It was Sunday morning, yet there was no chance of a lie-in for Simon. He had set his alarm for 5:30 AM, as instructed, but had not factored in nocturnal erections, which negated the need for an external clock. At 4 AM, he had been sharply woken up by the most agonising pain imaginable--his penis was desperate to expand to its full length and girth, while the stainless steel bars of his chastity device were equally determined to stop it from doing so. As steel trumps flesh, the cage won outright, but his truculent organ had a mind of its own and seemed oblivious to his suffering.

Sleep was impossible, and his only option was to get out of bed in the hope that his erection might subside when he was fully awake. Unfortunately, that was not to be, and come 4:30 PM, he was forced to take a cold shower, hoping that doing so wouldn't wake Sarah. His erection subsided, but he was then too alert to go back to sleep so he got dressed, donning a clean pair of knickers along with his bra, jeans and T-shirt from the day before. To pass the time he turned his phone on but was disappointed, although not surprised, to find that internet access was blocked at that time of day.

Sarah had told him she has a lie-in at weekends, with 8:30 AM being her Sunday wake-up time. With hours to kill, Simon decided to have a quick breakfast and then get on with some chores. It hadn't escaped his attention that Sarah had left her dirty laundry bag outside her room containing her clothes from Saturday. That was something for him to be getting on with, along with his own undies.

He also did some further, albeit quiet, cleaning to keep abreast of his duties and to help take his mind off his growing sexual frustration--it was Thursday when he had last masturbated, and he desperately needed to do so again. He knew that three days sounded like nothing, yet he had needs, and his sexual excitement was not helped by being dressed en femme whilst wearing a chastity device. These factors conspired to exacerbate his frustration.

At the appointed time, he took Sarah's breakfast upstairs on a tray. She was sitting up in bed, reading a book, with the duvet pulled up to hide her breasts. "Good morning, Miss Jones, I hope you've slept well," he cheerfully enquired, hoping to keep on the right side of her today.

"Oh, morning, Simone," she replied, "yeah, I slept OK, thanks. How about you?"

"Er, I'm afraid that my willy woke me up, Miss. I don't think it understands that it's in a cage." He grinned and tried to make light of his predicament, hoping she might pity him.

She, though, was dismissive of his concerns. "Hmm, unfortunately, it can't be helped, but I'm sure it will soon learn to control itself." She smiled mischievously at him, aware that her prediction was likely to prove wide of the mark.

"Now it's supposed to be a lovely warm spring day, Simone, and it shouldn't rain, so you'll be working outside in the back garden. There's loads to do--the lawn and hedges need cutting, the vegetable patch needs preparing and the flowerbeds have to be weeded. It should keep you busy all day and help take your mind off things." As she stressed that final word she purposefully glanced down at his crotch, to let him know what 'things' he needed to take his mind off.

The thought of being outside, dressed as he was, was a terrifying prospect for Simon. What especially concerned him was wearing a white bra beneath a white T-shirt. It would be so obvious, especially when he was bending over or stretching.

"It's OK if I wear a coat, isn't it, Miss Jones? It might be chilly at this time of year," he asked, more in hope than expectation.

"No! You don't need a coat. The forecast said it would be unseasonably warm and, besides, you'll soon work up a sweat."

"Erm ... what about the neighbours, Miss?" he asked.

"What about them?" she responded, putting on a puzzled expression that he suspected wasn't entirely genuine.

"Er ... won't they think it funny that a man dressed as a woman is doing your gardening? It might be embarrassing for you, Miss."

"Me?! Why me? Don't you worry about me, because I can look after myself. Anyhow, people dress in all sorts of different ways nowadays. Gender is very fluid. Do try to keep up with what's going on in the world, Simone. Besides, there's nothing illegal in a man dressing as a woman. It's not as if I'm sending you out naked or in your underwear. Stop creating problems that don't exist. Understood?"

"Hmm, yes, Miss, I think I understand." He knew this was an argument he wasn't going to win and, moreover, that Sarah knew the true reason for his reticence.

