By avoiding thinking about them

With a final squeeze, you release each other from the hug and start to discuss the moving arrangements. Neither of you mentions the spankings, the way your landlord groped you, the proof that you are being watched (even before you have properly moved in), nor even the new rules that will be part of your life from now on. You have already signed the contract and you are sure it could be worse, although at the moment you can't think how, exactly. Maybe if you don't talk about it you can pretend it is not happening.

Moving is normally a slow process, but you and Diana were hopeful that this would be the place, or if not, you would find somewhere soon, so you both started packing a few days ago and with a bit of luck you can be in by the end of the day. To do that, you need to get going, though, so you get dressed and head out. You would like to put the mattress protector in the washing machine before you leave, but there are no supplies in the flat, so it will have to wait until you get back with some washing powder. You suppose you will have to spend your first night in your new flat in the spare room.

The bus ride is uneventful, but you and Diana decide to stand the whole way. While your bottom is not too sore to sit down, you are definitely more comfortable keeping the weight off it for the time being. You arrange to meet back at the new place with as many of your belongings as you can manage and spend the night there. Anything left behind, you can collect when you do the end-of-lease clean, which you decide to do together over the next two evenings (one for each of your flats). You will have to be quite diligent to avoid punishment, but by checking each other's work, you are confident you will manage. You still avoid talking about what it will mean to be supervised in the bedroom.

You have never been a hoarder, so you expect you can save money hiring a minivan taxi rather than a professional removal service and a call to the local company bears that out, so you make a booking for a few hours later and then finish packing. One of the side effects of a sore bottom is a greater awareness of things that could get you in trouble, so you notice as you go that you will need a couple more boxes than you estimated and call the cab company to amend your booking. It is very straightforward and to your relief there is no penalty for the change, either financial or physical.

A text from Diana says she is also making good progress, although she still has a couple of hours to go. You reply that you will be in first and make a start on getting things sorted out, which she approves with a thumbs up. Moments later the minivan turns up, a little early, but you're ready, so you're not going to complain about that. The driver helpfully packs most of the boxes. You offer to help, but his experience means he gets the job done much more quickly than you.

Soon, the vehicle is on its way to your new home, with your bottom protesting at every turn and bump in the road. Fortunately, the journey is much quicker than by bus at this time of day when traffic is light and soon your worldly goods are being unloaded again. You briefly wonder whether you ought to strip right now, but decide that as long as you don't actually go past the entrance to the flat, you can stay dressed until the cabbie leaves. It makes little difference in the greater scheme of things, but any opportunity to avoid humiliation is welcome, considering how much humiliation is inevitably going to come your way from now on.

You paid for the order online, but give the driver a cash tip for his helpfulness and efficiency. He seems genuinely appreciative and gives you a cheery wave as he pulls away. Now, you do disrobe and the first thing you do is put the mattress protector on to wash with the detergent you brought from your old place. After that, another text exchange with Diana reveals she has almost finished packing, so you decide to make a start opening boxes.

Surprisingly, it soon becomes apparent that unpacking is a lot more exciting when done naked, with a sore bottom and cameras watching your every move. Before long, you start to wish you were allowed to plop down on the bed and bring yourself to ecstasy, but masturbation is now forbidden to you—which just makes the urge even stronger, of course. You console yourself that it's probably for the best. Even if it were permitted, shoving your fingers deep inside yourself because the toys are yet to be unpacked would be a strange first impression to make on anyone who is watching and might lead to more humiliation than you would enjoy later. A part of you regrets giving so much power to somebody you've barely met, but you can't deny the thrill of pleasure that being exposed and controlled is giving you.

Every time you bend over to reach into a box, a jolt of sweet humiliation makes your clit throb at the thought of the view you are offering to whomever is on the other side of the cameras. After being caught in flagrante earlier, you can't shake the feeling that somebody is always watching, which is the whole point, of course. Still, you do manage to make progress despite the distracting thoughts. You hope Diana will be fine with how you're arranging things; you thought you would instinctively know what she would want when you started, but have found yourself increasingly unsure. For logistics reasons, she spent a lot more time at yours than you did at hers. You should have paid more attention to her surroundings, not just her body. Still, if she doesn't approve, she can always spank you.

The thought of the voyeuristic pleasure that would give Mr. Collins makes the urge to give him another sort of show almost unbearable and you finally allow yourself to wonder how making love under supervision will work. Will you have to apply for the right to touch your girlfriend in advance, or will your landlord schedule your sex life to suit his own desires? Neither option exactly helps your self control.

You make the bed in the spare room for tonight, but put the box of sex toys in the main bedroom, since that is where you'll be spending most nights in future. You make sure the camera has a good view of you unpacking each toy in turn and lay them out, ready for use, imagining the most intimate aspects of your life being on display for many nights to come. The heat rises between your legs as you think about kneeling with your face between your girlfriend's thighs…and then being ordered to stop because your performance does not satisfy George Collins's idea of what a lesbian tryst should be.

An impatient check of your texts reveals nothing from Diana, but you realize nothing productive is going to get done while your fantasies are in overdrive, so you need to find a way to calm down, now your usual avenue of release is no longer open. Besides, you don't really want your girlfriend to know how much this situation is turning you on, at least not yet.