While out on her walk, Emma spent the time deciding how to deal with Simon and by the time she had got back, she had hatched a plan to punish him. On entering the house, she went straight to her study to pick up a pad and pen and then went up to the bedroom to check on Simon. As she hoped, he had obeyed her instructions and her black thong was still in place, pinned to the wall by his nose, showing that he had not fidgeted. She sat down on the bed.
"Right, Simon," she announced. "You may leave the corner now. Come and stand here." She pointed to a spot on the carpet about four feet in front of her.
Simon looked utterly defeated and worn out. It showed in his face and in the way he stood. He really didn't think he would be able to endure any further bouts of corner time, particularly if Emma insisted on him holding her underwear in place with his nose. "Stand up straight please, Simon."
His hands were still bound behind his back and he looked very vulnerable. She had beaten him down with her questioning and he dreaded what was going to happen next.
"Well, your behaviour in my house has been abominable. I welcomed you in as my lover, yet you have abused my hospitality by wearing my clothes. You have then repeatedly lied to me and only by persistent questioning have I been able to establish the truth. Do you accept this summary as being accurate, Simon?"
"Yes, Emma," he replied dejectedly. "I'm really sorry for what I did. Please forgive me?"
"If we're going to put this behind us, you're going to have to be punished. Do you accept that? Because if you don't, then you can pack your bags and move out today. I'm not messing around here. Do I have to kick you out today?"
"Please don't do that, Emma. I couldn't bear to lose you. I'll accept whatever punishment you think is appropriate." He thought he'd already been punished by the corner time he'd been forced to do, but he knew that if he was to continue living with the girl he loved, then he had to accept further punishment.
"Good!" she replied, genuinely pleased that he was willing to accept punishment. "I warn you that it won't be easy, and your punishment will last for four weeks. But when it's over, then we can put all this silliness behind us and move on. How does that sound, darling?"
He perked up at being called 'darling' and felt that she was beginning to forgive him.
"While I was walking, I was thinking about your problem. The way I see it, you can't control your urges," she argued. "Forbidding you from wearing lingerie is not going to stop those urges, I'm sure of that, no matter what promises you make. Therefore, I think the way forward is to give you a big dose of what you crave so as to eliminate these unnatural desires—to get them out of your system if you want to think of it in that way."
He listened intently to what she was saying. She was more intelligent than he was and he wasn't sure he exactly understood what his punishment was to be, but he assumed she would soon be more specific.
"You are going to wear female underwear for the next four weeks. Well, actually, three weeks and six days because your punishment will finish on a Friday evening, but ..."
Simon felt compelled to interrupt, fearless of the possible consequences. "But I go to work! I can't wear female clothing to work. You can't make me do that! It's ridiculous, Emma."
"Relax, Simon! I don't expect you to wear a dress to work! But you will be wearing lingerie—panties, bra, camisole and tights," she asserted, putting considerable emphasis on the word 'will'. "Of course, you will still wear your business suit on top. Obviously, you will feel it to be very disconcerting, but then it would hardly be a punishment if you enjoyed it!" She allowed herself a little laugh, as if to dismiss his concerns.
Then she continued without giving him time to respond. "The idea is that wearing female underwear day in and day out, as part of your normal life, will remove the novelty value that it must have if you only do it for a short time every few days. Add to that the discomfort you may feel wearing feminine attire in places where you may be discovered, then I reckon that after four weeks, you will be cured and will never wear a pair of my knickers again." She looked at him, waiting now for him to respond.
"But, Emma," he pleaded, "when you said I was to be punished, I thought it would be something ... I don't know ... something more conventional. I just can't do what you are asking. Sorry, but I just can't do it."
"That is a shame, darling," she responded. "I hoped that we could fix things between us. My idea of combining punishment with aversion therapy seemed to kill two birds with one stone. But I understand, sweetheart, it was asking a lot. I'll help you pack, shall I?"
"No, Emma. Please! There has to be another way. Please give me another chance. Punish me in whatever way you want, but don't make me wear lingerie to work." He dropped down to his knees, tears spilling from his eyes. If his hands had not been tied, he would have put them together in prayer.
"I'm so sorry, but I don't see any other way. If I punished you in a straightforward manner, I don't see how it would cure you of your addiction. You'd soon want to return to wearing my clothes again, no matter what promises you made. You do understand, darling? I'll untie your hands so we can get you packed up and on your way."
"NO! I give in," he shouted. "I can't bear to lose you, Emma. I'll do what you want."
A smile lit up her face. "Good move!" she exclaimed. "It won't be easy for you, darling, but provided you do everything that you are told, in four weeks it will all be over and we can put this behind us and start afresh." She gave him a peck on the forehead and then untied his hands.
"I want you to get dressed and while you're doing that, I'll write out a shopping list." She picked up her black thong. "Oh, you can put this on. No more male underwear for you for four weeks."
He felt embarrassed about slipping on her panties while she was in the room but a quick glance showed him that she was absorbed with her list and was paying him no attention. Soon he was dressed and she had finished writing.
She handed the paper to him and he blushed intensely when he read what she had written:
- 3 pairs of pink cotton panties - bikini style
- 3 white bras, underwired, plain with seamless moulded cups, back-fastening, white shoulder straps (no transparent straps!) - C cup
- 3 pairs tights - black
- 3 white camisoles with spaghetti straps
- 3 white lady's blouses - buttons on left-hand side! Capable of being worn with a tie!
- Large pack of pantyliners - with wings!
She let him read through the list, watching him absorb the information and observing the look of horror that was spreading across his face. He looked at her and was trying to speak but was having problems forming the words. She didn't wait for his protests and went on to explain. "This is the minimum that you need, three of everything. That way you will be wearing one, another will be in the wash and the third will be ready to wear the next day. But you can buy more if you want. It might make it easier for your laundry." It amused her to see him blushing, and she could see that he was virtually speechless.