Forever Chastity MF, bondage,n/c.

[gal4]

Forever Chastity

I don't how I've gotten myself into an absolute spot. And I'm soooo horny because of it, and beginning to get desperate for some kind of release.

Here's my problem.

I've met a man to be the owner I crave, the owner I seek, but he's very married and very involved in the lifestyle on the side. In my constant hunt for sensation we've had 3 sessions and I must say, he's very, very good. And it's the last session that has me in my predicament.

For some reason with the man I've been a little (a lot) flippant and disrespectful; challenging him to prove to me he can own me and satisfy me but still stay committed to his vanilla marriage. He has accepted the challenge in ways I never imagined. Right now he not only owns me, but he's occupying almost every thought, emotion and sensation I have.

As I write this letter, I am sitting at my desk encased in the most diabolical chastity belt and bra I've ever worn. In fact, both pieces are unique to my entire experience.

They have been locked securely in place for more than 4 days. I'm such a slut that one day without orgasm pure torture to me. And I sit here knowing these damned things won't come off for at least another seven days! OH MY GOD! I'M GOING TO LOSE MY MIND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I NEED RELEASE. MY BODY CRAVES IT!

I never suspected anything like this was going to happen during our first session. He bound my hands in front of me and secured them to the headboard and teased me to very intense orgasm (cumming before he granted permission). Then he had me stand on stool, bound my hands to a ring hung from the ceiling and kicked the school away, leaving me hanging.

For the next 30 minutes or so he measured my body every way possible, telling me only that he wanted to be able to make some very interesting outfits should we meet again. The rest of that session and the next were quite challenging and very satisfying for me. I know there is no long-term future ownership by him, but he was more than skilled enough to keep me coming back until I found my true owner.

Last Friday's third session was equally satisfying for me. He bound me tightly, caned my ass 30 times and each tit 15 times, and then filled each of my holes with his seed. As you can imagine, I was coming before the ass caning ended. He's good enough to keep sluts like me coming constantly and that's what he did.

The session took a small turn for the unusual after he fucked my ass and had me clean his prick with my mouth. He tied my hands in front of me, took me into the bathroom where he proceeded to give me a shower, douche me, and then cleaned my ass with an enema. I thought that a bit strange, most men I've had like to know I'm carrying their sperm inside me.

He took me back into the torture room and proceeded to repeat the process with the hook and stool he used during our first session. I hung there like a slab of meat as he stepped onto the stool himself and proceeded to fill my mouth with a large ball gag, buckling it tightly behind my head. I was getting wet wondering what could be coming next, but figuring I'd like it!

Then he left the room, whistling happily as he went. I wondered what the plan was now and, like the slut I am, I imagined several different wild and kinky scenarios.

The reality wasn't even close.

A few minutes later he returned, this time carrying a gym bag that had a couple of unusual bulges in it. That's when my trouble began.

He looked at me with an expression of pure lust and total power. Then he looked at the bag and back to me. Then he started speaking, something like this:

“My incredible slave, you excite and challenge me as no other woman ever has. Your behavior and your attitude during our e-mail conversations and during our first session started my creative juices flowing. You know my personal situation and the conditions attached to your being here in the first place. And I know you seek an owner, a man to take complete possession of your body, your mind, your soul, your every waking thought.

You've teased and taunted me, suggesting that I could not possibly take possession of you and maintain control of your body because I can not be with you every day and every night. Well my dear slave, the contents of this bag will allow me do so. I guarantee that I will own every fiber of your being, every thought, and that your body will so crave physical release you will willingly declare me your owner.

I couldn't imagine what could be in the bag, but he had my full attention as he bent over, unzipped the bag, pulled out its contents and proceeded to wrap my body in this incredible device I wear tonight.

Let me tell you about it.

It's a bra and chastity set. It's made of stainless steel lined with leather. I can't cut it off, obviously, and worse, the locks are actually small, flush combination locks. Each lock is a small, 10-digit touchpad and he told me each combination is an 8-digit code. I'm not figuring the combination out, that's for sure.

