I’ve been on the road, and now we’re off on vacation, so no Shona updates this week.
However, here’s more of a story featuring the slightly odd Hannah that Hal serviced, but 25-years later when she’s a 40-something Virgo. There’s also a glimpse of a much older Colleen (NightNurse), Shona and Hal from Shona’s Surprising Slave.
Read the first chapter - paywall removed! - then read on…
The double doors swing open. The room is laid out for a full wedding party, but there's just four of us, plus the Registrar waiting at her big mahogany desk.
Chantelle slips her arm in mine. She's wearing a classic Marilyn Monroe white dress, with no bra and lots of creamy cleavage. She's done her roots, so her platinum-blonde hair makes her look the part. She hasn't showered, though, and I can smell her musk. I get a flash of the last night, her lying naked on the bed using her vibrator, me not even allowed to go down on her --- "Wait until we're married, sweetie."
My penis heaves against its cage.
Tonight I get to use my prosthetic and --- finally --- give her another seeing to like when we first hooked. Then, on just twelve months time, I'll be free of my device and we can do the real thing!
There's a muffled whine. Chantelle's legs wobble and she almost goes over on her white stiletto heels. Before we set off this morning, she slipped an egg vibrator into her vagina, and left it on random. She tosses me a flushed smirk and I see the flush has gone all the way down her sternum to splash in her big cleavage.
A wet pressure builds up in my pierced dick. Now I feel like I'm the one who's going to orgasm --- except the Artemis Chaste Maker device makes that impossible by any means. (Something about pressure points.)
Chantelle draws my arm closer, crushing it into her side boob. With my help, she totters up the aisle between the empty rows of chairs and we manage to sit opposite the Registrar, an older woman who smiles at us sweetly. "Hannah. Leo. Welcome. You are expecting a CARGO Asymmetric Partnership?"
I nod.
"Yes," says Chantelle. She pulls the contract closer and signs her name as the Head of Household. She riffles through the sheets and signs the bottom. The vibrator whines and she bites off a little gasp. "All looks good to me."
The blood drains from my brain into my captive cock. I squirm. Somehow I can't take my eyes off her honey-white cleavage. She crosses her knees so the dress falls away as far as her inviting thighs.
The Registrar looks for the mysterious insect that's making the sporadic whining sound, gives up. "Leo, would you care to check and sign the contract?"
I obediently enter my name and birth date. The CARGO Act and I share a birthday; we're both 25 years old and I'm therefore one of the very first members of the "Real Cargo Generation" they talk about these days. At first I resented it. I came of age surrounded by girls who were cheerfully promiscuous, but not with me. Then I took the plunge after college, and suddenly I could have all the pussy I could eat. Now I'm a year away from having actual sex with the hottest woman I've ever met.
Chantelle touches my arm. "Leo?"
I reach for my phone where I have the notes I downloaded.
It's not there.
Beyond Chantelle, Shona, a formidable red haired woman who must be about 60, regards me with amused green eyes.
A cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. My glass collar feels too tight.
I twist to glance at the second witness who's sitting on my left; Colleen, a fifty-something Irish woman with striking grey-streaked black tresses. She's watching with almost clinical interest.
No help on that quarter. Both women are old friends of Chantelle. I sort of lost touch with my crowd when she and I went steady.
"Leo?" prompts the Registrar.
"Um." I thumb through the partnership contract, looking for stuff I recognise. I happen on "Control of Financial Matters." My pen hovers over the clause to do with bank accounts.
Chantelle leans closer to me. "We can take another look at that when you have a job. Until then, you'll have to be a kept man." She runs her tongue over her teeth.
My penis throbs. I shudder, glance at the two witnesses. I have no idea what she's implying, but my dick thinks it's OK so...
I move on to Domestic Safety. The contract waives my protection --- which is fine, because we do a lot of kink and I'd hate Chantelle to get into trouble. However, there's a clause that lets her evict me when she feels unsafe.
The egg vibrator whines. Chantelle jiggles. "You're not going to turn into a wife beater, are you Leo?"
My caged cock gives a wet pulse and then turns to a sort of numb concrete. Jesus I want her!
