Bondage/chasbelt
                                D. Glenn Arthur Jr.
                                 Chastity Belt, The
            ===========================================================================
                       "The Chastity Belt", a fantasy by D. Glenn Arthur Jr.
                                      Copyright 14 April, 1993
            ===========================================================================
                    Wearing the chastity belt for a year had been harder to bear
                   than I'd expected.  I mean, I was skeptical about it when she
                   first suggested it, saying that she wanted me to wear it for 
                    a year to demonstrate my devotion to her, but as she slowly
                  talked me into it I managed to convince myself that it couldn't
                   be all that bad, especially since I'd know it would be removed
                   eventually.  I hadn't realized how frustrated I could get, or
                         that frustration could actually drive me to tears.
                    "I really want you to do this," she'd said.  "I want to know
                     that you're this serious about our relationship.  Please, 
                     honey, if you want me to be your Mistress, I want to know 
                    that you can take being dominated for a long time without a
                                              break."
                    "You mean you want to test me," I said, not sure whether to
                                         feel hurt or not.
                     "Um, yes, I do.  Look, honey, do you really know that you 
                   really want to be committed to being my slave?  Do you really
                     know that you won't get bored with it someday and want to 
                    change things?  Because I'll love you even if you're not my
                     slave, but if we're going to try to be serious about this
                     D/s thing, I do want to know it's going to work.  So yes, 
                                  I am saying I want to test you."
                      "Uh, yeah, I see your point.  But a whole year?  I mean,
                    admittedly the idea has intense fantasy potential, but ..."
                     "Dear, it would also please me and excite me to know that
                      I had you locked up."  She gave me that sly smile that 
                      always sets butterflies swarming in my stomach.  I think
                       she knows it has that effect on me.  "I'd enjoy," she
                     drew out the word 'enjoy' deliciously, "I'd enjoy knowing
                      just how frustrated you were getting.  I'd love knowing
                     all the time, even when we're apart, that you're my slave
                     and that you're suffering for me."  She was getting turned
                      on talking about it, and, well, seeing her get turned on
                                         does things to me.
                     "What if I can't take it?" I asked nervously.  "And does 
                      the chastity belt really work like they say?  I mean, is
                         it really practical for wearing such a long time?"
                     "I'll have the key, honey.  If we absolutely have to take
                    it off, we can.  But I really want you to wear it the whole
                                               year."
                    We talked like that off and on for a couple weeks.  I reread
                      all my old wanking material that mentioned male chastity
                      devices.  She made sure I knew how much the idea excited
                   her.  Eventually, trembling, I agreed.  That night she locked
                        the thing on me.  It was a week after her birthday.
                    It was deliciously exciting to have her lock me up, knowing
                   that I couldn't free myself and knowing that the plan was for
                  me to wear the harness and be deprived of my manhood for twelve
                    long months.  Fear mingled with excitement, my fantasies and
                    my nervousness played tag, and with my heart all aflutter I
                    stood there and let her tuck me into the device and lock it
                                            on my body.
                    That night she played with me, and the frustration was spice
                    added to our lovemaking.  She was very gentle, stroking me 
                    here and there, and I made tender love to her with my hands
                     and my tongue.  It was frustrating not to be touched on my
                    penis, not even to be able to get hard, but it was the kind
                    of frustration that can be fun in bondage.  "This isn't so 
                     bad," I thought, "This is kind of fun.  A year is a long 
                              time, but at least I know the end date."
                     Over the next few weeks, the frustration stopped being so
                   much fun, but it wasn't too bad.  My desires, being thwarted, 
                    diminished, and that made the chastity belt easier to bear.
                      I got used to washing with it on, managing to get enough
                     soapy water to run under it to keep me clean.  I got used
                      to the way it felt under my clothes at work and slowly,
                      oh so slowly, started becoming less self-conscious about
                      it.  I got used to sitting down to pee.  And I got used
                     to seeing the chastity belt locked on me when I looked in
                                the mirror or looked down at myself.
                    I almost convinced myself that I really didn't mind pleasing
                     her without being able to take the same kind of pleasure.
                      I almost convinced myself that the feel and taste of her
                     pussy when I went down on her, or the wonderful sounds she
                    made, didn't have to result in my dick painfully trying to 
                     get hard within its prison and my mind feeling as trapped 
                            as my penis by my lack of release.  Almost.
                     After a month I was starting to feel a little crazy.  "I'm
                             not sure whether I can stand this, love."
                    "Oh, is it really that bad?  You've gone longer without sex
                                       before, haven't you?"
                             "Well yeah, but I could masturbate then."
