Chaste Convenience Chapter 6
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 6
I get the last suitcase up the stairs.
The door’s ajar and Jane is wandering around a studio apartment. It’s airy and light and minimalist, but there’s only one bed. It takes a moment for me to realise. “Why ever did they make it queen-sized? It’s tiny!”
“Well it’s not as if we’re sharing it,” says Jane.
More’s the pity.
She’s got her back to me and she looks good in her jeans. Muscular legs and a long bottom. I’d like to bend her over and... what?
I can’t do anything to her.
And she’s not going to do anything to me either, even though the CARGOship means she practically owns me.
That was surreal, by the way. Five minutes with a notary and I’m virtual property!
No ritual! No branding.
I knew it wasn’t going to be two years of crazy kink, but this is an anticlimax.
“Well I bloody well hope we’re not sharing,” says Jane. “It’s supposed to have separate sleeping accommodation.” She gestures towards a built in wardrobe by the window. “Put it there, please.”
“Ah.” I heft the last suitcase over. My own bag is already on the kitchen counter, just some clothes I bought with the cash that hen party stuffed down my pants...
My caged groin twists itself in a knot.
Oh wow did all that licking really happen? And then Joanne...
Anyway. Stuff.
Yes.
I’ll go get the rest of my stuff from my folks eventually, but at least I have a change of clothes.
There’s a discrete mirrored door next to the one into the bathroom. I swing it open to reveal a snug padded sleeping pod with pullout WC, wash facilities and an extendable chain leash. I’ve actually masturbated over cutaways of this...
The cage really tightens around my pierced penis. The irony is not lost on me.
“What is it?” asks Jane behind me. She’s sitting on the bed testing the mattress. “Broom closet?”
“ManPod,” I say. “My ‘safe place’.”
“Good grief!” She touches her crucifix. “You can’t possibly sleep in there!”
“It’s supposed to be comfortable.”
She nods approvingly as she stands and brushes down her skirt. “Oh, at least you have done your research. Why don’t you make us some tea?”
She doesn’t know how much I enjoyed that ‘research’.
Hiding my blushes, I get the kettle boiling and start putting the food away as best I can. Everything is clean and hi-tech, but no dishwasher. Hmm...
“Well you’re certainly not sharing with me,” says Jane, still contemplating the bed. She glances my way. “No. Dried goods in the upper cupboard. Tinned food in the lower cupboard. Don’t just cram everything in!”
I flush. “Sorry.”
But Jane’s turned her attention back to sleeping arrangements. “And the couch is too small for you.” She peers into the pod and starts to go in. “I wonder if it’s really that bad...”
An alarm beeps. “Transgression! Ice Water Spray will activate when door closed.”
“Eek!” Jane leaps back. “No women allowed?”
“No clothes allowed,” I correct. “It’s a smart unit.”
“Well the idea of you sleeping naked in there makes me smart,” she says.
“Oh my god you made a joke.”
There’s her wide dirty smile. “You’re a bad influence.”
I think this whole thing is making her twitchy! She needs this to be a tranquil arrangement. “It’s OK,” I say. “We can use your bathroom as a changing room.”
Jane peeks into the other separate room. “Oh my goodness!”
Now it’s my turn to look over her shoulder. It’s a lovely tiled room with a big bath and plenty of shelves for... whatever it is that women seem to need in the bathroom.
Jane’s voice catches. “I’ve never had my own bathroom!” She glances at me. “I’m not sure you’re allowed in here at all.”
I shrug. “There are, um, facilities in my pod. So I’ll only come in here when it’s my turn to clean?”
“We shall draw up a rota. We’ll work out the bedtime routine later.”
A bubbly female voice calls out. “Knock knock!”
We both turn guiltily.
“Gosh! Sorry! The door was open.” A striking blond woman about Jane’s age is standing in the doorway and she’s basically sex on a stick --- well on two sticks.
She’s mindblowingly tall with long, long legs that run from pink-painted toenails sticking out of diamante flip-flops all the way up to where a micro-skirt cloaks off her hips like a pelmet. After that, flat bare tummy, crop top over small firm looking breasts and wreathes of bead necklaces...
And eyes the size of baby’s fists.
I get an erection just looking at her... well I don’t because, chastity device. My collar suddenly feels too tight, and I am horribly aware that I am in the company of a beautiful woman with hardware locked around my neck that broadcasts my chaste state.
“Wow,” says Jane. Then, “Sorry.”
