Chastity People

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

HOUSEKEEPING! New Year, and a new series set in my CARGO’verse. No need to read any of the other stories to make sense of this one.)

As with Shona’s Surprising Slave, I’ll initially serialse Chastity People for free, but I may decode to give early access to the ever increasing band of lovely people who support my work with a paid subscription.

You can still subscribe for free to get a discount when I publish the polished ebook versions of my stories, plus my substack articles in your inbox. This puts you on my confidential mailing list, which is bound by the usual data protection laws.

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Chapter 1

It’s fifteen years since the Consenting Adults Relationships, Gender and Orientation Act ("CARGO"), around about the same time as the events of Bradley Jones’s Chastity.

Special NHS clinics now routinely install permanent male chastity devices. “Chaste” is a recognised identity and the law now supports a range of marriage and partnership styles, some of them very unequal indeed.

Gen C - the CARGO Generation — is coming of age…

The Ada Lovelace Lecture Theatre doors opened and the square filled with the Business Studies girls of Freya Stark Residential College.

There were blokes in there too, interlopers in masculine jeans and chinos. However --- as Milo observed through the window of the campus coffee shop --- he had eyes only for the women; knee length boots scuffing through the early autumn leaves, knitted hats and berets making every face cute, scarves and baggy jumpers softening every figure into a huggable bundle of femininity.

Milo's newly installed glass collar suddenly seemed too tight. He set down his coffee and clenched his fists, forced himself not to reach inside his turtle neck to pull at the seamless hoop that encircled his throat. That would do him no good. Worse, the girls would see the collar and know that he had an equally new Artemis chastity cage clamped to his pierced manhood.

...which was why he could look at them all, but not touch.

Not for five years, which hadn't seemed so bad when he'd signed up for the scholarship.

A year to cover his Foundation Course, three for his Degree, and a final year for his Masters, and all funded without having to go cap-in-hand to his parents who thought studying English Literature was a waste of time. He'd be debt free and uncaged at twenty three.

The perfect solution.

Only he couldn't take his eyes off all those boots.

A group of three girls and guy paused outside. Milo recognised Nell from high school, a skinny girl with long brown hair and a habit of crossing her booted ankles as she talked. He'd always had a thing for her... but from afar. That wasn't going the change.

Oh god, and there was sharp-tongued Kiera, the buxom girl who had always teased him for being a "posh twat".

"Milo my lad!" Another guy slipped into the chair beside him.

Milo blinked, processed. "Bloody hell, Ryan. I didn't recognise you."

Gone was Ryan's lank Heavy Metal hair and faded black Flayer hoody zipped up under the chin. Instead Milo's friend was sporting a new haircut and and a V-neck sweater that made no pretence of hiding his glass collar. "I had a makeover."

Milo tugged his turtle neck up a little higher to better hide his collar. He glanced around then leaned closer. "You've come out."

"My hairdresser was very persuasive."

"Your hairdresser?"

"Stylist, actually," said Ryan. "The one on the corner by the main gate. You should try her."

Outside the window, Nell was tugging the sleeve of the guy. All four of the group headed towards the caf .

Milo hastily turned away. "That's pricey," he said. "The hairdresser, I mean."

Ryan gave a cheeky smile. "She was very keen to give me a discount." He took out his phone. "So, I've switched on my app."

"Oh," said Milo. "I'm not sure I've got your courage." He peered at his friend's phone. "You don't have any messages yet anyway,"

"Mate! It's before lunch!"

"The whole chaste dating scene is big city phenomenon," said Milo. "You'll only embarrass yourself trying it here."

"Oh look," said a female voice --- Kiera, holding her phone up. "I've found one of them eunuchs. OMG it's Milo!"

Seated next to her, Nell had the grace to blush.

Milo realised his own cheeks were burning. How did Kiera know about the chastity device?

"Nah, hen," said Ryan, standing. "I am Spartacus... except I'm actually... HornDog88!"

Kiera's eyes blazed with a malicious glee. "Not much chance of a horn! You can switch your app off. Nobody wants you."

"If chastes give you the ick, how come you're using HrLckr?" (Ryan pronounced it her licker, and really leaned into the lick part.)

"Pervert detector," said Kiera with a hoot.

The others at her table laughed, even Nell, who caught Milo's eye then looked away.

But now the buxom Kiera was leaning back in her chair in a way that gave Milo a view down her ample cleavage.

He tried not to stare, but the distraction was enough. Kiera's hand shot out and tugged at the neck of his sweater, uncovering the glass collar that sat like a choker just below his Adam's Apple.