"You'll find all the equipment you need in the tool shed at the bottom of the garden. The key's hanging up in the kitchen. Oh, and as it's Sunday and early, you'll have to start with something quiet. I don't want you disturbing the neighbours from their slumbers with the lawnmower or hedge trimmer."

Resigned to his fate, Simon went outside with the key and made his way to the tool shed, on his way glancing at the other shed where his black bags were locked up. He'd not seen a key for that shed in the kitchen so he guessed that Sarah had secreted it somewhere, along with the key to his chastity device.

Heeding her advice not to cause a disturbance early on a Sunday morning he began by digging over the vegetable patch before moving on to weeding the flower beds. Only at around eleven did he turn his attention to the noisy equipment needed for hedge cutting.

A long, overgrown privet hedge formed the left-hand boundary of the property and it was so tall it was blocking out light. He decided it needed a good couple of feet taken off the top and set about doing so, slicing through with the trimmer and then pulling off the cut foliage. He was halfway down, and had just removed another chunk, when he was taken aback to see a young woman staring at him from the other side.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, "I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm Claire, Sarah's neighbour."

Claire was very pretty and in her early twenties, so nearly ten years younger than Simon. She must have noticed how he was dressed and this caused him to go pillar box red.

"H... hello," he tentatively replied.

"Sorry, I've embarrassed you, haven't I, sweetie? What's your name?"

"Er, I'm, I'm Simon," he stuttered.

"Hello, Simon! Have you moved in with Sarah?"

"Hmm ... yes, I have, but I don't know how long I'll be staying."

"Lucky Sarah. You're very good-looking, sweetie. I've been watching you out of my bedroom window." She pointed up so that Simon could see where her lair was. "You've been toiling away all morning."

She paused and sniggered, "Sorry, I shouldn't have been peeping, but I can't resist people-watching and working out what makes them tick. What makes you tick, sweetie?"

"Erm, I don't know! I suppose I like pleasing people. I guess this is why I'm doing gardening for Sarah." He allowed himself a little chuckle but he found her bold manner to be disconcerting, not to mention her calling him sweetie.

"Ooooh, that's so nice of you. She always says how much she hates gardening. I'm the same so you can do mine next ... only joking, sweetie. Sorry! I'm making you go all red again. It's a fault of mine but I'm harmless. Honest!"

She was laughing--not out of embarrassment but seemingly because she had a bubbly personality and was not backward in coming forwards.

"You don't need to apologise, Claire, it's, it's just that I wasn't expecting to see someone on the other side of the hedge."

She laughed. "No harm done, eh? I like your T-shirt, sweetie. I used to have one like that."

"Oh, it's nothing, " he dismissively replied, worried about the sudden turn in the direction of the conversation. "It's just something old that Sarah found for me to wear while gardening."

Claire nodded and smiled. "Well, it doesn't look old to me, and it's very nice, sweetie. I'm partway through a fashion and beauty course at the local college, and it interests me what people choose to wear, if you see what I mean." Simon thought she was going to say more, but instead, there was a pregnant pause, which he felt obliged to fill. Was she expecting him to explain why he was wearing a bra?

He ducked the issue, commenting, "Er, yes, there's a lot of choice in clothing nowadays." It sounded like a lame comment, even to him. It couldn't have satisfied her curiosity, but she just returned a smile, causing him to blush again. He gave an anxious laugh. "I must get on, Claire, otherwise I won't be finished."

"I understand, Simon. You don't want Sarah coming out to smack your bottom for standing around gossiping," she giggled. "I'll see you around!" With that, she was gone, leaving Simon to figuratively scratch his chin. Was there some hidden meaning in her reference to him having his bottom spanked? Did she know more than she was letting on? He decided he must be becoming paranoid and continued with his tasks.

At around 1 PM, Sarah called him in to have some lunch, which consisted of a sandwich and a cold drink. As they ate, she explained that she had phoned Emma--Miss Robinson, to him--a little while earlier. "It was just as I thought," she told him. "Miss Robinson didn't want your driving licence and passport to be stolen, so she didn't dump them in the skip."

"That's a relief, Miss," he sighed--for the first time since Friday he thought he detected a ray of hope. "I'm so pleased to hear this. Thank you for calling her."