The woman giggles and sort of shimmies. “It’s OK I get a lot of that. Mum was a model, dad’s German. It’s just genes.” She unearths a lanyard from her bead necklaces. “I’m Catherine, the warden of Hyppolyta House...” She nudges an official-looking shoulder bag I’d entirely missed. “I’ve brought you your keycards and so on.”
She chatters with Jane while she shows us around the studio apartment. Turns out she’s a junior psychology lecturer who keeps her own chaste --- an actual Ward... that’s more like being a slave, but you need to be a higher tier chaste than Companion. Brrr! Imagine going five years without a wank!
Catherine makes a point of showing me the actual broom closet and the heating controls, and where the manuals for the appliances are kept. And, no, no dishwasher.
Then she turns to Jane. “I see you’ve found the cell. Remember, even if you like a bedwarmer, there’s nothing stopping you tossing him in there if you have an overnight guest. Any problems, the Safety Team will come and do it for you in about 15 minutes.”
“Overnight guest?” Jane is shocked.
“Not any sort of man, of course,” says Catherine. She laughs. “But why would you? No point is the point, as they say.”
Jane’s lips purse. “I don’t follow.”
Their eyes meet. Catherine lifts one leg like a stork and somehow coils it around her other impossibly long leg. “Well, a lot of Virgos discover they like women for the same reason they like chastes.”
“That happened to me!” I blurt.
Both women ignore me.
“Well I’m not a Virgo,” says Jane.
Catherine just grins. “OK, let’s finish the guided tour. That block,” she points out a grey foam block a bit bigger than you’d expect for yoga, but too small to be a footstool, “is for when you want him to kneel for long periods.”
“Why ever would I do that?”
“Gosh. That’s a question.” Catherine blinks at Jane with her big eyes. “You might be studying or watching TV so you want him out the way but handy to get you things, so you don’t want to use the cell.”
“ManPod,” corrects Jane.
Catherine just giggles. She pulls a padded table out of the wall. “Massage table”. She pushes it back then moves to to the bathroom doorway. To its right, two bars are attached to wall-mounted sliders, one low, one high.
Oh I’ve seen a video of something like these. I take an involuntary step forward, then notice; no straps.
“If you don’t mind I’ll use the kitchen table for the next part,” says Catherine moving to pull up a chair.
“Of course,” says Jane. “What am I signing?”
“No,” says Catherine, merriment still bubbling through her words as she opens her bag. “Not you, him.” She gestures me the sit. “Let’s have your right hand.”
The tall woman gives that order in a completely flat voice, and there’s something chilling about that... which in turn tightens my chastity cage.
Catherine takes out a digital caliper and measures my wrist bones. “5a I think...” she says, clearly talking to herself. She produces a pair of plastic bracelets. “Put these on. They open sideways.”
This is like some medical fantasy.
I close the bracelets around my wrists.
“What is this?” asks Jane
“Another upgrade!” Catherine tugs and pushes at the bangles. She rummages in her bag. “Well, take them off.” Then to Jane, “Black, transparent or bronze look?”
“What? Oh...” Jane closes her eyes in thought. Then. “Bronze would look classical.”
“Classical?” Another giggle as Catherine produces a polythene envelope containing a pair of hinged cuffs that look like ribbons of solid bronze. “Put these on.”
This is intriguing. They’re actually in hi-tech glass like my collar, but they have two small holes in the surface, top and bottom. They snap on easily enough.
“Male jewellery suits him,” says Jane.
“Thanks,” I say, holding up my hands to inspect the finished product. They do look good. Solid. Manly, maybe, but certainly a mark of being owned. They don’t seem to be made to be removed.
“I do like a decorated chaste,” says Catherine, squirming around to look at Jane. “You must pop round to see what I’ve done with mine. Have you heard of manakinisation?”
“No?” Now Jane laughs. “I’m intrigued.”
Oh God! I’ve heard of it. Latest fashion with Virgos. I should warn Jane....
Catherine nods curtly. “Take of your shoes .”
“Oh?” says Jane.
“Just procedure.” And Catherine actually makes me put my bare feet up on the table. She gives them a squirt of icy deodorant spray, measures my ankles, then hands me bronze-look cuffs to snap onto them.
“Now I need to certify safe discipline,” says Catherine, standing so that she towers over me. Reflexively I get out of the chair, but now I feel the urge to kneel and can only stand their awkwardly.
“Pardon?” says Jane. “I don’t understand.”
Catherine laughs. “You will.” Then to me. “Strip off.”
OK this has taken a kinky turn! I rise from my chair and start pulling off my T-shirt.
Jane’s eyebrows arch. “He is not taking his clothes off.”
“Gosh?” says Catherine. “How about down to his boxers?”
“Like swimwear,” I say helpfully.
