Keith was lying on the table in what appeared to him to be a veterinary clinic at the academy. He had been fitted into a new—and much smaller—chastity cage and was still suffering the effects of Emily stress testing it by displaying her boobs to him. As he processed the throbbing pain, he realised that Madame Isabella had entered the room carrying her stout leather tawse. The sight of that weapon had the effect of killing...

Madame Isabella, the owner of the Elite Pet Training Academy, was on the phone. Emily, her stunning young assistant, sat the other side of the desk, listening to a one-sided conversation. “Really, Mrs Bradshaw? I would have thought that Keith would have learnt by now the importance of obedience. I'm so sorry to hear that he's still resisting learning new tricks.” ... “Yes, of course, I agree with you that it would be wron...

Keith was at the Elite Pet Training Academy to learn a new trick. So far, he had only had dealings with Emily, the attractive twenty-year assistant to the proprietor, Madame Isabella. Emily had been nice to him, in her own way, but now he had been led into a room where he came face-to-face with Madame Isabella. She could be friendly, especially with Emily, but when teaching a refractory pet obedience then she was anything...

Madame Isabella, the attractive, fifty-year old proprietor of the Elite Pet Training Academy, put the phone down. “Emily! We've got another booking!” she called. Emily rushed in from an adjoining room. Aged just twenty, she was even more attractive and had only started at the academy two weeks earlier. But she was as keen as mustard and intent on showing her boss that she was dedicated to the job. “Yes, Ma'am?” Emily aske...

Laura, Amy and I had settled into a lifestyle that some might find strange, but which suited us. I was in a female-led relationship, bottom in the pecking order, beneath two stunning and demanding young women. I was sexually attracted to both girls, and whilst Laura was my true love, I was more than happy to service Amy and she took great delight in teasing me, often in the most flirtatious of ways. Laura showed no jealou...

The spectre of Dave the postman still haunted my thoughts. So far, he had not made a further play to join in what he called our games, but he had been on annual leave for two or three weeks, which was a blessed relief. Nonetheless, Laura and I were sure that he still held hopes of impregnating me. Laura, contrary to what readers might think, was always protective towards me. She knew I was strictly heterosexual and wherea...

“Model?” I heard myself saying. “Yes-s, pet—m-model,” Amy slowly repeated, slurring her words. It was Saturday afternoon. We had had lunch and Amy and Laura had consumed a bottle of Prosecco between them, with Amy having the greater part. Now, sitting side-by-side on the sofa, staring up at me, they had started a second bottle. I could tell from their amused expressions that they were in a teasing mood, Amy probably more...

I was struggling to come to terms with my new cage. It seemed so much smaller than the old one, and there was no room for expansion. I was often in discomfort and frequently in pain. Yet I knew I had to tread carefully with Laura. Telling her it was too tight always led to the same conversation. “When will this trial end?” I would ask. “Soon,” she would reply. “But we need to give it a fair go, don't we, after spending al...

Laura and I were inside Madame Cage's shop, a back street emporium selling anything and everything associated with BDSM. I was there to be fitted with a new—and smaller—chastity device, but, so far, the occasion had proceeded no further than Madame Cage making derogatory remarks that worried me and embarrassed Laura. Madame Cage was an intimidating woman, so much so that I thought even Laura was feeling subdued in her pre...

Life was good and was moving on apace. Laura had passed her final biology exams and was now working towards a doctorate, while Amy and I continued with our own post-grad history studies. Within the constraints of our FLR, the three of us got on well and strong bonds were being formed. Nonetheless, there were a couple of dark clouds on the horizon. One was the spectre of Dave the postman who had discovered some of our secr...

“You idiot, Stevie!” bellowed Laura, her face screwed up in incredulity. We had just returned from our country walk and pub lunch. A seemingly innocuous affair, except I had been dressed as a girl, I had been spanked in front of Amy for disobedience, and then we had encountered my GP, Dr Sam Payne, and I had ended up under the table worshiping her mucky feet. Other than that, it had been an uneventful day! On getting home...

We arrived back at the pub, entering directly into the garden. The summer sunshine had brought out a lot of people, all keen to sit outside. Luckily, there was one table free, and, even luckier, it was away from the other tables so would afford us some privacy. My bottom was still smarting from my recent spanking, and my penis still twitching from the exchange between Laura and Amy, where the former had threatened to puni...

We were now in mid-summer and, against all odds, the weather in England was hot and dry. There was no air-conditioning in the flat so it could get stuffy. So much so, that I had voluntarily chosen to wear one of my sundresses at home, as it was cooler than being stuck in leggings and jeans. Me embracing a dress had thrilled Laura, who had responded by buying me a couple of miniskirts and some new tops. She had also made i...

“That could not have gone any worse,” I whispered to Laura. I had just had the most embarrassing consultation with my GP, Dr Sam Payne. Not only did the doctor turn out to be a woman, not a man, as I had expected, but she had correctly deduced that I was usually locked into a chastity device. And then, to top it all, she had accidentally found my scarlet panties. Feeling dazed, I had left the consultation room and rejoine...

“What do you mean, you've got a sore, Stevie?” I reddened as Laura quizzically stared up at me. Her using my name was always a warning sign, none more so than when she placed stress on the word. She was sat on the sofa, and I was stood in front of her, looking down at her. Towering over her, as I was, it might be thought I was in the position of dominance. Far from it; instead, I felt like a naughty boy reporting to the h...