                   "Um.  Think of it as a challenge.  See whether you can master
                           your desires.  Do it for me, honey?  Please?"
                    I gulped.  "I think I can manage a little longer, but jeez,
                                this is starting to drive me crazy!"
                    After three months, I was getting a little irritable.  I was
                     also constantly trying to think of ways I could get even a
                   little stimulation on my cock.  I was sure that the slightest
                                 touch there would trigger release.
                     "Dear, I really don't want to unlock you yet, but it's not
                    fair that you do all these wooonderful things to me and I'm
                      not doing much back.  Hmm.  How do you feel about being 
                                        fucked in the ass?"
                      Desperate for anything, I said, "Yes, please Mistress!"
                              "Honey, I want to hear you beg for it."
                          The next half hour was thoroughly embarrassing.
                    I was so incredibly turned on when she started spreading the
                     lube in my ass!  And when she started pushing the strap-on
                   against my opening, I was in heaven!  Oh rapture, oh delight!
                    As she fucked me, my pleasure built and built ... and so did
                    my desire for more, more, more.  But never release.  My cock
                   hurt, pressing against its confinement unable to become erect.
                    At the time the pain merely added to the delicious feast of
                                           sensations.  
                    Eventually she tired and stopped, grinning a grin that would
                    set fire and ice chasing each other around your soul if you
                   saw it.  And I actually howled in frustration, banging my head
                                  against the pillows and crying.
                     I eventually calmed down, managed to relax and sleep.  And
                     a month and a half later, desperate, even though I knew it
                  would leave me weeping in frustration again, I knelt before her
                   and begged her again to please fuck me in the ass.  And again
                  I flew on winds of sensation, only to come crashing down again,
                               weeping and thrashing in frustration.
                     She'd given me some new rules while I was begging, little
                     things to make our roles of Mistress and slave a bit more 
                   formal, and I'd agreed to them.  Our relationship was getting
                                       a little more intense.
                   The next time I begged her to fuck me, she refused.  She made
                    me wait a week after I got so desperate that I was ready to
                  beg.  Oh, I still got to touch her, to enjoy her cries and moans
                 of pleasure as I licked and nibbled.  And swats from her riding crop  when my own frustration and desire carried
                                           me away and I
                    got a bit too enthusiastic, bit too hard, or went too fast.

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                   Finally she asked me to wear her collar for a week.  To work.
                   I was shocked.  I was scared.  But I said yes, and she fucked
                    me in the ass.  That Monday I went into the office skittish 
                    as a kitten at the dog pound.  I got a few raised eyebrows,
                    and one or two kind comments.  The real teasing didn't start
                                           until Tuesday.
                    The time after that she locked the collar on and added a tag
                   saying "Property of...".  It's only come off when I've had to
                                       wear a tie since then.
                  "Mistress, I don't think I can take this any longer!  I'm going
                   mad, I'm so frustrated, I mean sometimes it's just so intense
                  and fantastic and exciting, but then I start to get excited and
                  I can't get hard and it gets frustrating again.  I love you and 
                   I love being dominated by you and I love feeling trapped and I
                    even love the frustration but I'm not sure I'm strong enough
                                           to take this."
                "Oh, but you don't have to be strong enough, darling.  That's what 
                  the lock is there for."  She smiled so sweetly, and caressed my
                  face so tenderly that I calmed down immediately, hanging on her
                  every word.  "I really want you to do this for me.  Do you think
                                        you can manage now?"
                   "Yes, Mistress," I said, much calmer, "I think I can.  Please 
                                  forgive me for ... my weakness."
                  "Oh, honey, I know it's not easy.  It's not supposed to be easy.
                   Knowing how hard it is for you, knowing that you're suffering
                excites me."  I swallowed and she continued.  "As a matter of fact,
                 I'm excited now, and I think I want to fuck your cute little slave
                                            ass again."
                   Things changed a little after that.  Instead of making me wait
                 until I was ready to beg for it and then making me wait some more,
                  she started fucking me in the ass more often, at her whim.  That
                meant I didn't have to beg, and in some ways it made the frustration
                   a little easier to bear, but in other ways it made it harder, 
                  because getting fucked excited me so.  I think she knew exactly
                                        what she was doing.
                  New rules ... I was her sex toy, to be used however she wanted 
                 whenever she wanted, no matter my mood or how tired I was.  Well,
                  if she'd wanted to she could have done that earlier.  Still, by
                   then it was a lot easier to get into the mood when she decided
                   she wanted me.  At first it was just another neat dimension to
                  our game.  Eventually I started feeling that I no longer had any
                  rights to my own body.  That was both scary and fantastic.  And
                                     the frustration continued.
