Chaste Convenience Chapter 14

A Femdom coming of age in the CARGO 'verse, where the NHS installs permanent chastity devices!

(See the rest of the chapters so far)

Chapter 14

Jane doesn’t mention the DongThong(tm) again that morning.

Christmas dinner is Catherine plus the usual waifs and strays from Jane’s university life. Most Gen-C like me, they’re not bothered by my collar --- in fact this year one of the boys is sporting a black glass one just like mine --- but we’ve nothing in common and they don’t really include me in the conversation even though I’m fully dressed... unlike Catherine’s current slave who mostly stands in the corner naked in full manikin mode.

Catherine’s slave is a blond guy, looks about 18 --- god was I that young --- , skin pale and flawless, which sort of clashes with the gold-tinted collar that signals he’s a 10-year Neuter. The tone of the chastity cage is a good match, though, so he really does look like a manikin waiting for some window dresser to ease him into sportswear and a nice pair of trainers.

I can see why people find it so easy to ignore me when I’m in that mode!

The guests certainly don’t notice the naked teenager when he waits at table. They do notice my cooking and everybody praises Jane. She just grins as if she’d done the work.

I beat them all roundly at Cluedo though. So there.

Then a final round of drinks. Catherine giggles a lot and somehow makes Jane laugh. Everybody has a good time.

At last we’re alone together and doze in front of It’s a Wonderful Life, before I take to my cell and dream of Catherine’s long legs and Jane’s wide-mouthed dirty grin.

Boxing Day, we go for an urban walk all the way out through the suburbs to the stables, where the matronly 60-something Jessica invites us in and has her “gelding” serve us mulled wine. He’s actually a capon --- gold collar, permanently chaste --- like Catherine next-door’s slave, but in his 50s. We sit by the Christmas tree like two normal couples and admire their family photos: two adult girls, one of whom appears to be married to an OG Chaste with a smokey glass collar.

“Extraction and artificial insemination, of course,” says Jessica. “William wanted to do it the ‘natural way’, but I said what was good enough for horse breeding, was good enough for this brood mare --- hah what?”

Jane laughs.

“So how did you two meet?” I ask.

William tops up Jessica’s wine, “I was doing a summer job at Jessica’s stables.”

Jessica guffaws. “He had this appalling crush on me! But you see, I was running a stud back then and saw quite enough penises in my day job. And I told him that.”

“The CARGO Act had just passed,” says William. “Becoming a Chaste was my way around her objections.” He grins. “And here we are.”

“Hang on!” I blurt. “That was like thirty years ago.”

“Thirty three,” corrects William.

“But Chaste is only supposed to run for five!”

“That’s what he kept saying...” Jessica finds all this hilarious. “...every two bloody years until I gave him an ultimatum. The Capon status came along just in time to save our marriage.”

I glance at William in his gold collar.

He just nods in agreement.

I have an uncomfortable mental image of what his genitals must look like, the uniquely sleek Capon device concealing a penis which has part-merged with the urethral plug so the two can never be disentangled.

I shudder, but of course my Useless Composite Organ tightens horribly.

“Marvellous aren’t they?” says Jane as we walk home.

“Yes,” I say. “Thirty three years...”

“Real devotion,” she says, taking my hand.

I walk on in silence, wondering if he ever tried to leave, and if so what happened when Wellness brought him back.

The next day, Jane drags me out to the early New Year Sales and there are more presents for me: new winter corduroy trousers, a nice shirt and sweater, and shiny brogues. “For our date.”

That evening finds me waiting anxiously for her in a swish restaurant, while the waitresses hide their smiles at my shiny black collar, which certifies to all that my cock is pinned in a chastity cage I cannot remove.

Jane actually ordered me to make my own way here through the winter weather so it will be like a proper date!

Half an hour late, she gets out of a taxi and sweeps into the place. Somebody takes her coat and---

Jane looks so much her age and comfortable with it that I get hard inside my chastity cage just watching her pace closer in a pair of high-heeled slippers most certainly not designed for the outside in winter.

She’s wearing her elegant black trouser suit, with her hair up and dangly gold earrings and a matching necklace she almost never puts on. Her makeup is flawless, her lips red, the permanent arch of her eyebrows emphasised, the crinkles around her eyes just making them seem bigger and brighter. Her nose is still a little turned up, but only if you know to look.

I rise, glad that my chastity cage prevents me from having a visible erection.

“Sorry I’m late, Esc--- Escher,” she says, slipping into her chair. “Have you looked at the menu?”

