Chastity Hell - Part 1
Posted: 02 Sep 2014, 08:30
It has been about six weeks that i've been in the hipster. A time full of ups and downs.
Master has taken His opportunities allright. He has come behind me when i've been doing the washing up and hugged my waist; His head over my shoulder so that i can feel His hot breath on my neck until i start panting with desire. Then once He senses my frustration levels rise, He moves His hand between my legs and pats my steel covered mound.
That smile; that god damned smile cracks His face in two. You heard about the cat that got the cream? Well, this damn lion has got the whole fucking dairy, and He knows it. Gah!
Patting the stainless, He puts pressure on the pelvic bone, sending vibrations through my skeleton that turn up my heat; and then He just leaves me to groan and moan my frustrations in to the soap bubbles! The bastard!
On two occasions the frustration has been so high that i've just sunk to the floor and had a little weep to myself. Oh, how sweetness can be so sour. Oh, the pleasurable agony!
He has been doing this throughout. And now, tonight, i come home from work knowing that both He and i have engineered a week off together.
Master gives me the chance to settle down, make a cup of tea and shrug off the shackles of the daily grind before ordering me to the bathroom where i am to undress and leave my clothes on the chair, in the usual neat pile.
To most people, the neat little plant in its basket, hanging from the ceiling, off to one side is a pleasant sight. It goes neatly with the small bamboo drawers in our light, slightly off-white tilled bath room.
Few would suspect that the attachment from which it hangs, has actually been tested to take a twenty stone dead weight.
Master comes in to the room and drinks in the sight of me for a few moments, naked except for the belt. He opens the lowest drawer in the rack and, from beneath the carefully placed hand towels, brings forth some steel cuffs and some chain.
The cuffs work on a small rod system; it only takes something like a paper clip to open them, but you don't come across many paper clips in a bathroom, so He knows that i'm not getting out of them on my own. With practised ease, he removes the hanging plant and puts it in the bath.
i am gestured to stand beneath the eyelet and He deftly snaps my wrists in to the cuffs, uses their linking mechanism to bring them together and then in to one end of the chain. Then, with the snap already on its link, within a blink of an eye, my hands are secured, above my head, to the ceiling.
i already know that no matter how hard i pull, i am not getting free.
The little slack in the chain is taken up as Master orders me to part my legs. The drawers are moved, as is the laundry basket, to reveal more eyelets in the skirting board; similarly tested for strain. A few more movements and my ankles are secured against them.
i am stood there, legs akimbo, totally exposed.
Master trots off to His little office and i hear the beep, beep of the safe. i imagine trying to put up a series of mirrors, or perhaps a little spy cam, to find out the combination; but the risk of doing so would be so massive that it doesn't bear thinking about. But that is what being belted does to me. It fuels a little rebellion; a bit of fight that ultimately can never win. All the odds are stacked against me.
He comes back, keys in one hand and a waist belt in the other. He likes the waist belt because it has more visual impact; and the sight of me, held fast in the grip of unforgiving metal is a real turn on for Him.
As He approaches me slowly with the keys, my hips involuntarily extend towards Him so that His work in freeing me from my prison could come all the sooner. i start panting and moaning a little. He is loving this and is deliberately taking His time. That damn smile!
"Master! Please!" i beg.
"Now, now, little one. Patience!"
It is like time goes in to slow-mo as the key enters the lock and turns. As i feel the spring release, something goes "twang" inside me as i hear the lock spring open and i moan again.
Master removes the belt slowly, taking time over the ritual of peeling it off and checking my skin for sores. He then discards the hipster and gets a bowl of water and a razor. my hairy mound is treated to a warm, soapy bath as He washes me down.
"You know the drill. If you dare to cum while i'm doing this, the punishment will be grave."
The cool, wonderful feel of the water and the gentle swish of the razor as i am bathed and cleaned is sending me in to spasms of delight, but i have to hold them. Thoughts deliberately push to dinner, birthday lists, ANYTHING other than this most personal of things happening to me right now.
i can't help but moan hard and low as the warm, soapy flannel cleans me front and back, followed eventually by the hand towel, drying me off in preparation for what is to come next. Master reaches over and picks up the waist belt.
"Master?!" i plead, but He doesn't stop. The waist belt goes around me and i feel the cold silicone against my skin. He knows that this hasn't been worn for a while, so He takes it gently. He brings the two ends of the belt together in their block, just below my belly button, and holds them there with one hand, while he uses the other to reach between my legs.
He takes hold of the front guard and brings it out towards Him. i feel the wire as it is drawn beneath my cheeks; my half hearted attempt to clench and stop it, overridden by the other half of my own desire to welcome its embrace.