I drop the pen, pick it up again. Finally I locate the section on Fidelity. Blah blah she can have whatever same-sex relationships suit her blah blah etc... I leave that in. I mean, nice if it happens?
My pen hovers on the clause that lets her sleep with other men.
She pouts at me.
I cross it out firmly. No sloppy seconds for me.
Chantelle countersigns the amendment, I sign the contract.
The witnesses lean over to do their thing, and sophisticate perfumes mingle with Chantelle's natural sex smell.
The Registrar smiles. "I now pronounce you Civil Partners. In accordance with the Personal Data Connectivity Act, your status will now update on relevant databases.
Chantelle's phone buzzes --- I'm the only person who knows that's a recording of her favourite vibrator.
Then my phone pings... from inside her handbag.
"Oh." She giggles sweetly. "I had it all along."
With trembling hands, I swipe away my now useless notes and open HrLckr. Sure enough I'm now listed as exclusive to Chantelle, open-ended at her discretion.
Trad marriage and exclusive. There's no going back from this now. I glance at Chantelle --- God she's voluptuous.
She winks.
My caged dick squirts. It's a good thing I'm, wearing my magic boxers. Talking of which, it's time they got put to use again.
But there's the wedding dinner first.
Outside the Registry Office, a car draws up - not your regular cab, but a high-roofed four-by-four.
Shona, the red-haired senior lady, slips into the front passenger seat.
I end up in the back, squeezed between my wife and Colleen and just feel... lust. I lean forward to address the driver, a man in his fifties sporting a golden neuter collar.
"This is nice of you," I say. "Thanks for the lift."
He nods without saying anything.
"It's what he does," says Shona. She has a harsh-edged Scottish accent.
"It's an inspiring arrangement, that one," says Colleen.
Chantelle leans over me. "I'm sure you have plenty of opportunities!"
"My goodness!" says Colleen. "But I like chaste boys too much to settle for one."
"I know that feeling!" says Chantelle and the both giggle.
"Oi!" I draw myself up. "New husband! Sitting right hear."
Chantelle's egg vibrator chooses that moment to buzz. She grabs my head kisses me hard, big lips squished against mine, tongue sliding past my teeth.
My cock inflates to fill its cage. I whimper into her mouth.
"God that's hot," says Shona in the front seat. She shifts and I have a sense of her pressing her thighs together. "How long has he been chaste?"
"Four years," says Colleen. "He'll be ripe."
The two older women laugh. Shona has a deep belly laugh that sounds vaguely crude. Colleen's is softer. But both are laughing at my expense.
I disentangle from my new wife and once again feel myself flush. Being discussed like that pushes my submissive buttons, but these days, the Chaste Respect movement demands... well a bit more respect. I open my mouth to set a boundary, but the conversation moves on with out me and I don't have anything to add.
I don't have anything to add at the dinner either --- the women talk work. Colleen actually works for the Artemis Clinics. Shona is something to do with finance. Chantelle, being an HR specialist, easily bridges the gap between them. She does, however, play footsie under the table, teasing my ankle with her bare foot so it's hard to focus on my food.
Finally, Shona calls for the bill, which she picks up.
I turn to my new wife. We're just moments away from me foxing --- that's what it's called, a pun on "faux"--- her brains out. "Shall I call a cab, my love?"
"Clubbing!" exclaims Colleen.
Shona grabs her handbag. "Aye, let's."
"But..." I begin.
Chantelle pouts and wiggles at me, so that her big breasts jiggle behind the stretchy fabric of her white dress. "It's not a wedding without dancing."
So, we end up in Club VIV. Neon lipstick spells it out over the entrance: "Very Important Virgos". A little plaque adds, "Absolutely No Free Dicks."
Chantelle and her friends march straight in. I have to wait in line with the other chastes, all of us flaunting glass collars above flamboyant black collars --- Chaste fashion has been vampire chic since before CARGO.
Tipsy women pushed past us. One pinches my bottom. While I'm distracted by that, her friend tweaks my nipple through my shirt. I yelp, but that just triggers a peel of giggles.
At last, I slide the cover away from my QR code so the bouncer can verify me, then I'm inside, buffeted by the thuddy music. I wade through the sea of short skirts, bare legs, and strappy sandals, painted toes like a myriad of exotic fish. The air is thick with feminine perspiration; a couple of hundred women are on heat!
