Bradley Jones's Chastity - Chapter 11 (Free Read!)
Femdom romance in a world where Chaste is an identity and the NHS installs permanent chastity devices.
A summer’s afternoon and I’m strolling back from the hotel car park through the grounds and feeling like I truly belong: casual blazer over linen shirt, khaki slacks, and barefoot canvas sneakers. Like a good boyfriend, I’ve deposited Lydia at the hotel’s main entrance with the suitcases and gone off to deal with the hire car.
I meet several groups of guests heading the other direction. None of them so much as glance at my glass collar --- it’s non-reflective and must be invisible in this glare. I do, however, get some envious looks at the big key fob of the MG roadster Lydia rented.
It’s been nearly six months, and she has made me feel like a good boyfriend... and more than that. I’m past the tipping point of my final year as a chaste. If I can get an appointment in December and have them leave the grommet in to reduce healing time, we can have sex under our first Christmas tree... real sex, no silicone prosthetic, no cage.
My penis hardens in its Artemis Chaste Maker device, and I imagine the feel of her silky vagina squeezing not my fingers but the shaft of my dick. It will have been worth the entire five years and a permanent hole in my manhood just to arrive at this point.
“Gosh, excuse me. Bradley isn’t it? I just want to say thanks so very much.”
A middle aged woman with long mouse brown hair and an Alice band blinks up at me with wide oddly innocent eyes.
“Uh,” I say, coming to a halt slightly too close.
There’s a Virgo pride badge - the c symbol for the star sign - pinned to the lapel of her blouse next to a Christian fish symbol. She’s holding hands with another woman of a similar age but a brash blond in a canary yellow dress, who looks me up and down like I’m a piece of meat. She’s also flaunting a Virgo symbol, but it’s tattooed on the top of her left breast.
Have I serviced either of them? There have been so many...
The square one blinks. “Sarah Liemann? We met at the Capon Launch.”
Now I do remember. “Oh, the gallery opening. Nice to see you again.”
Sarah is too close for me to go around without being rude. She doesn’t step aside, though. “This is Joy.” She tugs the blond’s hand and I see Sarah is still wearing her wedding ring. “Darling, you can thank Bradley for our happy arrangement. He’s the one that spoke so inspiringly about the whole chastity thingy.”
“Oh aye,” says Joy, in a nasal Scottish accent. “It’s yourself. Mr Disposable Interactive Porn Guy. Sarah made me watch the video.”
I flush. “Video?”
“Aye, you’re a legend in the Virgo community.”
A passing car breaks up our huddle.
“Gosh,” I say. “My girlfriend is waiting for me. I had better go. Nice to run into you both! Cheers!”
Behind me, Joy says something sharp sounding, and Sarah lets out a snort of laughter.
I... have no idea what that was about.
But here’s the hotel --- an actual converted country house. There’s a proper portico, and statues in the cool entrance hall.
It’s like I’m walking into the Downton Abbey TV series!
The pretty blond receptionist catches my eye, flushes winningly. I’m about to ask her what happened to my girlfriend when aristocratic female voice inquires, “Shouldn’t you be using the servants’ entrance, Bradley?”
I flush and turn to the speaker.
Caroline is leaning against a fluted marble column. Her big eyes regard me over the top of a her phone, which she clutches in one elegant hand. Her sweet red gingham frock leaves her long calves bare all the way down to a pair of strappy flat-soled sandals that show off two neat rows of toes. The nails are lacquered the same deep red as her naturally pouting lips, which --- I remember --- is the same deep red as her more private lips... the ones waiting between slender thighs under the flimsy fabric of her frock.
And what is the terrifying lawyer doing here? She’s not class of 2020.
My hips twitch reflexively. My caged groin becomes a knot of lust and it’s hard to think. How can one woman have this effect on me? I manage to stammer, “Servants’ entrance?”
“Well...,” Caroline lowers her phone to scrutinise me. “I wager, that’s how my ex wife is treating you.”