His fingers gently place the guard against my body as i continue to moan long and hard, while the guard is positioned and the top hole of the guard is brought to its resting place in the front block, along with the other two sections of the belt.
He holds the mechanism securely with one hand, while He uses the fingers of His other hand to make sure my skin is correctly placed beneath the shield. Oh, how his touch there is sending flames across my nervous system; all i can do is stand there and moan and groan. i wished that, just for once, He would somehow slip and send His finger deep inside me; but that would have to be one hell of an accident! Oh, what torment this is! Please! Master! Take me now!!!
The plate is deftly brought home to cover all the joints and the post installed. He has done this so often now that He has this down pat. It is as if He enjoys locking me up! Oh, if he was a prison warder i would feel so deeply sorry for the prisoners under His charge. He would put so much effort in to making them feel so miserable!
Finally, the shank of the padlock is placed through the post and at the sound of the, "click," i stifle a small scream. He senses this and pats my secured mound once more.
"There you go, my dear, all fresh and locked away!"
A feeble, "Master!" is all i can manage; the heat inside me going in to over drive. my hips writhing and my eyes betraying my longing, my lust for His hot shaft inside me.
"Please, i beg of You; give me release!"
"Not now; you must earn your little pleasures."
He takes the keys away and puts them back in the safe. However, he returns with the steel bra and an already opened padlock.
"Now that you're safely under lock and key again, let's have your hands loose so I can put this on."
He releases my hands from the ceiling. i want to slap Him, i really do. At the same time i want to grab His hot body and jump His bones. i want to spend this whole week shagging Him senseless ... but i can't. Oh hell!
i gently offer my shaking arms forward, barely able to keep my spine straight as one section of the bra is put over one arm and taken around my back. It is but a swift movement before i feel the silicone against my shoulder blades and under my arm pits; i offer my remaining arm to feed through the empty strap, and the cups are then brought to the front.
i can do nothing but leave my arms hang limply at my sides, exhausted from the frustration, unable to do anything while the cups are fitted over my breasts and the pieces brought together in the middle.
i am now feeling nothing more than resignation as the routine of the post and lock is performed and the, "click," signals that all my primary sexual organs are back at His command.
All that is my most personal, natural, human raw ... is His.
He undoes my ankles and returns the cuffs and chain to their resting place in the lower drawer. i fall to my knees and grab Him around His waist. Knowing the torment He has placed in my soul, He takes no objection to this.
"Please, Master, i beg of you!"
"No, little one. Maybe, sometime this coming week, if your efforts to please me are sufficient, then i may allow you some release ... or then again, maybe not!"
He kneels down and wraps one arm around me, brings His body against mine and His head closes in on me slowly. His lips eventually meet mine and He kisses me long, deeply and lovingly. He leaves me breathless as His other arm completes the enveloping of my body as i start to shake and quiver a little, such is the strength of the frustration and longing.
Oh, i am so His. Utterly and completely His.
After an eternity, He pulls away and leaves me limp and completely submissive to His wishes.
"Now, get that hipster clean, put it away and get started on dinner. I'm hungry after all this work i've had to do maintaining you. Chop chop!"
He gets up and strides out the door, leaving my aching mound screaming blue, bloody murder. i bang my fist against the shield and paw at it to no avail. i whimper and whine until finally i give in and return my mind to its duties. If i am to get any chance at release and pleasure, i have to serve Him with all my heart.
i would gladly do it anyway; spend all my waking life at His feet ... but this way is so much sweeter.
Bastard!
You may think me an ungrateful bitch for calling my Master by that name, and if He but knew it, then He would spank my arse so hard that i wouldn't be able to sit down this side of the next eclipse. However, you would be wrong. He knows how i feel. In fact, He is actively nurturing this insane little ball of hatred and frustration that is in my soul. To any sadist, seeing this long running torment is like some form of life blood and it is my emotional agony that gives Master a sweet, evil smile not only in His face but in His heart as well; and you know me, i want nothing more than to give my Master pleasure, even if it does require me to ache and writhe against these portable steel prisons. Indeed, it is hard work for Him as He can't just turn off to it; because if He did then the belt would simply become another pair of knickers and i would stop thinking about it. This is why He has to continue the mental and physical torment, to keep the fire of desire and lust raging within me; specifically so that the cold, hard steel can deny me.
i pick up the hipster and hold it over the bath, scrubbing it gently with liquid soap and hot water. It nearly burns my hands doing this, but I know that if i don't do it right then it will be me that suffers in the long run. What is it that they say? "Cleanliness becomes more important when godliness is unlikely." or something. Well, i can tell you that there is no chance of anything approaching godliness in this house! Especially when i'm my own little personal hell on legs.
