Week two of #Locktober and never have I received so many complaints of blue-balls. Needless to say, all I did was laugh and remind them that complaining won’t get them anywhere. With that said, a little frustration can go a long way when channeling your resentment into creativity.
For week two I held a little competition amongst my chastity slaves and while I was out having fun, they were all busy at home, locked up and serving me with their words and dedication.This week’s task had multiple options but all with the same goal - to entertain me.
The choice of tasks included:
- An erotic story about a fantasy or experienced chastity scene
- Confession of your biggest chastity secret
- An essay about your gratitude for me as your keyholder
- An application to be released from chastity including a list of reasons you believe you deserve it.
Sensibly, none of them opted for the application option, perhaps they know me better than to assume it would actually result in any real freedom!
Before beginning their tasks, I ordered them to do a full device removal, cleaning session and inspection, reporting back to me with any unintended injuries (chafing, bruising, pinching etc.). I directed them to my chastity hygiene guide, which I strongly recommend you also take a look at. Just in case their time unlocked has resulted in any unwanted genital arousal (absolutely no stimulating touch permitted of course), I instructed them all to apply ice to their genitals to remind them of their place and allow devices to be firmly re-attached without issue. I’m very pleased to hear that one of my slaves has now upgraded from the Holy Trainer to the Steel JTS S207 and I very much look forward to monitoring the progress of such a wonderfully selected new cage.
All but one of my slaves participated in this week’s task (Tim has another 3 hours and 16 minutes of standing in the corner of his room as I write this). I was so pleased by the writing of one slave in particular that I hope you too can enjoy their erotica. This story was written by the very well behaved @ChastitynChains who you can share your appreciation with on twitter or with us in the comments section below.
ECSTASY & DENIAL
Part 1
I pace back and forth between the shop and the few metres to the corner of Shelton Street and Endell Street in London’s Covent Garden area. The letters above the shop in Gold on a black background doing their best to entice me to enter. My nervous flutters so far prevent me from entering. I pace some more, back and forth, I am sure if I continue much more someone will think it suspicious.
This is ridiculous, so with the few metres to the shop from the corner covered for at least the tenth time, I turn to face the shop and finally push open the door and enter.
“Hi, finally made it through the door. Welcome, please wander around, if you need any help please just ask.”
The woman behind the counter is friendly and welcoming, and observant, my nonchalant wanderings back and forth clearly having not gone unnoticed. I smile in acknowledgement, my face flushing with embarrassment at having been noticed. I had looked the store up online so I knew where to find it and what I was coming in for, now I feel too embarrassed to ask, so I took to browsing the latex clothing and other kinky items on display. Using this as a distraction whilst I once again build my confidence to ask for what I really want.
After ten minutes of wandering around looking at various items she approaches me once more and asks what it is I really came in for. I will say one thing for her, she can read people well. She observes that I have been looking at the latex dresses on show and asks if I would like to try one on. Finally put on the spot I thank her, but it is not what I came in for. She teases it out of me and I blurt out that it was a particular latex leotard that they stocked.
She takes me further back into the store and pulls one of the type I am looking for from one of the racks. She explains that they only have a few examples in store as there are multiple options for that particular style and asks if I would like to try one on. A quick visual assessment and she pulls another off the rack, hands it to me and points towards a changing room. I am now committed to trying this on it seems, has she picked up on my submissive side and is now ordering me to the changing room. Either way I take the item from her and head in the direction indicated.
“Don’t forget to use plenty of talc, there’s a supply in the room.” She calls after me.
I close the curtain and strip to my underwear, using the talc I spread a generous amount over my torso and begin to pull the garment up over my legs taking as much care as I can not to poke my fingers through it. After a few minutes of pulling and twisting, the garment finally makes its way slowly up my body until I am encased within it.
It is a glorious feeling, like wearing a second skin, tight, smooth and shiny. This particular leotard is a feminine form but fitted for the male body, it has space for boobs as well as male genitalia. I plan on wearing it with some breast forms, a skirt and high heels to a Secret Desires event that I have a ticket to.