I flush. Now I think about it, Lydia does have me running the odd errand for her. I mean, she’s a busy advertising executive. Sometimes she needs me to run out and get sandwiches for her at lunchtime. Or pick up dry cleaning. And, OK, I have taken to leaving food in her fridge for the nights I’m not there.
“As a matter of fact,” I say, firmly, “we’re very happy together.”
“Evidently your paraphilia goes beyond mere masochism,” says Caroline. “If I’d known, I would have had you clean my kitchen before I dismissed you.”
“Caroline?” A posh male voice.
A manly posh male voice.
Oh shit, it’s Roger. He is class of 2020. No, please no...
Roger strides over and puts an arm round Caroline’s willowy waist. He’s pulled off the country casual look like he belongs, like they belong together, and she must be his date to the reunion and I hate him.
“Hello, Bradley.” He taps his neck above his elegant silk scarf.
I can’t help putting a hand to my glass collar.
“Still a Johnny-No-Dick, I see,” he says.
I flush, but he’s already turned away to address Caroline.
(I try to imagine him on Caroline’s spanking bench... but, no.)
“What happened to you darling? I thought you were behind me.”
“Oh.” Caroline glances at me --- is that an actual note of pleading in her big eyes? --- “I received a work text. So I thought I had better get it out of the way so we can enjoy our weekend together. Bradley was just asking me if I had seen Lydia.”
“Bradley?” On cue, my girlfriend clip-clops down the stairs past the fading portraits of bygone gentry. She’s a sexy earthy dream in her leopard pattern frock and bling ---
So much bling! From necklace to bracelets to golden sandals
But, it’s like a mortal come to challenge a goddess.
“Oh God,” says Caroline. “Roger, meet my ex wife Lydia.”
“Ex wife?” Roger snorts. “Pictures or it never happened.”
Caroline slaps him. “Roger!”
The sound of palm on cheek sends a jolt to my caged groin. Something wet escapes the tip of my folorn penis.
Roger merely grabs Caroline’s wrist. “Right, come with me, my girl.” He drags her off up the big staircase and she actually giggles.
And her bare legs are still sleek signposts to the joys beneath her floaty summer dress.
Next to me, Lydia lets out a hiss of breath.
We exchange guilty glances.
“Elevator,” she says.
The doors close, and she shoves me against the mirrored wall, kisses me hard, grinds her crotch against my caged groin.
I slip my arms around her waist then slide my hands down under her skirt to cup her buttocks. The cool flesh is naked under my fingers.
Her kiss turns to a gnawing action, pulling at my lips with her teeth, preventing any forays by my tongue.
I whimper into her open mouth, slide my hands between her thighs. My fingertips discover against the hot lips of her pussy.
The lift bumps to a halt.
I snatch my hands away.
The door slides open to reveal a half dozen old classmates including Minnie and her wife, tanned from their extended honeymoon.
Minnie stares, not at me but at my girlfriend. “Lydia? What are you...?”
A woman I don’t recognise cries, “OMG! Bradley’s a chaste!”
I stare at the wall of people and feel my chastity cage loosening. Talk about boner killer!
Lydia just grins cheekily at everybody. “Got to make a call! Catch you all later.”
We somehow make it into the hotel room. Net curtains soften the sunlight. There’s a retro bureau desk with a leather upholstered chair --- fit for some bearded writer to craft his magnum opus - a dining table with two armchairs and...
“Jones!”
And here’ my girlfriend sprawled across the four-poster bed, legs spread, red summer frock hiked up to reveal a neat pussy between welcoming thighs.
I hesitate. The whole stepping out the elevator to encounter old friends took the wind out my sails.
The net curtains billow. A breeze freshens the room. It carries with it the sound of a feminine cry... a familiar feminine cry, like the uncanny scream of a mating fox. Jesus! Caroline and Roger are having sex nearby, and they’ve left the window open.