Catherine seems to find this hilarious. “Well, normally..., he’d be naked.”
Jane makes a choking sound. “Pardon?”
“Over here,” says Catherine.
Close to, the bars have attachment points for my cuffs.
I snap on my ankles, reach with my hands, snap on the wrists.
There’s a whirr and the upper bar rises a until I’m stretched, then releases a little. I’m now pinned in a taut X-position.
“Totally immobilised,” says Catherine.
And I am. I’m more helpless than I’ve ever been, and it gets me so very hard in my chastity device.
“If you have difficulties after, just call the Safety Team.”
“After what?” asks Jane.
Catherine yanks open a pull out quiver. Twisting my head, I can see it’s full of whips. “Domestic discipline.”
“Good grief, no,” says Jane.
Catherine pouts --- well I can’t see it, but I can hear it in her voice: “Just a little bit? For me? I need to verify you can follow safety procedure, otherwise the lease is cancelled.
“Cancel the lease?” wails Jane.
“It’s a liability thing. Look, there’s a cute little diagram here. It’s not complicated.” She holds out a whippy cane.
I suddenly realise I want this. It is, after all, my darkest fantasy come true, or at least part of it. I twist to look at Jane and pick my words very carefully. “It’s OK...” I smirk. “This is the kinkiest thing that has ever happened to me.”
“Gross! Jane gives an angry snort. “Now I do feel like doing it.” She takes the whip. “So on the posterior, like this?”
Bingo!
There’s a swish.
I’m wearing running pants, but they are no protection
The cane sears into me. I yelp. “Jesus!”
“Language!” says Jane.
Another cut across my buttocks.
I clench my teeth, emit a sort of constipated shriek.
Catherine giggles.
“Sorry, Escher,” says Jane. Then, to Catherine, “Satisfactory?” asks Jane.
“Shoulders, buttocks and thighs,” says Catherine, a little husky now as if she’s enjoying this. “A few strokes to show me you have the hang of it.”
Her words make my chastity cage... clench, but they also make me panic. I strain against my bonds, whimpering, “No...”
Jane lashes into me.
I squeak, try not to blaspheme.
She does it again and again, punctuating her words with strokes from above the knee to below the waist, while I squeal and yelp. “You’ve... had... this... coming... your whole life!”
“Excellent,” says Catherine. “I’ll go and update the database.”
“I’ll see you out.” Jane sounds breathy, like she’s just had sex.
While they sort of bubble at each other, I hang there on the frame, still stretched out in a taut X, my buttocks and thighs throbbing. My caged groin pulses forlornly and I want to cry. In fact I do cry. Tears trickle down my cheeks.
At the door, Jane says, “You and your partner must come round for coffee once we’re settled...”
“Partner? I don’t have one.”
“But... this is CARGO only.”
“Oh my house boy?” Catherine laughs. “God no. That would be weird. But do pop by mine to see how things are done properly... on your own. Remember the manakinisation!”
They’ve completely forgotten me!
My arms and legs are hurting by the time Jane ambles back to me. “Oh goodness! I don’t know what came over me.”
“Not me at any rate...” I joke.
“What?”
I flinch. “I mean I probably did deserve it.”
“Let me see.” Jane presses a button and the frame releases me.
She’s let my bad joke pass... or maybe she really is an innocent?
I stumble over to the sofa, try to sit, can’t.
Jane laughs. Whipping me has made her feel better. “It wasn’t as fun as you imagined from all the pornography you consume, was it?”
How does she know about the porn?
It hurt like fuck, actually, but the thought of what she did makes my pierced cock pulse in its cage.
God this is as low as I’ve ever been and...
And it feels right.
What do I really want my two years to be like? It’s the only time in my life I’ll ever be a woman’s chaste almost-slave.
“Jane,” I say. “It’s really just old fashioned discipline. In Nelson’s navy, midshipmen my age used to get caned. Maybe it’s what I need?”
Jane gives me a stern look that goes straight to my caged groin. “Well if it gets you to stop making immature jokes, possibly it’s justified.” She tilts her head towards the kitchen area. “Let’s cook a lunch together.”
My whipping has been forgotten!
Actually, the kitchen area is too cramped for two, so she ends up sitting at the little dining table while I make Spanish omelette.
“I could get used to this,” she says with a grin. “Can you shop this afternoon while I sort out academic stuff?”
“Sure. If you trust me to count... talking of which, your degree is four years, but we’re only partnering for two and you need a chaste to keep this apartment.”
“Oh,” says Jane. “I’m sure I can find a replacement chaste by then. Maybe Catherine will find me one.”