                  In the last few months, I settled down a bit and started coming
                   to grips more with my situation.  I got better at handling the
                    frustration, better and not letting it get in the way of my
                   enjoyment of pleasures sexual and otherwise.  Perhaps knowing
                           that most of my "sentence" had passed helped.
                    The last month she removed the key from its hiding place and
                    started wearing it around her neck.  "The year's almost up,"
                     she'd say, "and it looks like you've passed my test.  Are
                   you glad?  Are you happy to know you can take being my slave,
                            so we can make our relationship permanent?"
                     Yes yes, oh yes I was glad.  And thankful for her reminder
                   that though my year of chastized hell was nearly over, it was
                    not the ending of the dominance I loved, but the marking of
                                    our knowing it would endure.
                     But oh, how I looked forward to the day when the infernal 
                   device would be removed from my manhood and I could have the 
                    orgasm I'd been waiting a year for.  How I longed to thrust
                     deep into her and feel her warm cunt gripping my shaft.  I
                   could afford to let myself think these thoughts, now that the
                    time of my release was in sight.  Every time I saw the key 
                    dangling between her breasts on its chain, I licked my lips.
                     So yes, wearing the chastity belt for a year had been much
                    harder than I'd imagined, but I'd survived it.  I'd held out
                   for a year, I'd passed her test, I'd proved to myself as well
                    that I could bear such torment.  I'd thought to beg her for
                    release, but I'd never thought to use my safeword to escape.
                    And tonight, a week after her birthday, it had been a year.
                    She led me to our bedroom, lit several candles, and tied me
                   to the bed, muttering sweet compliments to me the whole time,
                     stroking me as she would a cat.  A bowl of ice sat on the
                     bedside table, alongside a couple of neatly folded towels.
                     A glass of something clear sat on the dresser with a plate
                       resting on top of it.  She stripped, while I watched,
                        licking my lips, then straddled my face.  "Eat me."
                       When she tired of that, she sat astride my belly, idly
                       stroking my nipples.  "You made it," she said.  "It's
                                           been a year."
                                               "Yes."
                        "Do you want to continue to be my slave after this?"
                      "Yes, Mistress, I do!"  I was excited beyond belief, and
                      as much in love with her as the day she'd first proposed
                                           locking me up.
                       She smiled, that delicious slow grin, and said, "Good.
                     Because I want to keep you!  I don't want it to be a game.
                     We've been playing pretty seriously, but we've both known
                      there was a time limit.  Now I know you can handle that
                      kind of intensity for a long time.  Do you want it?  Do
                     you want to continue permanently as my slave?  This deep?"
                              "Yes, Mistress!  Anything!  I am yours!"
                    I swear she started breathing harder and sweating a little.
                    "I want this to be real.  I want you to get a tattoo saying
                    you're my slave.  And I want to get married, and I want you
                    to take my name instead of the other way around.  And I want
                    to know that I can continue to use you whenever I want, to 
                    punish you whenever I want, even to lock you up when I want,
                                           from now on."
                    My heart raced.  I was frightened to make such a commitment
                     with no time limit, but I'd already found that I could not
                    only handle being dominated full time but even enjoy it even
                     as I suffered.  "Yes, Mistress.  I consent.  I want that 
                                               too."
                         "Do you want it enough to give up your safeword?"
                                "Yesss!  I am _all_ yours, my love!"
                  She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me passionately,
                     rocking her hips, scooting back so she was rubbing herself
                     against the edge of my chastity belt.  "Oh God, how I love
                      you.  And you're Mine!"  She reached back and stroked my
                     thighs, then leaned forward to lick my nipples, the key on
                     its chain brushing against my chest.  I panted, I moaned,
                                   I called out my love for her.
                   Finally she stopped, picked up the key, and said, "Well, it's
                                    time to deal with this, no?"
                                     I looked at her hungrily.
                    She removed the chain from around her neck.  She removed the
                     key from the chain.  She went to the glass of clear liquid
                     on the dresser and uncovered it.  "A toast," she said, "to
                      your showing me you could pass my test!"  She lifted the
                                        glass, and the key.
                    And she dropped the key into the glass, where it fizzed and
                                    foamed and slowly dissolved.
                   My heart fell.  Actually, I think it stopped.  She watched my
                            face, grinning, as I lay there disbelieving.
                   "I have a soldering iron in the bedside table," she said very
                   quietly.  "I'm going to fill the keyhole with solder.  You're
                                      mine forever, my love."
                                                -- 
                                                  
                                                   
                                                  
                                                  
 

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