My cage tightens. This place is like my old hunting grounds.
But where's my wife?
I sidestep a what looks like a completely drunk hen party, and put my back to a kissing booth and scan the floor.
It's the usual crazy mix. At one end of the demographic, there are gangs of party girls drinking lager from the bottles and nervous first timers, uncomfortable in their club wear. At the other end there are middle-aged divorcees making up for lost time, and fabulous cougars who've probably been wallowing in the scene since CARGO.
A girl pops up through the top of the kissing booth like a tank commander.
The booth is one of the new purpose-built designs, not like the wooden stalls that were popular back when I was first done: a sleek ribbed metal oval tube, containing a seat that puts the average woman head and shoulders above the top. There's enough space at her feet for a chaste to kneel and do his thing.
The girl meets my eyes, blushes, looks away. She's young and square looking, with big glasses and long mouse blond hair she doesn't know what to do with. Whoever is at her feet does know what to do. The girl's eyes widen in mingled shock and surprise. She grips the rim of the booth and arches back against the padding.
My chastity cage clenches around my dick and I remember why I found this life so addicting, and why I had to escape it.
A woman with cropped hair and facial piercings sidles up and positions herself where the girl can see her. Sometimes aspiring Virgos just discover their aversion to dick masks a preference for pussy. I wonder who will go home with whom tonight.
And there's Shona, the tall Scottish woman , bushy red hair like a beacon above the dance floor. I weave through --- another pinched buttock, a boozy kiss on the mouth I wipe off with my sleeve --- and find she's slow dancing with a much younger woman who's looking at her like she's a vision of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
Chantelle spins into my space and greets me with a soppy kiss. Her big breasts crush into my chest. My hips convulse, as if they could drive my cock free of its cage. (It can't, thank god. Damaging the cage generates lot of heat... the kind you don't want conducting through your PA hook into your pierces penis.)
I lean closer and shout in her ear. "I want you! Let's go home."
She laughs and dances into me, so I have to back away like one of those airport ground crew waving flags at oncoming airliners.
Behind her, Colleen is in the middle of a knot of young chastes. I can see why. There's a restrained abandon about the way she dances --- expansive body language, but little movements --- and her wild white-streaked hair fluoresces in the light. She just oozes volcanic sex.
I manage to get my hands on my wife's swaying hips. "I want you!"
She grins and takes my hand.
We're heading for the door then home --- at last!
No we're not.
Chantelle veers off into a vacant kissing booth.
I let her pull me inside. The door slides closed behind me.
She hangs up her handbag.
I lean close. "We just got married. I want to go home and have sex."
She giggles and hikes up white dress hem to creamy bare thighs and a naked crotch: no underwear. She hops up onto the padded perch, lodges her heels into the footrests. "Catch!"
The egg vibrator plops out of her vagina.
I duck to catch it. It's warm and sticky on my palm. My penis heaves and I drop to my knees on the rubber tiles.
Now I'm eye to eye with Chantelle's smooth shaved pussy. Her pink inner lips are an inviting fulling between the plump outer ones.
I duck forward, mouth open.
She flops her legs over my back. Her heels scrape my ribs through my shirt.
I fasten on her vulva, suck.
The juices run into my mouth. The sensation coils down my spine, turns my groin into a knot of throbbing lust.
I lash my tongue up through her slit. With practice ease, I find her clitoris, flick it.
Her thighs tighten on my ears, muffling the pounding dance music.
Another flick, and another.
Her legs tense, her heels gouge my back. She thrusts her groin into my face.
The world twists and its like my rigid penis is trying to turn itself inside, or explode or...
Chantelle groans loud enough to be heard over the music.
I working my tongue.
Her groan wobbles, comes in waves, turns into a cry.
I kneel back, stare at the glistening pink slit and now-bulging inner lips.
Chantelle drops off the perch, rearranges her skirt. "Go clean up!" She steps around me and slips back onto the dance floor.
It's one O'clock in the morning when Shona's partner finally picks us up. Colleen has vanished with two Chastes, and Shona herself has gone home with that younger girl, so it's just us. "Don't you mind?" I ask.
He shrugs. "It's what I do."