The woman returns to the changing room to ask how I am getting on. Opening the curtain I reveal to the world, or the shop at least, my new latex coated body. It may only be myself, the woman and the shop floor but it felt like a coming out. She looks at me with a critical eye, assessing my every curve. Writing in a small notebook she takes note of various adjustments that would be needed and asks several questions of me such as where I want the zip, front or back; arm length, long, short, none. Do I want a hood, what colour do I want it, even what cup size? It is a barrage of questions but having come this far and now that I am standing here wearing something similar to what I want, I at least manage to stumble through giving her answers. A few minutes later she has taken all the measurements she requires and all the answers to her questions are written down. She guides me to the till still wearing the leotard after having told me to pick up my wallet. I hesitate, thinking I should get changed first but she smiles and says to wear it for a few minutes more whilst I pay. That way I will enjoy the thrill of waiting for my own leotard to arrive having spent a short while already wearing one.
Ten minutes later and I am back on the street where this all began, this time feeling a little naked, the tight second skin no longer coating my body, despite being fully clothed like anyone else passing by. She was right about one thing however, keeping it on that little longer certainly makes me excited for the day when my own suit turns up.
Part 2
Two weeks later and I received the package containing my leotard, the skirt had arrived a few days earlier and I already had the shoes I was planning on wearing. The event was tonight so now it was a case of putting it all together.
The leotard was a metallic red with a front zipper that went from all the way back between the legs right up to the neck. The skirt consisted of strips of a heavier material with mesh panels between that hung from the waist, this would mean that my bare legs would be visible at times. The shoes were a one-inch platform with six-inch heels in a bright patent red. To go with this, I had a head piece that came down over the forehead but had two curving and spiralling horns about twelve inches long. It took a little time to put it all on but once I had done my makeup, I did not look anything like I had before.
The cab I had ordered earlier duly turned up and the driver was a little surprised by the vision that confronted him, even more so when a male voice confirmed I was his fare and the destination address. I guess the feminine form that I hoped to pull off, at least from a distance, had been successful. He was a little dubious as to my destination, it being in the middle of the old warehouse district in what was once London’s docklands area, as all I had was a postcode. Even so, he set off and ultimately arrived at the street the postcode indicated. I had had to explain that this was all part of this particular event's methodology apparently. You turned up at a secret location and would find what you were looking for – in this case a brightly lit entrance with the logo printed on the invitation above it.
Entering past the security on the door, a short corridor led to a main area. A dance floor took up a good proportion with a stage towards one end. Two bars were set up either side serving drinks and further corridors led off from this main room. Presumably to other parts of the venue, first however, some Dutch courage was needed. One might ask why, if I could walk in the room dressed as I was then why did I still feel nervous? Well, to dress as I was, leave my home to walk a short distance to a cab, at night meant the likelihood of bumping into another person was low. Ok I still had the driver of the cab but that was just one person, here in the room in which I now stood there were hundreds of people, all with the potential to look at me, engage with. Why do it? To try and push myself outside of my comfort zone, it was all getting too boring and I wanted to push hard, so here I was.
One drink later and I ordered another, I had paid for the VIP package which meant it came with drinks included just by waving a wristband that had come with the invitation. Working my way to the edge of the dance floor I managed to find a seat with a small table but still with a view of the stage. There was an act, if you could call it that, performing some form of suspension bondage. The rigger was expertly tying rope to and around a naked girl in such a way that not only was she fully secured and unable to move of her own accord but also fully supported off the ground. The use of the rope was quite an artform in itself, not just being tied around her body but done in such a way as it was decorative too. It was quite entrancing to watch and I found myself wondering what it would be like to be the girl, tied and suspended like that.
The next act was not so much to my liking, involving the use of needles under what I believe to be known as Medical Fetish: needle play. Rather than stay and watch I decided to explore further into the club and perhaps come back later to the main area and see what other acts might be performing.
Wandering down one of the corridors off the main area I found there to be various rooms with a large window to the corridor through which one could see how the room was set out. Varying different themes presented themselves, medieval castle bedroom with large four poster bed resplendent in lush drapery and dark wood panelling. Medieval dungeon of course, with all the dank dark and murky look with cages, whips, floggers and restraints of many forms to restrain and punish any unlucky soul willing enough to enter. Some of the windows had curtains across preventing viewing within, the door lock either showing a green or red indicator. One of the instructions that came with the invitation had been a description of this system. Red meant no entry at all. Green allowed entry even if the curtain was closed, the participants inside wanting some privacy but were open to allowing others to join should they be so curious as to enter.
One such room presented itself to me, a closed curtain but a green indicator. As the curtain provided some privacy, I decided to take a chance and see what may lie behind that door. Opening it as quietly and carefully as I could I slipped inside. There was not much light, a thin line of light high up ran all the way round the room giving definition to the size of the space but not providing much illumination, my eyes being used to the brighter light of the corridor. My heels clicked on what felt like a very solid floor and the wall to my left felt a little cool. The door lock clicked shut behind me and I noticed its indicator had turned red as a voice in the darkness spoke.