"Ooooh! Hang on, you're jumping the gun. She went on to tell me that you'd swore at her on Friday evening. You called her a bitch and a cow, and even used the F-word. You don't really think that's acceptable behaviour, Simone? I think I've got my work cut out taking care of you. It's a bigger job than I was expecting."

He was crestfallen on hearing that Emma had told Sarah what had happened. "I'm very sorry, Miss. I just lost my temper. I don't usually do that."

"I hope not but now you'll be spending another extra two days locked up as well as writing another hundred lines this evening. Let me think. Ah, yes, the line will be 'I apologise for swearing at Miss Robinson.' Tomorrow, you can post the lines through her door to show her that you're sorry."

"Yes, Miss, sorry, Miss," he replied sheepishly, while hoping that Sarah might forget about that last edict come the morning.

"Anyhow, to get back to what I was saying. Your torrent of bad language distressed her so much that she destroyed your ID."

What? Simon had to bite his lips to stop an outburst that would undoubtedly have led to more punishment. He took a deep breath, and trying his best to control his emotions, went on to say, "But, but, without those documents, I won't be able to get new cards from the bank. I need them. What, what can I do now?"

Nonchalantly, she answered him, "Yes, it's a pity you couldn't control your temper, but actions have consequences." She smiled cockily at him, as if to inform him he'd got what he deserved. "But there is some good news! With hindsight, Miss Robinson thought she might have been a little hasty, so she and I put our heads together and came up with a simple solution."

Sarah stopped and stared at him, keeping him on tenterhooks. Reading her facial expression, he very much doubted that this 'simple solution' would be to his liking. After several seconds, which seemed to run into minutes for Simon, she starkly stated, "Tomorrow, just pop into Payroll at work and fill out a form to get them to pay your salary into my bank account. I'll give you my details."

His eyes nearly popped out of his head and he was lost for words. As he struggled to decide how to respond, Sarah continued, "I hope that gormless expression of yours is not trying to tell me I can't be trusted, Simone. You know I'm not a thief, and your money will be safe with me. Yes?"

What could he say except, "Er, I know you'll take care of my money, Miss. It's, it's just that I need to have access to it."

"Why? What do you think you're going to spend it on that I can't buy for you, if it's justified? Besides, I'm not having you freeloading, living here for nothing, so I'm expecting contributions towards expenses--mortgage, insurance, council tax, food, electricity, gas, petrol, you name it. If the money's paid into my account it will make it easier for me to get paid what I'm owed. What's left over I will keep safe for you."

"Er ..." He didn't know what to say but the conversation was not going the way he wished.

She stared hard at him, as if reading his thoughts, and then a faint smile crossed her lips. "You're planning to escape from here, aren't you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes as she did so.

In an instant, his face turned crimson and he was overcome by a sense of panic. All he could do was utter, "No, no! I'm, I'm not!"

"You're lying and I don't like liars," she said very firmly. "This is your last chance to tell the truth. You're planning to escape, yes?"

"Er, yes, Miss, sorry, Miss," he admitted, with tears now forming in his eyes.

"Pathetic! If you ever lie to me again you'll pay a heavy price," she retorted. "But why not go now, this very minute? You're not a prisoner, Simone. The doors aren't locked. Why not leave now?"

"Er..." Again, he was struggling for words. The rug had been pulled from beneath him.

"Of course, you'll have broken your side of our bargain to work for me for twelve months so I'll be free to hand your letter of resignation to Ms Deacon, which I'm sure she'll be over the moon to receive. And, as a matter of urgency, you'll have to find a new home for your black bags because I won't want them in my shed any longer. Oh, and I'd have to try to find the key to your chastity cage. Now where did I put it? It must be somewhere!"

"Er...," he said, trying unsuccessfully to think on the fly.

Sarah was on a roll and ignored him. Putting on a theatrical voice, she intoned, "You'll be free of my evil clutches!" Reverting to speaking normally, she added, "But because of your stupidity you'll have no bank cards and no ID, so you still won't have access to any funds. But it's your decision, Simone. Don't let me influence you."