"I knew it!" said Kiera. "Another perve. Always something weird about that one. Do you boys dry hump each other then cry yourselves to sleep?"

"Enough," said Milo.

Everybody was looking at him.

"Stop harassing us," he said firmly.

"No such thing for chastes," said Kiera. "Not officially."

She was right, of course. Chastes counted as "male adjacent but not actually sexed", which meant they had been left out of most of the protections laid out twenty years ago by the very CARGO bill that had created the Chaste identity (amongst others). There was always talk of CARGO 2, but never seemed to be parliamentary time for it.

Milo squared his chin. "Well it's still rude and childish." He looked straight at Nell. "And you're better than this."

"You're better than this," mimicked Kiera. "Posh twat."

"Pardon me," drawled a deep husky female voice. "Sorry for interrupting..."

Everybody turned. The entire coffee shop fell silent.

A middle-aged blond woman had approached unnoticed and she was sex on two legs.

Cougar sex.

Her bobbed hair emphasised her elegant neck, which in turn drew the eye to the honeyed flesh of her exposed cleavage. Her flawless make-up made no attempt to hid the creping around her throat, nor the deep laughter lines crinkling around her eyes. However, these theoretical imperfections combined with the figure-hugging leopard print dress and expensive knee length boots to create a vortex of sophistication and maturity.

All that plus the voice and, the woman was indeed mature sex on two shapely legs.

Milo' chastity cage seemed to scrunch his penis. He opened his mouth to say something charming, failed.

"...but," continued the interloper in a drawl so fruity that it actually made Milo's caged penis leak, "I was wondering if one of you was HornDog88?"

Everybody else seemed equally poleaxed. Nell didn't know what to do with her eyes. The bloke next to her - boyfriend? --- looked like his eyes were going to pop. Kiera appeared to be in a state of shock.

And the other two dozen or so students in the coffee shop were all staring in silence.

"That's me, darlin'," said Ryan, looking her up and down unashamedly. "You must be CougarVamp."

"I'm parked illegally," drawled CougarVamp. "But I hope you're not one of those young people who has ethical objections to sports cars?"

"Love 'em," said Ryan. "What you got?"

"Oh, 1972 E Type Jag. Open-topped, naturally."

"Natch." Ryan grabbed his coat. "Let's go before you get a ticket."

"How very thoughtful... I'm staying at the Manor Hotel just up the road. Do you have to be back tonight?"

"Nah, it's Friday, innit?"

And with that they were gone, leaving the coffee shop in silence.

"Well fuck," said Kiera.

Then everybody was talking.

Milo turned back to the window in time to see CougarVamp sweep off in the direction of the access road, yellow blond hair crisply radiant in the noon sun.

"Fuck," he muttered. Then, eyes half closed so he wouldn't have to see himself do it, Milo brought up the HrLckr app, took a selfie and went live.

Nothing happened.

Evening found Milo playing the grand piano in the chapel in the old part of the college that had once been a hospital. There was no sign of Ryan so he had nobody to have a pint with, and he always felt better for an hour on a keyboard, wrapping himself in music.

At last, he brought the sonata to a crashing close, enjoying the privacy to be really melodramatic.

Somebody clapped.

Milo swivelled round on the piano stool, and there was Nell standing in aisle between the rows of plastic chairs, looking a little awkward with her booted ankles crossed. A black long-sleeved dress clung to her figure, showed off her flat tummy and the way her hips flared from a narrow waste. The dress ended at her knees so there was a flash of skin between boot top and hem; a promise of long bare legs all the way up under the skirt.

"Very nice," she said.

"Oh." Milo felt himself blush. "It's just Moonlight Sonata. Almost a clich . But I know it by heart so it's my go to."

"Well, I can just about manage Chopsticks," said Nell. She treated him to a toothy grin that really didn't go well with the sleek man-hunter dress. Milo realised she had no idea how sexy she looked. It was just fashion to her.

"Some people play video games," he said. "I play the piano."

"You're pretty self-effacing for a..." She squinted at her phone. "Byronic Epicurean."

"Oh..." Milo flushed. "That's just the first user name that popped into my head. I suppose I'll change it later."

"You can't," said Nell. "You're stuck. Forever." She rolled that last word for added drama and giggled.

"Only for five years," said Milo.

"Yeah, that." Nell clip-clopped closer. The boots made her hips swing, setting up a sympathetic twitch in Milo's chastity cage. "I mean, why?" she said. "I always thought you were such a nice boy."

