Monday, March 7, 2011
Fiction: the only thing worse than being locked in a chastity belt is...
“So what sort of belt are you using these days?” Amy enquired, glancing casually at the man waiting outside the café, rather weighed down with the shopping bags he was holding.
“Oh, I don’t keep him in a belt any more.” Sabrina replied.
“Ooooh! Have you had him cut?” Amy asked with interest and some relish.
Her friend looked up at her.
“Certainly not. Where would I kick him if there wasn’t anything left down there?”
Amy was confused.
“But I thought you didn’t allow him to come? Ever?”
“I don’t” Sabrina replied. “It’s against my house rules and he knows it.”
She laughed, then took pity on her bemused friend.
“I’m just teasing you. I had him fitted with a detector. It’s a little chip that goes under his skin. It monitors what’s going on, and reports it.”
“Reports it where?” Amy asked.
“It’s a web-based application that I can access from anywhere” her friend replied. “Look.”
She pulled out her Blackberry, pressed a few keys, then passed it across the table. It displayed some numbers, along with a large green rectangle labelled “flaccid” and various links to other pages. Sabrina scrolled it down, and showed her friend the field that reported Last orgasm: 18th January 2011, 10.54.
“I can access all of the history at any time” she said, showing Amy some scrolling sets of numbers.
“And I’ve got it set up so that if he does have an orgasm, I get a text message immediately.”
“And it updates in real time?” Amy asked, enviously.
“Sure” her friend replied. “BOY!”
The man started in shock, then scurried in past the amused looks from the other tables at his rapid response to the preremptory command.
“Sit down” Sabrina ordered, curtly, and with a worried expression on his face, he arranged the shopping bags on the floor and gingerly lowered himself into his seat.
“I’ve been telling Amy about our new approach to keeping your chastity” she said. “How there’s really nothing to stop you getting…excited any more. Nothing except the thought of my cane.”
She leaned over towards him, and gazed into his eyes.
“Nothing except that wicked cane…for a very…naughty…boy…” and her booted foot slowly began to caress his inner leg.
“Do you find it very frustrating?” Amy asked, her eyes wide and sympathetic. “Only – and here she leaned forwards and smiled sympathetically. “Only I find my man gets so very frustrated in his chastity belt. Especially when I ask him to help me get undressed….” She eased back her top, to expose a lacy bra strap on her shoulder. “….or to massage me with oil” she breathed.
“And you spank him too, don’t you?” Sabrina asked, innocently.
“Oh yes” Amy breathed heavily, her eyes widening. “Yes, I spank him vigorously! I get my hairbrush, and I put him across my thighs…” and she swivelled in her chair – “these thighs” – and she took hold of the man’s unresisting face, and directed attention down to where her thighs were visible between the top of her leather boots and the hem of her tight skirt.
Sabrina picked up the Blackberry and giggled. “See?” she said, holding it out to her friend.
The rectangle was now bright red and contained the words “Fully erect”. In fact, the technology wasn’t really necessary for that, as the swelling was very clearly visible in the trousered lap in front of them.
Sabrina gently laid her hand on top of the straining material. Amy noted with interest that several numbers on the Blackberry changed instantly, and a small exclamation mark began to flash.
Sabrina patted the mound gently and smiled.
“A very excited boy. Aren’t we? Right here.” She patted again.
“Yes, Mistress Sabrina” the unhappy man replied, hoarsely.
“Yes – very excited.” She patted the mound again. “But you won’t do anything about it, will you?”
“No Mistress Sabrina, it’s against the rules.”
“Whose rules?” Sabrina asked, sharply.
“Your rules, Mistress Sabrina.”
“And what happens to boys who break that particular rule? Hmmm?” She was holding her hand flat, palm down over the bulge now, which was pushing urgently against it.
“They get the cane, Mistress Sabrina.”
“How many do you give him?” Amy asked with interest.
Sabrina smiled and nodded at the man.
“Two extra each time, Miss Amy” he replied.
“So you…?” Amy started, in puzzlement.
“He started with six” Sabrina replied, in a matter of fact way, taking her hand away from the bulge, which quivered slightly. “And it goes up by two each time. He’s disobeyed me nine times since the belt came off, so now it’s 24 each time.”
Amy was impressed. She had seen Sabrina disciplining her men on a few occasions. 24 with a cane was no joke, and would probably leave the miscreant barely able to walk.
“And it’s going to continue to go up?” she asked.
Sabrina looked a little shocked. “Certainly not!” she replied, primly. “It’s going to stay at 24 because he’s never going to be disobedient again. That’s what you told me after the last beating, isn’t it boy?”
“Yes, Mistress Sabrina.”
“You finally learnt your lesson, didn’t you, when I gave you those 24?”
“Yes, Mistress Sabrina.”
Sabrina waited in silence, but something about her look conveyed menace.
“Err…thank you for teaching me such a valuable lesson, Mistress Sabrina!” he gasped, hurriedly.
Sabrina looked somewhat mollified.
“But if here were to have a little…slip” she remarked, knowingly. “Or maybe even an accident…then yes we would need to take an even firmer approach to the problem.”
“What if he has an involuntary emission – in the night for example?” Amy asked.
“Still beat him” Sabrina remarked casually. “He might be lying about it, and it’s better to be safe than sorry. Anyway, I think the cane should start to work on his unconscious mind too.”
She smiled at the man, who was obviously trying to think calming, unsexy thoughts – a difficult task in present company.
“But you worked it out, didn’t you? What would happen if you had…say…one slip per year. Just one little slip in every 365 days. In twenty years time, you’d be getting…?”
“64 each time, Mistress Sabrina” he replied, with an unhappy quaver in his voice.
“And over those twenty years, you’d have had…?”
“Nine hundred strokes, Mistress Sabrina.”
“Nine hundred strokes.” She replied with satisfaction. “So it’s worth exercising some self-control, isn’t it? Because if it’s – oooh, as much twice each year, then in 20 years time that will be…?
“One hundred and four strokes a time, and two thousand six hundred strokes over the whole time, Mistress Sabrina.” he breathed.
“That’s right” she replied with satisfaction. “So you keep it quiet down there. Shoo, now!”And the unhappy looking man got up and – with some apparent difficulty – slowly walked back to his post outside the café.