I flash back to trailing my own blood across the elven woman’s home gym so I could lick her, so she could beat me some more, so that my tongue could drive her to making that sound.
I drop to my knees and burrow my face between Lydia’s thighs.
She drapes her legs over my shoulders. The heels of her sandals scrape my back.
Her pubic hair is sodden with her juices. I open my mouth wide, engulf her vulva as if trying to eat an exotic fruit, and suck.
Her musk fills my senses, tightens my caged groin, drives my tongue into a frantic licking.
More of Caroline’s cries reach us.
Lydia whimpers and shifts her hips. Her fleshy valley is a slippery, salty furrow for my tongue. Her big clitoris rises like some secret mountain shrine. “Oh Jones oh fuck oh...” She gags herself with her own arm, lets out a muffled whimper.
I lick in time to the throb of my caged groin, faster and faster.
Lydia shifts her pelvis so her hips and pale belly rise free of the red dress. “Oh bloody hell... God I love you Bradley Jones!”
Did I hear that right?
Another fox-cry from Caroline then my girlfriend unleashes her own orgasmic scream.
For a moment the two women’s cries intertwine. As always, Lydia sounds like a fair-goer who misjudged her choice of roller coaster. Caroline sounds... like something dangerous out of folklore.
Abruptly, Lydia shifts her sandalled-feet to my shoulders and pushes me back onto my knees. She sits up and rearranges her frock. Her long dark hair is all over the place. As she flicks it over her shoulders, her thin lips part and she flashes her uneven teeth. “Bloody hell. That was intense.” Her eyes twinkle. “How do you feel, Jones?”
My cock pulses. I shudder. I want to ask her about what she said. “Horny as fuck.”
“About the L word, I mean.”
“Uh. I love you too, Lydia! I would have said it back but my mouth was full.” I start to rise.
Lydia gestures. “Stay on your knees for a moment.” She squirms to rummage in her handbag, then produces a little box, the kind you put rings in.
Oh my god!
Lydia leans over, treating me to a glimpse of her cleavage, and hands me the box. “Take a look, Jones.”
With trembling fingers, I get the thing open and there’s two identical black and silver rings, each with a Greek-style geometric pattern. “What...?”
She grins. “I got us promise rings. You’re on your knees so you can offer me mine.”
“Promise rings?” I stammer.
“Not quite engagement rings,” she says. “I mean, it’s only been a few months and I didn’t want to scare you off or anything.”
“Hardly likely.” I offer her the smaller of the two rings. “Lydia Darcy, will you accept my promise ring?”
She takes it. “On the count of three. One. Two. Three!”
We each slip a ring onto our own fourth finger, the one where wedding rings go. Finally, I feel like some kind of grown up. “Can I get off my knees now?”
“Sure. Come kiss me, fish face!”
We kiss on the bed for a few minutes, which coils up the lust in my groin until I feel dizzy. I fondle a breast speculatively. “We could just stay here, skip the reunion. I could get my prosthetic...”
“You’re embarrassed about the collar.” Lydia detaches my wandering hand. “I have another surprise for you.” She rolls off the bed and unzips her suitcase. There’s a big Amazon envelope on top of her clothes. She climbs back onto the bed. Kneeling beside me, she opens the padded envelope and pulls out...
“Bolt cutters!”
I sit up. “I don’t understand.”
“Bloody Hell, Jones. You are dense sometimes. These aren’t just any bolt cutters, they’re really expensive tactical grade bolt cutters.”
“You paid extra for the camo pattern?” I say. “Still not understanding.”
“For your collar, stupid.” Lydia works the levers to open the jaws. “Hold still and I’ll get the thing off you and none of your old classmates will be any the wiser.”
I shudder and back away against the headboard. My cock, however, remains resolutely hard. “This is insane!”
Her eyes twinkle. “No it’s not. You’re thinking people have already seen. But you can straight up lie. It works fine for me all the time. Reality is what you can make people pretend to believe. You learn that in advertising.”