“Come in, join me.”
The voice was seductive and enticing.
“I would, but I can’t see you.”
A light at a table to one side faded up to reveal a woman with long red hair and intoxicating green eyes that drew me in. She wore a full black latex catsuit that hugged every curve, knee high boots with a high heel and long legs that seemed to go on forever.
“Help yourself to a drink and pour me the same.”
I saw several liquors arranged on the table beside her along with clean glasses. My first thought was, here I was locked in a room with a strange woman offering me a drink, what if she drugs me. But then I was being paranoid and she was asking for the same drink that I would pour. What was I really afraid of? That something awful might happen? I was here for a good time not to worry about how things might go wrong. Selecting one of the bottles I poured two glasses, offered her one and sat down opposite her, she took a swig from it and my mind was set at ease.
“So, what are you here for?”
“I don’t really know. I wanted to push myself out of my comfort zone. Try something completely different.”
“I see. So, what have you tried so far?”
“I haven’t tried anything yet. I am more of an observer.”
“So what have you observed, have you seen anything you like? Anything you would like to try?” “I ...er ...”
I stumble over what to say, have I seen anything that I like? Would I like to try something? I feel my face flush as I seem unable to form words to answer her question. I don’t know why I am blushing either, the light in here is so dim I doubt she could see my embarrassment and the curtain is closed and further entry to the room is not permitted by the locking system.
“Let me ask you this. The act that was on the stage as you left the main area to explore back here, did you enjoy it?”
“No, not really, it wasn’t my thing, it involved needle play.” “Ah yes, how about the performance before that?”
“Yes, that was interesting.”
“What was it that you found interesting about it?”
I go on to explain how I found it interesting how the rope was not just used and tied in order to suspend the model but that it was done in a decorative way. Each rope, knot and wrap placed and positioned to provide an artful pattern whilst at the same time able to provide support and restraint. Her eyes never leave mine, except when I break eye contact with her. The intensity with which she looks at me seems to bare right into my soul, the green of her eyes transfixes me once again. Each time I look away, to think of what to say next, when I look back, she once again connects.
“In whose position would you like to have been?”
The question stuns me into temporary silence, I swallow not wanting to admit to what I felt earlier.
“There is no shame here. No right or wrong answer. Do not be afraid of judgement, what happens tonight is for you, no one else. Your silence also tells me what I need to know. Come.”
Her last word has a tone of authority about it. She stands and holds her hand out to me. I take it and she leads me to the centre of the room.
“Strip,” she commands.
I stand there aghast at what she is asking. She repeats the command and my submissive side starts to kick in and I start to remove my skirt, this is followed by my shoes. I then peel myself out of my leotard placing the breast forms that I have used to fill out the breast carefully to one side. I stand there naked in front of her.
She walks around me, her eyes examining my body, peering into my very soul with those mesmerising green eyes. She commands me to stand still, not turn around and continue to face the way I am. I comply but am wary of what she might do, I feel so exposed. But of course I am, standing here naked, in a locked room with a stranger you only met what, twenty minutes ago. I don’t even know her name, why did I not ask her name, isn’t that what you do when you first meet someone? Apparently not if you’re me and mesmerised by those green eyes. Damn it! There I go again with her eyes.
I feel a finger or two gently run up from the centre of my back across my right shoulder and up my arm to my wrist.
“Do you trust me?”
“I don’t...” I falter in my reply, unsure whether to say yes or no. “Do you trust me?” she repeats.
“Yes” I decide, hell I’m naked in front of her why not just say yes and see where this is going. My heart is starting to beat faster at what may be. Is my cock starting to respond, her touch is soft and gentle and it has been a while since anyone has touched me in a sensual way. I feel her hands at my wrist then feel the wrap of a soft rope around my wrist. I go to look at what she is doing but she notices my head move.
“Stay looking forward.” She commands.
I do as she says. I feel a pull on my wrist as it is pulled upwards until my arm is out to my side and above my shoulder. A moment later and I feel her touch to my back once again, this time her fingers trace their way up to my left wrist. Once again my wrist is bound and drawn upwards to be tied to something. I am starting to find this arousing, my cock has started its gradual rise, this was, after all, something I wanted to try, was it not. You watched the girl on the stage be tied and wondered what it would be like to be her, well now you're about to find out.