When finished, i potter in to the office and take a glance at the wall safe. My keys are inside that bloody thing. i could swear that the number pad is smiling at me. Mocking me as if it was in some sort of metal brotherhood with these damn belts.
i put the hipster in its drawer. The belts have their own drawer in the filing cabinet. If the tax man came calling and looking for paperwork then he'd be in for one hell of a shock. It would completely redefine his definition of, "securing the bottom line," or, "bottom fisher." Come to think of it, "precious metals," would be worth thinking about.
i catch myself. This is getting me nowhere. Master is hungry and i've got food to cook. Got to think fast. Last time i felt this rebellious i cooked him, "toad in the hole," and that definitely earned me a spanking ... after He had eaten it of course. The fact that he thoroughly enjoyed the change of culinary pace was neither here nor there; i got a thorough hiding for that one.
It doesn't take more than a moment for inspiration to hit. We had some chicken the other night and the left overs were still in the fridge. Two cans of chicken soup in the pan, pieces of real chicken, a few mushrooms sliced and accompanied by some fresh bread with some spread. i do a chunk of these sorts of things for speed. Another little secret is to put some brown sauce in with baked beans to give them a little lift. However, Master loved the warm soup and that was another job well done with minimum fuss. Those are all the little tricks learned over the years.
With the meal done and the dishes washed and put away again, we had a few hours in front of the television. i was lain down on the sofa with my head in His lap with His fingers in my hair, caressing my head. i feel wanted; cherished ... loved. It seems like an eternity but yet a moment that was over too soon when the order comes to go to bed.
Fortunately for me, it is a warm night. On the cold evenings He sends me to bed ahead of Him so that i can warm His side of the bed! There are three rings in the bottom of the bed, one at the corners and one at the centre so that Master can splay my legs while still occupying only half of the bed. There are other rings just above the centre of each pillow so that my wrists can easily be secured there without risking my intruding on His side; whichever side He deems His that evening.
And so it is. i am ordered to strip down to the belt, put in metal ankle and wrist cuffs and then secured to the half of the bed nearest the door. He gets the window which is open a chink for the fresh air. He lays the light, summer duvet over me and slips in beside me, coming in close and leaning on one elbow. His presence is strong, like a lion standing over its helpless prey. His free hand slips under the cover, over to my body and gently but powerfully, plays on my skin.
Master has taken His opportunities allright. He has come behind me when i've been doing the washing up and hugged my waist; His head over my shoulder so that i can feel His hot breath on my neck until i start panting with desire. Then once He senses my frustration levels rise, He moves His hand between my legs and pats my steel covered mound.
That smile; that god damned smile cracks His face in two. You heard about the cat that got the cream? Well, this damn lion has got the whole fucking dairy, and He knows it. Gah!
Patting the stainless, He puts pressure on the pelvic bone, sending vibrations through my skeleton that turn up my heat; and then He just leaves me to groan and moan my frustrations in to the soap bubbles! The bastard!
On two occasions the frustration has been so high that i've just sunk to the floor and had a little weep to myself. Oh, how sweetness can be so sour. Oh, the pleasurable agony!
He has been doing this throughout. And now, tonight, i come home from work knowing that both He and i have engineered a week off together.
Master gives me the chance to settle down, make a cup of tea and shrug off the shackles of the daily grind before ordering me to the bathroom where i am to undress and leave my clothes on the chair, in the usual neat pile.
To most people, the neat little plant in its basket, hanging from the ceiling, off to one side is a pleasant sight. It goes neatly with the small bamboo drawers in our light, slightly off-white tilled bath room.
Few would suspect that the attachment from which it hangs, has actually been tested to take a twenty stone dead weight.
Master comes in to the room and drinks in the sight of me for a few moments, naked except for the belt. He opens the lowest drawer in the rack and, from beneath the carefully placed hand towels, brings forth some steel cuffs and some chain.
The cuffs work on a small rod system; it only takes something like a paper clip to open them, but you don't come across many paper clips in a bathroom, so He knows that i'm not getting out of them on my own. With practised ease, he removes the hanging plant and puts it in the bath.
i am gestured to stand beneath the eyelet and He deftly snaps my wrists in to the cuffs, uses their linking mechanism to bring them together and then in to one end of the chain. Then, with the snap already on its link, within a blink of an eye, my hands are secured, above my head, to the ceiling.
i already know that no matter how hard i pull, i am not getting free.
The little slack in the chain is taken up as Master orders me to part my legs. The drawers are moved, as is the laundry basket, to reveal more eyelets in the skirting board; similarly tested for strain. A few more movements and my ankles are secured against them.
i am stood there, legs akimbo, totally exposed.
