Joanne Drake climbed up off Gordon and started to laugh. “Our little experiment worked quite well don’t you think? You trying my panties on did get you to your … um… full potential, and watching you got me so excited that … well I just had to run upstairs and ….. of course next time, I’ll sit here and get you to put on a bit of a show for me first instead of looking at you on a 3 inch screen. That’ll probably be even better.”
Gordon stared upwards at the ceiling as he pushed the satin panties down his legs and off over his feet. He threw them on top of the other underwear he’d tried on, and started to wonder what Mrs Drake meant by ‘show’, and when ‘next time’ might be when she interrupted his thought process with a question he’d been expecting for nearly two hours.
“What was the message my sister sent you round here with anyway? We never got to that.”
Gordon Lister was still thinking of the best way to answer when Joanne Drake carried on, “Oh forget it. It won’t matter. I know her too well. We’re very alike the two of us. She’ll have sent you just so that I could see what a handsome errand boy she’d got working for her. Typical Emma. Trying to make me jealous as I’m just a housewife and she’s running a finance company with underlings like you who she thinks will do whatever she wants. But she can’t get you to do the things that I can. So now I’m the one who’s up, and she won’t even know. It’ll be our secret, and I’ve always loved knowing something that she didn’t. What could be better than making her new executive toy go to work everyday wearing a pair of my panties?”
Gordon didn’t reply. He just lay on the bed deep in thought, staring at the ceiling. He’d recognised the baby monitor, and knew that Mrs Drake had been watching as soon as he saw the operating light flashing on its back, but had only hoped that she might get excited enough to want to have sex him. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might record everything he did and use the film as blackmail.
“What’s the matter Gordon? Trying to think of a way out? There isn’t one. Fail to send me proof that you’re at work in a pair of panties and the film of you trying on my underwear goes straight to my sister. Not only will she fire you, she’ll be so angry that she’ll send the video viral and nobody else will give you a job.”
Joanne Drake started laughing as she added, “But look on the bright side. You sending me a picture of your panty-wearing hard-on is likely to get me so excited that I’ll insist on you rushing round here to spend your lunchtime fucking me. That’ll be another way to get my own back for her never letting me play with her toys when we were kids. Using her lastest prized acquisition whenever I want, so that’ll be two secrets we’ll be keeping from her…”
She was still laughing as she left the room leaving Gordon staring up at the ceiing and trying to work out why Mrs Drake hadn’t noticed that all the underwear on the floor was women’s, and that one pair wasn’t even her’s.
Joanne Drake also hadn’t noticed, but he had delivered the message Emma Grant had sent him round with, which was to tell her sister ‘that you’re wearing my underwear’. She’d explained it not just as a punishing humiliation for getting her coffee order wrong, but as a way of showing her sister how much power she had, especially over young men who she could make do anything. Well, those in her employment anyway, and jobs which paid so well were difficult to find. He’d been surprised to be told on his first day that men were definitely inferior and had do whatever they were told. And just in case any of them thought otherwise, it was to be a condition of employment that at all times they must be wearing very effeminate underwear “so that there’s no irritating male ego” as Mrs Grant had put it before she’d added that effort would be rewarded and failure to comply punished.
He got up off the bed, put back on the pair of Mrs Grant’s panties he’d arrived in, redressed in his shirt, socks, suit and shoes, and stuffed the rest of the underwear into his pockets. He grinned to himself at the thought of Mrs Grant thinking he’d gone and bought some very expensive frllies to impress her, and wondered if maybe it would lead to some sort of special attention. After all, as he now knew that both sisters liked the same sort of thing, what he was going to wear tomorrow was certain to be to Mrs Grant’s liking.
He walked slowly back downstairs, passed a still-laughing Joanne Drake, and got yet another erection at the thought of having to return every lunchtime to have sex with a woman who looked like a younger version of the one he’d been spending every hour of every working day fantasizing about doing more than just getting into her pants ….