Before I can ask more questions, Chantelle kisses me.
I get another kiss in the elevator to her apartment.
She heads to the bathroom. I hurry to the bedroom and strip off to my magic boxers. I quick rummage in my toy bag and I have the prosthetic installed. I turn as my wife enters the room.
Chantelle screams, puts her hand to her mouth.
"It's just a dildo," I say, rising.
She laughs. "Oh sorry. It just looks so realistic I thought..." She pings it. "It does look real."
I contemplate the silicone penis. "I had my dick scanned before I got done." I pinch its foreskin over the purple head, then let it ruffle again. "Of course I don't have one of these any more. So it's a kind of monument..."
Chantelle dimples. "I'm sure it's very special, but I need to go to sleep."
"But you promised me sex!"
"But it won't do me either of us any good."
My shoulders slump. "We could have come home earlier. It's our wedding night."
"What part of Asymmetric Partnership don't you understand. Shut up about it."
The harsh tone is new and makes my penis twitch in its cage. But she's serious.
I turn away and start extracting the replica penis from my magic boxers. As it comes free, I let out a long sigh.
"Right, that's enough," says Chantelle. "You can sleep on the couch."
"On our wedding night!" I realise I'm whining. I try to sound more manly and alpha. "No. It's our wedding night. I'm your husband. We can at least sleep together."
Chantelle... slaps me.
I feel the pain, then see the big white hand come in in slow motion, then feel the pain again.
I put a hand to my cheek. My cock flexes in its cage, but I'm not having this. "You don't get to just slap me. We're having an argument, not doing a scene."
"Slap you?" Chantelle puts her hands on her wide hips. "Go get your stocks. I'm going to spank you."
"What? No!
Chantelle picks up the phone. "Oh, really?"
Fifteen minutes later, the Police arrive to take me off to a men's hostel.
As I try to settle in my narrow bunk I realise I should have vetoed the Domestic Safety clause. It's only when I try to buy a coffee in the morning that I also realise I should have paid more attention to the Financial Matters section. I have no access to my account, not even my Basic Income.
Just as CARGO intended, I have all the rights of a runaway Victorian wife and it sucks.
The sound of a car engine wakes me from dreams of my odd, disappointing wedding night. The rear of Hannah's house is a regular sun trap and I'm too hot and dozy to move.
Male voices echo from the garden passage. I remember Hannah's threat and my miserable month in the Men's Hostel
I leap out of the deckchair but Hannah is already leading two private security guards through the garden gate into the little half-courtyard.
"This is my husband." Hannah has her phone out and isn't even trying to hide the fact that's she's reading from a script. "He is behaving out of character and I feel unsafe."
One of the guards is big and looks like an ex soldier. He approaches me, hands out as if calming a wild animal "Don't worry, ma'am. We'll whisk him away for you."
"It's OK," I say. "I'll go into my cell."
"His ‘safe space’, he means." Hannah sounds utterly unconvincing. "Not a cell. That would be bad and wrong."
"Yes," I say. "I mean my safe space."
So I have to strip off under the bored gaze of the guards and enter what must have started out as a utility room and let Hannah slide shut the grille.
I listen while sees the guards out. Then she reappears in my doorway. "Three days will give you time to adjust."
"That's cats!" I say. "It's cats you do that with."
"I think you'll find that it also applies to neutered husbands."
"I'm chaste, not neutered."
"Actually..." She checks her phone. "It will have to be five days, because I don't have time to give you a flogging until the weekend."
She starts to shut the outer door.
"Wait, flogging?"
"Of course. That's what I said would happen.”
This story takes place in Year 25! I love the idea of my CARGO tales chronicling the impact of the Consenting Adults Relationships, Gender and Orientation Act by telling the stories of a cast of dominant women over the decades of mainstream permanent male chastity.
So, Shona from Shona’s Surprising Slave (Year 0) also features as a mentor in Fall in Chastity (year 20 - coming out later this year), as does RedRunner from the original Bradley Jones’s Chastity (Year 15), which also features a walk-on role for Sarah from Sarah Makes Her Marriage Chaste (also Year 15).
I think Angela’s adventures would make another great side story. However, who would you like to see more of? Let me know in the comments…
3 words HOT HOT HOT!