Fingers once again touch my back but this time they trace their way over my right buttock and down to my ankle. My cock really is standing up now. Rope now wraps around my ankle which is then pulled outwards. Another touch to my leg but this time the fingers work their way up my leg before crossing my back then down over my left buttock and down to my left ankle. More rope is used to bind and secure my left ankle, this too is pulled outwards splaying my legs wide. It is not uncomfortable but does leave me feeling exposed.
“Shuffle backwards,” she commands.
I do as she asks until she tells me to stop. Suddenly I feel my arms being stretched as they are somehow winched into the air. My ankles follow suit until my bare feet are suddenly picked up by smooth metal. I realise that she has attached me to a large metal ring larger in diameter than my height. I am reminded of Vitruvian Man by Leonardo da Vinci with me as its subject. The ring continues to rise until I am floating a good foot off the ground. I cannot move from the ring but I can at least reach the ring to ease the pressure on my shoulders and hold myself in place if I do not want the bindings at my wrists to take the weight.
“Now I have you where I want you, let’s have a little fun.”
I hear what sounds like a drawer open and close and then she re-appears in front of me. In her hand she holds a long black flogger with multiple strands falling from the handle. She drapes it over my now erect cock and drags it back and forth. The stimulation is electrifying, my cock bouncing as the blood pumps through it. She drags it up my chest, teasing me with it as she goes.
“Let’s see what you feel about this shall we?” She teases me further, slowly drawing a finger along the underside of my cock. It bounces with the stimulation, is that precum on its tip? My heart is certainly pumping, the excitement within me rising as she walks round behind me.
A sting of mild pain as the flogger makes it mark across my arse. Another strike and another sting of pain this time from the other direction. As the pain subsides, I realise that it is not actually bad, in fact my cock is responding opposite to what I expect. It is still erect and craving for more.
“I see we like it,” she purrs.
Damn it! Those eyes and now that voice, she has me.
Pain erupts from my back quickly followed by a second stroke in the opposite direction. I cry out more in surprise than in reaction to the pain itself. She begins a series of strokes that alternate between my buttocks and my back. My breathing increases in response, enjoying the moment.
She appears in front of me. Those piercing green eyes once again meet my own and she reads from my mind what I do not even say. ‘Yes, I am enjoying this, please continue.’ She draws the flogger back and swipes at my nipple. The pain here is more intense than it was at my buttocks and I grit my teeth to hold in the yelp my voice wants to emit. The second strike, of course, lands on the other nipple. A deep intake of breath as I try to control my senses. Still my cock remains erect, its tip wet with precum. I would never have thought until now that I would have enjoyed pain in such a sexual manner.
She has once again moved behind me, strokes of the flogger now flicker once again over my back and buttocks. Nervous responses are triggered each time it lands on its target, a natural response to the impact but also pleasurable in its context. The pain is now starting to feel like heat as my body tries to respond to what is happening to it.
A flash of pain erupts from my balls bringing me out of my reverie. A yelp escapes from my mouth as I realise just what she has done. The strokes to my back continue but begin to move around my side to the front. Despite the strike to my balls my cock remains erect. What is this sorcery? Surely a strike like that would see me running for the hills, cock well and truly hiding and well protected. Yet here it was, loud and proud, announcing “Give me more!”
She once again looked me in the eye, all the while swinging the flogger about. Strikes landing with skill across my chest, nipples and cock.
Moments later and my senses felt no more strikes. My cock however was another thing. Gentle strokes were being applied along its length. Drawing me ever closer to orgasm. The strokes increased in their speed and pressure. Variation in the speed and techniques applied brought me right to the edge. She knew what she was doing. It was almost as if she was in my head. Just as I was about to cum she would slow the strokes right down or stop altogether. Moving her hands down from my shaft to massage my balls, my cock screaming for more attention every time she did.
I have no idea how long this went on for. It seemed like it went on forever. She took me to the edge and back again numerous times. I was starting to wonder if she would ever let me orgasm. It must have been ten, eleven times. I have no idea how many times she took me to the edge and back. It was glorious every time she did. As her rate increased once more, I vowed to myself that this would be it, that this time I would cum. How I can make this vow I have no idea given that I was in no way in control of whether I would or would not cum. This time however, it was to be. Her strokes did not stop or slow down, my cock responding in kind, swelling and jerking as its release was finally granted.
“Did you enjoy that?” she asks.