But there's so much more. I'm sure if I wasn't being tortured by, I'd truly appreciate the creativity that went into designing it.

[gal4]

The waistband is a full three inches wide and sits above my hip bones. It's at least an inch or two smaller than my normal waist measurement, so it acts like a corset and I'm forced to keep my posture very erect. I assume that's because he hung me when he measured me and he hung me when he put it on.

The crotch piece actually slides into slots and locks into place. It's about 3 inches wide where it joins my waistband, tapers to fit between my legs, passes over my cunt, then separates before it covers my asshole, narrower bands sliding across my ass cheeks and slipping into slots on the back of my waistband.

The crotch piece is quite an invention. It was designed with a little pocket for my clit, covering it with a small steel bulge that makes any contact with my best friend impossible. Inside the little bulge are some kind of metal or plastic spikes that poke my clit whenever it's engorged, which of course it always is. It's a cycle, swollen clit, pain from the spikes that excites me, which makes my clit swell. I don't think my clit has been out of contact with the spikes since this thing went on me.

My cunt is covered by a steel mesh that allows me to pee, but that's it. Nothing is getting inside this cunt that isn't already there.

Of course, there wouldn't be very much room because before he snapped this thing in place he stuffed my cunt with 4 ben-wa like balls. They're about an inch and a half around and 2 inches longs, more egg-shaped than round, and they're unbalanced and fill with some of heavy material that sloshes around inside them. As I'm sure you can imagine, my cunt is stuffed full and the odd shapes, funny weights and sloshing material means there's constant pressure and stimulation inside my sensitive cunny. But there's no way to bring them into contact with anything that will get me off.

He didn't leave my asshole untended either. In the back center of the waistband is a small hinge that holds a thin piece of steel that slips snugly between my asschecks. Attached to the end of this small piece of steel is a huge butt plug, with a couple of anal beads attached to its rounded end. He told me the plug was 6 inches long and almost two inches wide at it's base and that the anal beads add another 3 inches to its length. I know it feels like it's touching by stomach, especially when I sit.

Again, his creativity. I have no choice but to wear this plug because I can't remove the steel bar that keeps it attached to my waistband, and I can't very well walk around with a giant butt plug hanging out of my pants. It's really quite an invention. I can relieve myself as I need to, but then it's only after the torture of removing this creature and before the torture of re-inserting it.

The size of the butt plug, the anal beads, and the balls stuffing my cunt make being awake an adventure, never mind breathing, walking, standing, sitting, etc. It's a constantly full and ever more desperate feeling.

By the way, sitting is also a unique torture with this device. On the outside of the bar holding the butt plug is knob. It's about an inch and a half long with an oval shape that fits up my ass crack. When I sit down it and my ass compresses and I sit right on this knob which just drives the butt plug deeper up my ass. And of course when I stand the plug slips out until the fat part of the plug stops it from slipping out. It's almost like getting fucked in the ass – in and out. I have to control my breathing in both directions because the sensations are so intense.

Finally, the chastity device has two techniques to control my clothing. The first is what I call my flap. It's a small piece of steel that's hinged midway through the crotch piece. It's about 4 inches long and about two inches wide at the top, tapering to about half an inch at the end, with a serrated edge in the middle of the tip. It means I cannot wear pants, stockings, or panties of any kind.

The second method is quite clever. The same sharp, serrated edges are molded around the waistband and carefully placed a couple of inches down the front plate and the two bands over my ass. It means I can not wear clothes that circle around the waist or even ride high on the hips. I'm forced to wear skirts that slip down my hips, making it impossible to cover the steel bands surrounding my body. The looks I've gotten from men and women range from shock to disgust to awe to envy to lust.

Now for the top part of this torture device. He's fashioned a bra that I'm also not getting out of, and that's keeping me very aware of my breasts.