So we settle to this weird romantic meal, me visibly collared in black and not so secretly caged, Jane cougar hot, and looking every bit the full fifteen years my senior that she is. I can’t believe I’ve seen this sophisticated woman naked, fingered her till she’s squirted, sucked her pussy until my mouth was full of her juices.

What the fuck am I supposed to talk to her about?

The sleet spatters the window like Father Winter is trying to jerk off in our faces.

Not that I make that joke.

Or any other joke.

We used to have a spiky banter, but that’s gone.

The chaotic love lives of my hair stylist colleagues don’t really interest her any more.

I try, “How’s Empress Theodora?”

But that earns me a diatribe about strong women in history, and the misogynist fantasies they accrue.

At least she likes the book.

I think.

Then Jane asks, “How’s your family?”

I dropped by my folks just before Christmas. “Noisy and chaotic,” I say. “They’ve turned my old room into a sort of craft space where shit goes to die.”

Jane purses her lips.

I shouldn’t have said shit.

Quickly I ask, “Are you applying for that internship?”

“Yes,” she says.

“What exactly does the CARGO Agency do?”

“Tighten the law,” says Jane. “Keep CARGO ticking over. Too technical to explain.”

How the fuck do I Active Listen that? Too technical to explain, how?

Jane and orders another glass of wine. “What will you do next year?” She glances at the time, then sits back and a cold bare toe slips under the hem of my cords and teases my ankle.

My mouth goes dry. My penis gets really hard, really fast. Suddenly it’s heaving against its cage. I’m pretty sure this is just what she thinks normal people on dates do. Even so, I’m suddenly looking forward to wriggling into my DongThong(tm) and trying my luck with the prosthetic penis.

“Well?” prompts Jane, caressing with that toe. What I really want to do is dive under the table and suck it.

“Not... um sure yet.” I say. Because I’m not, and thinking about it conjures up this void in my stomach.

“Poor Escher,” say Jane, withdrawing the foot. “It can’t be that bad.”

“I’ll find my feet...”

Jane laughs --- she thinks I was making a joke --- and the teasing foot returns. “One of them, maybe.”

We order desert, a spicy chocolate goo with ice cream.

“Nice,” she says.

“I think I can make this at home.”

“You should.”

“I shall.” I have six more months of pampering her. I’m going to make them unforgettable.

Then I pay the bill --- with her money --- and we take a taxi back. A short run through the rain and we’re in the shelter of the front porch of Hyppolyta House.

Jane mounts the first step and turns, face on the level with mine. “Well...”

Oh God, she’s going to say what a crap date this was and tell me I’m spending the next 48 hours in the cell.

Jane’s eyes hood. “Aren’t you going to kiss me good night, Escher?”

I haven’t kissed anybody --- not on those lips --- for three and a half years. I put my hands around her waist. There’s not much to feel through the winter coat, but I pull her to me.

Jane’s icy hands go around the back of my neck, clamping my glass collar into my skin.

Our noses bump.

Jane giggles, tilts her head.

Our lips touch. Her’s are cold and tacky with lipstick.

My stomach turns to water. I’ve jerked off over fantasies of Jane for as long as she was Wayne’s mum’s lodger, but I never imagined just kissing her. What do I even do?

She opens her mouth a little, then closes it, chewing my lips with hers.

I copy her and we sort of mouth each other for a minute or so.

Then her teeth gnaw my lower lip.

My Useless Composite Organ makes its presence felt, and my hips twitch.

I risk a flick of the tongue over her teeth.

Her tongue teases mine.

And then we’re snogging, really snogging, tongues slithering up a vortex while my caged groin pulses so hard against its prison that it stings.

Jane twists her face free. “Do you want to come in, Escher?” Still following the script.

“God yes!”

OK I know we’re only role-playing a vanilla couple, but now I really really want to fuck her. It’s like we’ve stepped into another universe where we are just lovers.

She takes my hand and we giggle our way up the two flights of steps.

Now we’re kissing on her --- our! --- doorstep.

Then inside the studio apartment, her chewing my ear, tonguing it wetly so my Useless Composite Organ throbs forlornly, reminding me of how very long it is since I jerked off.

Jane nudges me towards the bathroom. “Why don’t you... freshen up while I slip into something... more comfortable?”

My erection shrivels in its cage.

Oh shit!

We’re about to have sex.

HELP!

While you’re waiting for the next story, discover Ryan’s origin story!