Master trots off to His little office and i hear the beep, beep of the safe. i imagine trying to put up a series of mirrors, or perhaps a little spy cam, to find out the combination; but the risk of doing so would be so massive that it doesn't bear thinking about. But that is what being belted does to me. It fuels a little rebellion; a bit of fight that ultimately can never win. All the odds are stacked against me.
He comes back, keys in one hand and a waist belt in the other. He likes the waist belt because it has more visual impact; and the sight of me, held fast in the grip of unforgiving metal is a real turn on for Him.
As He approaches me slowly with the keys, my hips involuntarily extend towards Him so that His work in freeing me from my prison could come all the sooner. i start panting and moaning a little. He is loving this and is deliberately taking His time. That damn smile!
"Master! Please!" i beg.
"Now, now, little one. Patience!"
It is like time goes in to slow-mo as the key enters the lock and turns. As i feel the spring release, something goes "twang" inside me as i hear the lock spring open and i moan again.
Master removes the belt slowly, taking time over the ritual of peeling it off and checking my skin for sores. He then discards the hipster and gets a bowl of water and a razor. my hairy mound is treated to a warm, soapy bath as He washes me down.
"You know the drill. If you dare to cum while i'm doing this, the punishment will be grave."
The cool, wonderful feel of the water and the gentle swish of the razor as i am bathed and cleaned is sending me in to spasms of delight, but i have to hold them. Thoughts deliberately push to dinner, birthday lists, ANYTHING other than this most personal of things happening to me right now.
i can't help but moan hard and low as the warm, soapy flannel cleans me front and back, followed eventually by the hand towel, drying me off in preparation for what is to come next. Master reaches over and picks up the waist belt.
"Master?!" i plead, but He doesn't stop. The waist belt goes around me and i feel the cold silicone against my skin. He knows that this hasn't been worn for a while, so He takes it gently. He brings the two ends of the belt together in their block, just below my belly button, and holds them there with one hand, while he uses the other to reach between my legs.
He takes hold of the front guard and brings it out towards Him. i feel the wire as it is drawn beneath my cheeks; my half hearted attempt to clench and stop it, overridden by the other half of my own desire to welcome its embrace.
His fingers gently place the guard against my body as i continue to moan long and hard, while the guard is positioned and the top hole of the guard is brought to its resting place in the front block, along with the other two sections of the belt.
He holds the mechanism securely with one hand, while He uses the fingers of His other hand to make sure my skin is correctly placed beneath the shield. Oh, how his touch there is sending flames across my nervous system; all i can do is stand there and moan and groan. i wished that, just for once, He would somehow slip and send His finger deep inside me; but that would have to be one hell of an accident! Oh, what torment this is! Please! Master! Take me now!!!
The plate is deftly brought home to cover all the joints and the post installed. He has done this so often now that He has this down pat. It is as if He enjoys locking me up! Oh, if he was a prison warder i would feel so deeply sorry for the prisoners under His charge. He would put so much effort in to making them feel so miserable!
Finally, the shank of the padlock is placed through the post and at the sound of the, "click," i stifle a small scream. He senses this and pats my secured mound once more.
"There you go, my dear, all fresh and locked away!"
A feeble, "Master!" is all i can manage; the heat inside me going in to over drive. my hips writhing and my eyes betraying my longing, my lust for His hot shaft inside me.
"Please, i beg of You; give me release!"
"Not now; you must earn your little pleasures."
He takes the keys away and puts them back in the safe. However, he returns with the steel bra and an already opened padlock.
"Now that you're safely under lock and key again, let's have your hands loose so I can put this on."
He releases my hands from the ceiling. i want to slap Him, i really do. At the same time i want to grab His hot body and jump His bones. i want to spend this whole week shagging Him senseless ... but i can't. Oh hell!
i gently offer my shaking arms forward, barely able to keep my spine straight as one section of the bra is put over one arm and taken around my back. It is but a swift movement before i feel the silicone against my shoulder blades and under my arm pits; i offer my remaining arm to feed through the empty strap, and the cups are then brought to the front.
i can do nothing but leave my arms hang limply at my sides, exhausted from the frustration, unable to do anything while the cups are fitted over my breasts and the pieces brought together in the middle.
i am now feeling nothing more than resignation as the routine of the post and lock is performed and the, "click," signals that all my primary sexual organs are back at His command.
All that is my most personal, natural, human raw ... is His.
He undoes my ankles and returns the cuffs and chain to their resting place in the lower drawer. i fall to my knees and grab Him around His waist. Knowing the torment He has placed in my soul, He takes no objection to this.