The 'bra' has two steel cups, lined with leather and the same (I assume) spikes over my clit. There's a little bar between the cups and a strap that goes around my back and locks there. Like the waistband, the cups and bra are a little small, again because I was hanging, so I feel slightly restricted in my breathing and each movement of my arms and upper body brings about a less than subtle poke into my tits. The pain is excruciating at times, yet the masochist in me gets so turned on.

The other little trick with this bra is the strap. It's made of some kind of fine, flat steel cable. It runs behind my neck, wraps around my neck once and connects to the other side. The straps fit into slots on the bra just like the slots on my chastity belt. He's used some kind of clamp on the back of my neck to prevent chocking. And hanging from the necklace is a stone circle about three inches in diameter, with the word 'slave' very visible in the center. It lies across the flat expanse of my upper chest, visible to anyone who bothers to look.

He's also placed the damned serrated edges on the bra as well. Two on the inside of the bra cups and two each up each side of the bra strap. This means I can only wear a top with deep cleavage and thin straps or that fits very loosely, forcing me to make my bra visible to the world as well.

Getting home after the session was quite an experience. He tore up the clothes I wore to our meeting and had only the very short skirt and tank top he provided for me, along with the spiked high heels. I certainly looked like a slut. And it took almost no time for this strange and very exciting bondage to get me hot

[gal4]

I knew when we parted after the session (on Friday) that I was stuck in this outfit until Monday, when we had a meeting planed. Three days of utter frustration and building need focused my weekend on my body and his deviousness.

Then I awoke to an email on Monday morning telling me he hadn't forgotten to mention his business trip. He was flying to the West Coast and wouldn't be home until this Friday night. And of course Mr. Family Man has to spend the weekend in his vanilla life, leaving me locked inside this incredible device. And then his boss arrives Monday, so it's Tuesday afternoon at the soonest.

Then there's the public exposure part of this situation. He won't let me stay home and suffer. No. He forces me to walk and move about in this torture device, and in public. Not only does taunt me with emails, he's sending daily packages for pick up with signature and ID only. That way he knows whether I've actually picked them up and obeyed his commands. He's mailed them different drop off offices all over town, forcing me to dress in a way that keeps me clothed but, with the little cutting attachments on the device, I have to show my captivity quite openly. He's told me that if I miss any packages for any reason he'll add two days to my time in the device and whip my ass and tits 50 times each.

And of course the offices are in very public places, malls and office buildings etc, (yesterday it was restaurant for some reason), that requires I park and walk some distance with the balls and the butt plug moving about and bouncing off each other. It's all I can do to not scream out my frustration and beg someone to help me get physical release. My mind is starting to shut down as it becomes overwhelmed.

Now I'm not sure I'm ever getting out of this thing, except on a temporary basis.

He's sent me several e-mails today taunting me, asking me if my body is his, if I’m thinking about him, if I'm feeling the desperate need to gain relief, if my mind and soul are becoming his. The only answer I can give is yes.

Just a moment ago his e-mail suggested that our time Tuesday will only be temporary respite from this endless torture. He says that he'll release me only after I've been bound in some other inescapable way, then brought to what will certainly be an intense, mind-blowing, body-exhausting series of orgasms.

He says that after he's finished with me Tuesday, he'll replace the entire device before he leaves. He says I'll never be free of his bondage -- that I will remain like this except when he binds me in some other way and removes the devices so he can train my body to his desires and use it to satisfy his lust.

And then he mentioned his month-long trip to Europe, and that he leaves Thursday.

I'm already a babbling, leaking piece of slut flesh after only four days. God knows what I'll be like in another week. My needs are so intense now and building with every second. This device is getting to me. What if he delivers on his last email? I may never be free from this kind of torture, waiting for him to unlock me and offer some short-lived release, only be returned to frustration. A life lived in frustration and constant want, I'm not sure what I would do or promise if my needs get strong enough.

I'm beginning to think that I may already be owned and just starting to realize what my life will be like in the future.