I hang limp in my bonds. Pleasure pouring out of my pores as she circles me like a predator that caught its prey. I am sweating with the exertion of what I have been through. She disappears behind me and once again I hear a soft noise of a drawer opening and closing. Reappearing in front of me, she holds a bowl of ice. She offers me one to suck on, liquid to help me rehydrate and cool down. My cock is still erect, enjoying its grateful release. It is not to stay that way however as she brings the bowl of ice and cold water up to my groin. Initially my cock fights for its right to stay erect but it is a battle it will not win; I look at her with the look of “Why? Why have you done that?”
Despite not even voicing the question she answers:
“So we may play again.”
My cock has lost, shrunk back down by the cold. It hangs flaccid between my splayed legs.
She has moved the bowl away and is once again behind me. A drawer once again opens and closes. It is only my ears that sense anything. I hang exhausted from the experience I have had; it was painful but in a pleasurable way, something I had never thought possible.
I feel something cool, hard and metallic slip round my waist. A hand deftly repositions my cock and balls as I feel them slip into two encompassing channels. A click and small beep later and I no longer feel the hand on my cock. I open my eyes to look down at what has happened to my cock. Around my waist is a bright steel belt, it extends down over my cock and between my buttock and presumably back to my waist, I can feel something running between my buttocks.
“What is this?” I demand of her.
She looks back at me with those gorgeous green eyes framed by that glorious red hair that falls down over her shoulders.
“A chastity belt of course.” “What?! A what?”
“A chastity belt. I don’t want you to play with yourself. I said so WE may play again.” She exaggerates the we just to make it clear that she means the two of us, and only the two of us. She steps from my vision and I hear her tapping on something. A moment later my body jerks as a shock is exerted to my captive cock.
“What was that?” I half shout, the pain still receding as I come down from the shock.
“Oh, just one aspect of this belt. It is able to shock you as well as pleasure you, all at the whim of my pleasure. Oh, and it’s controlled by wi-fi so I don’t have to be near you to control you.”
“Let me down and take this off me now!”
I repeat my demand but hear nothing. Is she still with me? She hasn’t surely just left me hanging from this ring, locked in a chastity belt?
The ring from which I am suspended starts to descend to the floor, my feet touching the cool surface of the floor. I am still tied to the ring; I may be standing on the floor but I am still restrained and apparently alone. I pull at the bonds that hold me. My legs and ankles are still tied to the ring but my left hand comes free. When did she undo that? How long have I been able to move? I gingerly move my arm around, getting some movement back into it from being restrained as it was. I am still held for the most part by the ring. With movement back in my left arm I reach across to my right and slowly manage to untie it. Standing with my legs still splayed I stretch out my arms to get movement back into them before bending over to do the same in freeing my legs.
Once free of the ring and able to move I step towards the table we were sitting at earlier. I take a seat just to get my head back into some kind of order. The room was empty except for myself and the furniture I was sitting on. My eyes, now having adjusted to the lighting, could now see it was a very modern looking room like one of those commonly seen in sci-fi movies. All clean lines and straight edges. I could not even see where the drawers I had heard open and close were. At least I presumed they were drawers. I examined the belt now wrapped snugly round my waist and completely encasing my cock and balls. It did not even appear to have a keyhole to unlock it, there was only a small screen on the front plate. This simply had a small closed padlock symbol on it, presumably indicating it was locked. Well, obviously it was locked. I had been unable to remove it thus far.
What was I to do now? My clothes were all neatly stacked and folded on the table along with my shoes. Clearly the intent was for me to get dressed and leave. I should report this to someone, go to the police, make a statement. But then what would I say, “I was at a club, got tied up, naked, to a ring, flogged into pleasure and orgasm then locked into a chastity belt.” First thing they would want to see is the belt, just the humiliation of doing that...
I picked up the latex leotard I had been wearing when I entered the room and began to put it back on. Hoping as I pulled it up that it would have enough stretch in it to go over the belt. A few minutes later and I had succeeded in getting it back on, not so easy now that I didn’t have access to any talc and had to get it over the belt. I sat and put my heels back on before picking up my skirt. Looking at the table as I did so, I noticed a small card similar to a business card with the logo of the club on it. I turned it over to find it was an invite to the next event. Great, I have an invite but it’s not like they are every weekend, I would have to simply use the link given on the card to confirm and then wait to be emailed the date and location. I could be stuck in this belt for weeks. No masturbating, no orgasm, nothing!
The note attached to the card simply said: “Now you are mine. . .”
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