I know, I know, but…

I wish to emphasize that I did not write this, it was on SweetChastity.com and has since vanished. I am posting it here to preserve this story. Please do not credit me at all for this story.

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A Fantasy Best Left Alone.
By Lord Frodo

“So now its your turn.” She said. “Tell me your fantasy.” It was the first warm spring day of the year and they were recharging their spirits in the sun light. They were laying out on the expansive, rolling lawn of the city park staring up at the big, blue sky giving names to the cotton ball clouds drifting lazily by. Her head rested on his stomach. “I told you mine,” She said. “Now you tell me yours.”

“I didn’t want to play.” He said.

She rolled over, her cheek against him looking up at his handsome face. His hands were behind his head making his massive chest seem that much more bigger. His sky blue eyes were gazing up, watching the clouds. “Comon.” She chided. “It can’t be any more pathetic than mine.” Her’s was a plain, straight forward Pirate abduction. The salty bearded one eye sailor, reeking of sweat and gun powder carrying her in his powerful arms, her ship, plundered and now a blazing sunset, lighting up the night backdrop. Down below to his quarters, he flings her to his bunk. As she vainly struggles against her bonds, he rips her dress asunder, only to pause and gaze in reverence at her creamy, china porcelain flesh, the bud on her heaving bosoms, perking to attention. His scraggly beard tickles her chest as he plunges his face into her deep cleavage and she succumbs to her lusting want. Oddly enough, her pirate looked much like her husband, but she didn’t tell him that.

He snorted a laugh. “Your fantasy can happen.” Her eyebrow arched as her curiosity piqued.

“As if I actually want some smelly ol’ pirate to have his way with me.”

“Yes you do.” She sighed.

“But where could we rent a Spanish galleon?” He pointed to the sky.

“That cloud looks like a Man-o-War.”

She poked him in the side. “Don’t try to change the subject. Spill it.”

“No.” He said.

She began to idly play with the buttons on his shirt. “If it can’t happen, then what do we have to worry about.”

“Because maybe it can.” She lifted her head, startled at the paradox.

“Then share it!”

“Maybe I don’t want it to happen.” He looked down at her, then laid his head back, looking skyward again. “Perhaps it’s a fantasy best left alone.”

Her eyes were wide with wonder. “But that’s the best kind of fantasy. Come now. If you can’t share your deepest, darkest secret with your wife, it’ll only fester in your sub conscious until it corrupts your morals. Much like a politician.”

“Are you saying that a politician had morals to start with?”

She patted his chest. “Your changing the subject again. You know my hooks are in and I won’t let this go.” She nudged him. “Tell me.” She whined like a cute six year old. “I promise not to think you’re a total freak.”

“You already think I’m a total freak.” He said.

She snuggled up close, her head resting on his chest so she could see him better. “I’m waiting.” He looked at her, then back up at the sky.

“I saw a web site, the other day. They were selling chastity belts.”

She snuggled closer. “You want to lock me up? Keep me as your wench?”

“They’re permanent devices.” He looked at her, his eyes watching her reaction. “No sex, no touching, just sexual frustration forever.”

Her eyebrows lifted as she pondered the concept. She sat up, then swung her leg over him and laid on top of him, her hands pressed against his chest, her chin resting on her hands. “And you wouldn’t be able to fuck me, then what would you do?”

“I’d have to do without.”

She mused. “Hmmm, and so would I.” She inched closer to his face. “Locked up forever? I think I would scream after the first five minutes.”

He touched her lip with a gentle finger, outlining her gentle, kissable mouth. “They have gags.”

“But then there would be no kissing.” Her lips fell upon his, their warmth mingling.

When they broke, he whispered. “I would have to do without.” She cooed. “Oh, how you would suffer?” She smiled. “And what would you do with a wife you could not fuck or kiss? Perhaps you would have to give me a pearl necklace?” She pushed her breasts together, deepening her cleavage.

He shook his head. “Your breasts would be shielded.”

She blinked her surprise. “What would you do with a sexless, kissless, breastless, wife who’s being driven mad with sexual frustrations?”

He wrapped his arms around her. “I would hold her, and love her and delight in her torrid predicament.” She looked around, checking on the other people strolling around the park to see if anyone was paying them any mind. She then took her skirt and draped it over his waist and straddled him. And how you would suffer.” She said reaching under her skirt and finding his zipper. “You would miss my warm, tight pussy so much.” She stroked him gently. “Perhaps I could use my hands to ease your suffering.”