"Please, Master, i beg of you!"
"No, little one. Maybe, sometime this coming week, if your efforts to please me are sufficient, then i may allow you some release ... or then again, maybe not!"
He kneels down and wraps one arm around me, brings His body against mine and His head closes in on me slowly. His lips eventually meet mine and He kisses me long, deeply and lovingly. He leaves me breathless as His other arm completes the enveloping of my body as i start to shake and quiver a little, such is the strength of the frustration and longing.
Oh, i am so His. Utterly and completely His.
After an eternity, He pulls away and leaves me limp and completely submissive to His wishes.
"Now, get that hipster clean, put it away and get started on dinner. I'm hungry after all this work i've had to do maintaining you. Chop chop!"
He gets up and strides out the door, leaving my aching mound screaming blue, bloody murder. i bang my fist against the shield and paw at it to no avail. i whimper and whine until finally i give in and return my mind to its duties. If i am to get any chance at release and pleasure, i have to serve Him with all my heart.
i would gladly do it anyway; spend all my waking life at His feet ... but this way is so much sweeter.
Bastard!
You may think me an ungrateful bitch for calling my Master by that name, and if He but knew it, then He would spank my arse so hard that i wouldn't be able to sit down this side of the next eclipse. However, you would be wrong. He knows how i feel. In fact, He is actively nurturing this insane little ball of hatred and frustration that is in my soul. To any sadist, seeing this long running torment is like some form of life blood and it is my emotional agony that gives Master a sweet, evil smile not only in His face but in His heart as well; and you know me, i want nothing more than to give my Master pleasure, even if it does require me to ache and writhe against these portable steel prisons. Indeed, it is hard work for Him as He can't just turn off to it; because if He did then the belt would simply become another pair of knickers and i would stop thinking about it. This is why He has to continue the mental and physical torment, to keep the fire of desire and lust raging within me; specifically so that the cold, hard steel can deny me.
i pick up the hipster and hold it over the bath, scrubbing it gently with liquid soap and hot water. It nearly burns my hands doing this, but I know that if i don't do it right then it will be me that suffers in the long run. What is it that they say? "Cleanliness becomes more important when godliness is unlikely." or something. Well, i can tell you that there is no chance of anything approaching godliness in this house! Especially when i'm my own little personal hell on legs.
When finished, i potter in to the office and take a glance at the wall safe. My keys are inside that bloody thing. i could swear that the number pad is smiling at me. Mocking me as if it was in some sort of metal brotherhood with these damn belts.
i put the hipster in its drawer. The belts have their own drawer in the filing cabinet. If the tax man came calling and looking for paperwork then he'd be in for one hell of a shock. It would completely redefine his definition of, "securing the bottom line," or, "bottom fisher." Come to think of it, "precious metals," would be worth thinking about.
i catch myself. This is getting me nowhere. Master is hungry and i've got food to cook. Got to think fast. Last time i felt this rebellious i cooked him, "toad in the hole," and that definitely earned me a spanking ... after He had eaten it of course. The fact that he thoroughly enjoyed the change of culinary pace was neither here nor there; i got a thorough hiding for that one.
It doesn't take more than a moment for inspiration to hit. We had some chicken the other night and the left overs were still in the fridge. Two cans of chicken soup in the pan, pieces of real chicken, a few mushrooms sliced and accompanied by some fresh bread with some spread. i do a chunk of these sorts of things for speed. Another little secret is to put some brown sauce in with baked beans to give them a little lift. However, Master loved the warm soup and that was another job well done with minimum fuss. Those are all the little tricks learned over the years.
With the meal done and the dishes washed and put away again, we had a few hours in front of the television. i was lain down on the sofa with my head in His lap with His fingers in my hair, caressing my head. i feel wanted; cherished ... loved. It seems like an eternity but yet a moment that was over too soon when the order comes to go to bed.
Fortunately for me, it is a warm night. On the cold evenings He sends me to bed ahead of Him so that i can warm His side of the bed! There are three rings in the bottom of the bed, one at the corners and one at the centre so that Master can splay my legs while still occupying only half of the bed. There are other rings just above the centre of each pillow so that my wrists can easily be secured there without risking my intruding on His side; whichever side He deems His that evening.
And so it is. i am ordered to strip down to the belt, put in metal ankle and wrist cuffs and then secured to the half of the bed nearest the door. He gets the window which is open a chink for the fresh air. He lays the light, summer duvet over me and slips in beside me, coming in close and leaning on one elbow. His presence is strong, like a lion standing over its helpless prey. His free hand slips under the cover, over to my body and gently but powerfully, plays on my skin.