He could see that he was stuck between a rock and a hard place but he was starting to think that sticking with Sarah might be the better of two bad options. She had awoken submissive tendencies within him and this had been no more evident than those times when he and she were locked in the office filing room while she humiliated him. He--and she--had both found the experience arousing. If he could avoid more punishments and extensions to his time locked in chastity, his life might be bearable.

"Er, I'll stay with you, Miss, if you'll have me," he concluded. "I'm really sorry that I thought otherwise, Miss."

She grinned at him and deduced that he was a broken man, left with no alternative but to provide her with entertainment and sexual pleasure. His alternative plans--if they could be called plans--lay in tatters.

"Life won't be bad for you as long as you obey me but I will be testing you, pushing you to your limits--and beyond." Simon was unnerved by her enthusiastic tone of voice. And, as she spoke, he sensed that she was getting turned on. Her cheeks were now looking flushed and, from the corner of his eye, he saw that her nipples were erect and pushing against her T-shirt. "I'll look after you. We're going to have fun, Simone!" Simon suspected she might be having more fun than him, but he seemed to have no choice.

She stood up. "Good! Now go back to work outside."

He did so, feeling devasted. The hopes he had held, even as little as half an hour ago, that he may only have needed to endure his serfdom for the weekend, or at most a week or so, had been dashed. He couldn't see any escape. He had truly jumped from the frying pan into the fire.

Outside again, and feeling dejected, he had the hedges to finish and then the lawn to cut. At least carrying out these tasks gave him something to take his mind off wondering what his future was to be.

He still hadn't completed his work when Sarah called him inside at seven for dinner. Going into the house he was surprised to be met by the smell of roast beef. "It's Sunday, and on Sundays, we have a big dinner--meat, Yorkshire pud, roast potatoes, parsnips, and two veg. I told you, as long as you don't resist my authority, I'll take care of you."

It was a delicious dinner and just what he needed after a long day in the garden. She didn't seem to be holding a grudge against him after her discovery earlier that he had been planning to escape, yet her good-Sarah/bad-Sarah routine was playing havoc with his emotions.

"It's the office tomorrow, Simone, and you'll wear what Miss Robinson insisted you wear--panties, bra, camisole, tights and blouse, along with your suit. OK?

"Yes, Miss," he replied, accepting that he had no say in the matter.

"Good. You need to get the dishes done and then you can write your lines. Go on, get a move on."

There were a lot of dishes and pans to wash but soon he was sitting at the kitchen table preparing to write his lines. He was still feeling despondent at how Sarah had chosen not even to glance at the lines he'd written the previous evening. A voice inside him said he was wasting his time doing them to the best of his ability and it was better to scribble them fast on the assumption she wouldn't review them. But a conflicting voice sensed a trap and, fortunately, he listened to that voice and he wrote them out as carefully and as meticulously as the last time. His actions were vindicated when Sarah went through his work line by line, looking for errors.

"Wow!" she said, causing him to blush, "You've done these well. You're a good girl, Simone. What are you?"

He hesitated to reply, but the expectant look she gave him, with quizzically raised eyebrows, told him he had no choice. "Er, I'm a good girl, Miss." She beamed him a satisfied smile as he squirmed in embarrassment.

Keen to change the subject, he ventured, "May I ask you a question, Miss?"

"Go on."

"I met a neighbour this morning who said her name was Claire."

"Miss Fraser you mean, but carry on."

"Er, Miss Fraser was charming but I thought it bizarre that she didn't comment on me being dressed as a girl, except to say she liked my T-shirt."

"I told you, nobody worries nowadays."

"Yes, but she seemed to be taking an interest in me and said she'd been watching me out of her bedroom window."

"I'm sure she did. She likes working out what makes people tick."

"Yes, she mentioned that."

"There you go, then. Stop worrying about everything." She gave him a smug smile. "Hey! Look at the time. Bed for you. because it's the office tomorrow."

"Yes, Miss. Is there anything you need before I go up?"

"No, thank you," she replied with a smile.

In low spirits, he climbed the stairs to his room, trying to figure out how he could best survive the next twelve months. Total obedience seemed to be the key. But what did she mean by saying she'd push him to his limits and beyond?