He smiled. “It would pale in comparison.”

She smiled feeling his solid firmness. “Yes. I think you would be miserable without my pussy to fuck. You couldn’t just take another woman, her cunt would never be as sweet as mine.” She whispered as she hiked her hips and slid down on him, shivering at her own wetness, surprised at her own reaction.

“Mmmmm. Oh, I could not bear to see you suffer.” He moaned. “Then perhaps, some fantasies are best to remain fantasies.” And there in the warmth of the new spring sun on the fresh delicate grass in plain view of anyone who wanted to watch, they slowly, demurely screwed like earth worms.

She squeaked, startled by her sudden orgasm. She found herself trembling, drained, but the thought of being chastised for life sparked her again. She continued to slowly grind against him and as she watched his face flashing with orgasmic pain, she felt her own orgasm clutch her again. They laid there, conjoined for what felt like hours until the new sun slipped below the hill.

They went home and fucked and sucked like newly weds.

Monday was grey and drizzly and she counted the seconds until the lunch hour rolled around and waited with baited breath for the office to meander out. Quickly she brought up a search engine and typed in Chastity belts.

She was amazed at the many sites selling them; their modern materials and styles designed for long wear, but one site went beyond.

She clicked on the MPEG and watched as Kate Jackson explained how the Chasti-lock 2000 used nanites to permanently deny access to a subject’s sexuality. She turned to her partner, Chastity Liberate, a silenced, bound and chastised woman, her beautiful, happy, expressive eyes conveying so much.

She logged off, her heart beating. With minutes left to her lunch, she snuck off to the bathroom and in the quiet of the stall, reached under her skirt and touched dripping body. In moments she was clenched in orgasm.

At home she wanted her husband badly, but she refrained. They sat on the couch, him watching the boob tube, her watching him. Without a word, she sat up and unzipped his pants.

He looked a little surprised, but quickly recovered, leaning forward to kiss her, but she pushed him back with a gentle nudge and without any explanation, gently stroked the smooth skin of his cock, quickly driving him to erection. She took his hand and lead him to the bedroom and laying him out on the bed, took up hand cream and slowly, slowly, brought him to a screaming orgasm.

She was amazed at her new game. She could prolong his erotic torture indefinitely, until she took pity on him and decided it was time for him to come. When he caught his breath, he reached for her to return the favor somehow, but she only patted his chest, and snuggled with him. In her mind, she could see herself, covered head to toe in an impermeable latex sheath, unable to feel any sexual stimulation, any fulfilment, only want. She shivered.

Later, as he slept, she snuck off to the bathroom. As she fingered herself to orgasm she wondered if he had been thinking the same thing.

At work, she tried to see how long she could go without talking to anyone before they thought it rude. She even faked laryngitis for serval days. In her cubicle, she taped her fingers and thumbs together. Her work, which consisted mostly of light typing and moving around a computer mouse was easily manageable. She set up preprogramed responses for the computer to answer the phone and found that took care of eighty percent of anything she had to say.

When he went away on business, she made a disk out of cardboard and covered it with aluminum, running out the wrinkles with her fingers until it was smooth. She put double sided tape on the back and placed it over her mouth. She sat in front of the mirror, doing the rest of her make up, her hair. She felt a shiver run through her body when she thought of being a silenced woman. She wore the disk at home all week, drilling a hole so she could put a straw and found the hardest thing to go without was solid food.

And sex.

She set a goal of a week. She’d done that before easily, but when she knew she couldn’t have it, she had to have it. It would suddenly overwhelm her, drive her to find her husband for sudden, impassioned, furious sex, or to the nearest private place where she would touch herself, her mind reeling with the image of being locked up and unable to do anything about her forever building urges that she must somehow endure.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go without sex. It was a fantasy best left alone.

So she ordered the Chasti-Lock 2000.

The paradox of sexual denial. The more she couldn’t have it, the more she wanted it.

Intoxicating!

And the choices! The paths that lay before her, to command her future, control her body, her selection of prisons was mind bending. She agonized over the options. There was an option that would create an inner sheath in her body openings that would allow her husband access to her body, but permit no sensations for her. She envisioned her husband inside her, his body wrapped with passions and she having only his joy to hold on to.