“But without my collar...” My voice rises as if she’d applied the cutter to my balls. She must know that, if you turn up at the clinic without your official collar, then your category changes.
“Without your collar, what?”
“I’ll be a Neuter. That’s another five years!”
Lydia shuffles closer. “But we’ve had such a lovely five months, Jones! Why not another five years? I mean, what’s going to change?” She deploys her urchin grin.
She’s practically glowing with sex. I want to just get the dildo and fuck her brains out. Instead, I get off the bed. “Just no.”
“What if - now hear me out, Jones - we got married?”
“No.” I take a step closer, hold out my hand. The promise ring does look fine. “I mean, yes to getting married, but no to being a Neuter.”
Her shoulders sag. She lowers the cutters and shifts to sag against the headboard. “You’re leaving me, then.”
My head whirls. This isn’t happening. “What? No?”
Lydia sniffs. “I’m not artistic like you. Not intellectual like Caroline. I’m just sexy at parties and fun in bed, but the novelty wears off and you’ll get bored of me, then you’ll leave me.”
“You’re much more than that.”
“People always say that. But a few shags and they’re gone.” She rolls off the other side of the four-poster and crouches to zip up her suitcase.
I manoeuvre round the bed to stand over her. “Is that what happened with Caroline? Is that what’s this about?”
“Caroline was... wanted to go to dark places.” Lydia rises, grabs her suitcase and trundles it out of the room. “Goodbye Jones.”
The door clunks shut behind her.
I stare at the bolt cutters, imagining using them, then running after her in some grand romantic gesture.
But five more years! And after that?
Was this what she had planned all along?
I am an idiot.
I slip the thing back in its envelope --- perhaps she can get her money back? I also take off the promise ring and tuck that into my suitcase.
My phone buzzes.
I check it with trembling hands.
But it’s not her.
**Minnie: Hey Jones. Where the fuck are you?
Minnie: Drinks reception. Classmates only. Partners join us for meal at 7.**
Partners.
I stare at the damp patch on the edge of the mattress. Less than half an hour ago, I had an actual partner... promise rings and all. Now I’m back to being thirty one and on the scrapheap.
Voices rumble outside the door.
Roger’s deep manly tones: “Are you sure you’ll be OK, darling?”
Caroline’s sharp lisp --- I can just picture her pouting lips: “You have fun. I shall be enjoying a lovely stroll in the grounds.”
I wander over to look out of the window.
The grounds are dotted with Grecian follies - fake temples and the like - and little stands of trees. A lot of things could happen out there if two former lovers were to have a chance encounter.
I dive into the shower.
However, as I’m cleaning my teeth, Caroline’s words come back to me: “If things worked out between us... I do rather like the sound of the new Capon identity.”
I actually did look that one up on the Artemis website --- morbid curiosity, really. The grommet is too big to be removed --- the hole will never heal over --- and the piercing hook is made of the same neo-coral so your urethra kind of merges with it. It really is irreversible.
Wow! Caroline’s shear outrageousness still gets me hard.
But, I’m done with crazy women, especially ones with weird baggage connecting them to each other.
I mean, maybe the whole thing with Lydia was because she saw me being drawn to Caroline. And Caroline, in turn, knew I worked for Lydia.
A few minutes later, with still damp hair, I’m fully dressed. I remove the gold snap on to expose the QR code on my collar. I change my status on HrLckr. I slip a medium-sized dildo into the special pouch inside my linen blazer, then I head downstairs to the party.
Single.
Chaste.
And on the prowl.
I’m going to need a new job, but at least I didn’t get trapped in a relationship with a woman who would keep me as a virtual eunuch.
And, I’m damned well going to make the most of my last few months of being a sex god.
While you’re waiting for the next episode, click through to see my other chastity erotica…
Well done Bradley, the end is in touching distance unless he gets tripped up .