get the taste of his come out of my mouth, but I also had a lot of cleaning up to do. My lovely stockings and my shoes were covered in my come -- and there was some on the kitchen floor. I rushed and got some kitchen towel to wipe up the largest blobs from the tiles. Then I rushed upstairs, cursing the bloody bells and their mocking jingles, took my anklet, stockings and shoes off and tried desperately to clean away all signs of this episode. After a rinse of mouthwash, I at last gathered a little composure and started the morning all over again, showering to clean my chastity device and washing my face before reapplying my make-up. The underwear seemed cleared of come stains although a little damp and I hastily fitted these again.

Out of curiosity, I went to look at the notes Ruth had left me to read but I'd not read fully the night before. There, on the back of the second page I saw her reminder: -

"Leave a note out on the door for the shopping to be left on the step as I won't be here to take delivery."

Just then my mobile phone rang, it was Ruth for a video call.

"Where's the picture Carla? I told you to send me a picture, didn't I?"

I could hear laughing in the background; Maggy I presumed.

"I'm sorry Ru..." I was about to say Ruth but stopped just in time. "I'm sorry ma'am," (I heard a loud guffaw)., "I had an awful time getting my eyelashes right. I'm almost done now. Give me 5 minutes please."

"Okay, but you better not be up to anything do you hear? 5 minutes, and make it a video call okay."

This time I put my French Knickers on without looking at them on me in the mirror, next followed the short, sleeveless and backless black dress that Ruth had selected for me. It took me a few attempts to fasten the zip at the back and the button but, as soon as I'd done that, and slipped my shoes on again, I called her.

"I'm dressed now ma'am," and I held the phone close to my face so that she could inspect my make-up. She expressed approval. I then stood back to give her a full-length view of me in my dress, the hem of which just about covered my thighs and stocking-tops. I did look rather sexy I thought, even though I had no breasts.

"Okay Carla, good girl. You remember what I've told you now. I don't want any complaints when I get back. Oh, hold on, Maggy wants to have a look at you."

I could see a figure approaching over Ruth's shoulder, a tall, slim, leggy stylish lady in her late forties, who hadn't yet got fully dressed as she was just wearing a purple bra and slip. She chuckled as she stared at me.

"Gee. She's so cute. Lift your dress up honey, let me see your cage."

On doing this, she gasped and held her hand up to her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"Oh god! I'll have to get my Mitch into one of those."

Ruth laughed alongside her; my discomfort clearly noticeable to her.

"Okay Carla. You can go now and, don't forget, I want you to obey my mum and sister. I don't want them to have any cause for complaint or you know what will happen? No sex with me, understand?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Oh, by the way Carla, did you leave the note out for the delivery man to leave the crates outside by the door?"

"Yes ma'am, I did," I lied.

"Oh, he's so cute, what a pansy" Maggy mocked in the background.

"Good girl. And did the delivery man come?" Ruth asked.

"Yes ma'am. The delivery man came," was my truthful reply.

"Okay Carla, I'll let you get back to your duties. Bye-Bye now," she ended: I could see Maggy waving to me behind her.

"Bye-bye ma'am."

I then had to rush downstairs and give the floor a good clean, put away the shopping that had been delivered and return the dressing-gown and towel to their original locations. I'd sprayed plenty of air-freshener about the place to mask any scent of semen that might have been detectable.

I managed to have a little breakfast and coffee, which helped a little taking away the taste of come that seemed to linger in my mouth. Considering the morning I'd had, I'd managed to regain a measure of self-composure, and when Esther rang the doorbell just after 11a.m. I remembered to address her in the manner instructed.

"Morning ma'am."

She was wearing tight blue jeans and a crisp, white cotton blouse; she raised her sunglasses and rested them on her head. She smiled at me and brushed past, carrying with her a briefcase and a handbag.

Nodding towards the small suitcase she'd left by the front door, she spoke to me in the same calm, assured tone of superiority I'd come to expect of her.

"Take my case for me please Carla. Am I in the same room as last time?".

"Yes ma'am, your mum's in Ruth's bedroom. I'll take your case up there now."

"Yes do, but remember, when you talk about my mother you say "Miss Donna". Got that?"

"Yes, sorry ma'am. Miss Donna is in - I wasn't sure how I was expected to say "Ruth" to her -- the main bedroom."

She was about to enter the living room but stopped at the bottom of the stairs to watch me, bells jingling away, climb with her case. Was she looking up my skirt? If so, she'd certainly be able to see my stocking-tops and knickers. I may have blushed a little at the thought. I just hoped my seams were straight.

On returning downstairs, I found her in the kitchen pouring herself a drink of orange juice. On seeing me she nodded towards my neck and ankles.

"The bells make a nice addition don't you think Carla?"

"Yes ma'am; very nice."

"Look, I've still a few things to go over from your laptop. I haven't had a great deal of time to spend on it -- I've been very busy -- but, hopefully I can finish it all in the next couple of hours, okay. I'm going to go and finish my investigation in the living room. Just bring me in a coffee and a few biscuits in an hour or so, okay."