There were exotic animal varieties, and severe bondage and torture options and mental tormenting sensory deprivations. In the end she decided on simplicity.

She quit her job and set up office at home and then contracted herself to her old job. She said her goodbyes to her old coworkers, eluding hints that she had throat cancer, so don’t be surprised if she didn’t answer the phone.

When it arrived she tore into the box. The mirror finished surfaces reflected her awed expression. She read through the instructions. There was a remote control and once all parts were in place, she had to hold down the remote button and turn the locking key and everything would activate. Then twenty four hours later, the nanites would permanently attach the Chasti- Lock. It recommended the subject be restrained in case panic ensued during the twenty four hour locking phase which may result in serious injury.

She waited with nervous fever for him to go off on a business trip. She timed it so that his return home would be at the end of the twenty four hours. She placed the cuffs on first. Ankles, above the calf, wrists and above the elbows. Each fit snugly and comfortably. Next was the choker. A contoured heavy band, twelve centimeters wide with a swivel ring attachment at the throat.

She had chosen the steel corset. Hardcore hip and waist training. She held her breath as the joined the sides together. She panted, amazed at its tightness. How could she endure this?

The Chasti-Locks were next. Massive, intimidating plugs she quivered just looking at them.

Slowly, grunting and wheezing the forced each one in, clenching in orgasm as each one slipped home.

Her last.

She opened her mouth and packed the fat gag in, wriggling the flanges to slip behind her lips and before her gums. Even without the silence feature that would painfully shock her if she made any noise, its sheer, almost choking size was enough to quench any sound.

She took up the remote and sat in the lounge chair. She connected the short bar to her ankles and wrists and sat back. She tried to calm her pounding heart as she fingered the key and the button. Push one and twist the other and she was locked up for life! She would have twenty four hours, helplessly waiting for him to come home to contemplate her fate.

Push one and twist the other. So easy!

She couldn’t do it.

She sat back in the chair, listening to the hall clock, trapped in her shackles unable to make the final connections, she could only wait for him to come home and decide her destiny.

“What have you done?” He asked coming in the house. She woke, fluttering her eyes at him. He embraced her, kissed the gag that locked away her lips. She gave him the remote and showed him the instructions. She held him, waiting for the activation.

He looked at her. “Darling, this was only a fantasy.” She smiled with her eyes and took his hand and lead him off to the bed room. There, she laid him out, massaging his jet lag muscles, relaxing him, preparing him before gently taking his member in her delicate fingers. She played him, like strokes of sunlight against a flower pedal.

Soft, slow and simmering passions. This was her discovery. She had full control of him now and could linger on his orgasm indefinitely, until he whimpered, until he begged, until he did her bidding. She gave him no indication what she wanted, but he figured it out.

He held up the remote.

It was her fantasy now and she wanted it to come true.

As he came, convulsing, writhing in her palms, he activated the remote, locking her up forever.

Suddenly she felt everything within her tighten and in her mind she felt a spark of ecstacy rock through her. It was and forever would be her last.

Her mittened hands flashed over her keyboard as she ordered groceries on-line. It had been a year since her chastisement and her at home business flourished as she dedicated all of her energies to either work or her husband’s pleasure. If she didn’t, the sexual tensions ever growing within her drove her mad. She was amazed at how happy she was at that arrangement.

She got up and peered through the window as the delivery truck drove away. She waited until it was up the block before she opened the door a crack to retrieve her new order.

She quickly tore open the cardboard box and marveled at the new Pearl Necklace Option package. It was a large breast shield with a hole that ran through her cleavage. The hole had been lined with a self lubricating synthetic clone of her vaginal tissue. She closed her eyes as she envisioned her husband’s warm fluids splashing on her chin. A new way to please her hubby.

Her hand absently touched her metal shod sex and she shivered, wishing for an orgasm to spontaneously rip through her.

It didn’t.

She sighed and placed the new attachment over her bosom and activating it. In a few hours it would have permanently bonded to her and she couldn’t wait for her husband to try it out. It would drive him wild and intensify her sexual torment.

With a happy, playful sparkle in her eye as she sat back at her computer to work, tingling in succulent, sexual frustration, living in a fantasy best left alone.

Series Navigation

Chasti-Permalock R&D ReportA Most Contagious Fantasy

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