"It made me eligible for an Artemis Scholarship," said Milo. "Which I needed."

"I thought your folks were rich?"

"It's complicated."

"It always is with posh folks." Nell stepped up onto the low stage and leaned on the piano like an old style nightclub singer. She giggled and said, in a pretty good Swedish accent, "Play it again, Sam."

Milo swung round on the stool. A quick arpeggio and he was into the song from the old movie --- a relic from his Jazz phase.

After a verse, Nell drew herself up and started to sing, soft "la-la-la-la-la" at first, then louder with the words as if she'd forgotten who she was, where she was.

The acoustics twined her voice around Milo like a net. He didn't look at the keyboard as he played, just stared up at her, so close, so far. The black dress clung to her closed thighs, creating a triangular dimple over her crotch. It would be very easy to imagine her naked...

He was imagining her naked. Tanned skin, maybe a neat pubic bush. And he would masturbate over this later... except he couldn't.

His penis heaved against its cage in folorn protest.

"A kiss is just a kiss..."

He could smell Nell's perfume and a whiff of some sweet alcohol. She hadn't seemed drunk, but maybe she'd had a drink before tracking him down.

What did she want?

There eyes met and she trailed off.

Milo let his fingers rest on the keyboard. "So what did you come for?"

She stiffened, spell broken.

Wrong thing to say! Idiot! Idiot!

"I came to apologise," said Nell. "Even if you were a perv, it wasn't fair and I should have spoken up."

"I don't need anybody to defend me," said Milo.

"No, but it wasn't right. It's not who I am."

"OK," said Milo. "It's fine. Thanks for the apology." He twiddled a couple of notes. "Maybe I could buy you a drink?"

"Oh," said Nell. She squirmed, making her crossed boots creak. "I..."

"I'm an embarrassment," said Milo. "You don't want to be seen with me."

Her eyes narrowed. "You don't get to guilt me."

The chastity cage seemed to slacken. "Oh goodness, no." He stood up so they were eye-to-eye. "I didn't mean it that way. I just... I'm not good at fitting in. I'm a liability. I get that. That's why I stick to pianos and boardgames. You really really don't have to defend me or hang out with me."

"Oh Posh Boy..." She put a hand to his cheek. "You're not so bad. What about the other artsy types on the Communications course?"

"Not so artsy. It's all digital journalism and influencing."

"Well when you get to university..."

"Yeah. I will find my tribe. I know. And in the mean time, since Ryan has... decamped---"

Nell sniggered and her whole body seemed to ripple. "That cougar was pretty mind blowing. Were you jealous?"

"I think everybody was," said Milo. "Even some of the women."

Nell flushed intriguingly.

Milo's groin, in turn, tightened painfully. He sat back down at the piano keyboard. "Since Ryan's not here for a beer, and we've established I would be toxic for your reputation, I shall return to my practice, and you will go clubbing as is the correct and natural order of things."

"Well if you put it like that." She leaned around and kissed his forehead. "You're sweet, really."

He did not turn as she clip-clopped away. Instead, he relished the wet spot on his brow and plunged into a Strauss Waltz that always made him think of beautiful girls swirling around some Austrian palace, except they all looked like Nell.

Behind him, the chapel door slammed, then slammed again.

Boots thundered back up the aisle.

He turned in time to meet Nell's lips as she grabbed his shoulders and stooped to press her face into his while strands of her long brown hair got in between them.

Wet lips squished into his. Her teeth nipped and gnawed sending wild electricity down his spine into his caged groin.

Milo managed to get the piano's lid closed so he could rest his back against it. He grabbed her by the narrow waist and drew her onto him.

Nell hiked up her skirt and got astride his lap, thighs bare, groin pressing down on his so he could feel the heat of her despite the jeans the boxers and the cage itself.

The blood dizzied out of Milo's brain leaving him with only a hopeless lust that made him whimper and groan.

Nell made a mewling sound in her throat. Her fingers slid inside the back of his tell-tale glass collar, tightening it against his throat. She shoved her tongue into his mouth, deep so that he tasted cocktails and garlic.

Milo let go of her waist and shifted his hands to the outside of her bare thighs.

He'd never touched a woman there... or anywhere before... but she was as smooth as his most febrile nocturnal imaginings. He slid his hands under her furled skirt, cupped the cooler flesh of her buttocks.

Of there own accord, his hips thrust up at her as if he had a working penis that could turn his first kiss into his first fuck.

Nell gasped. Her weight shifted. She ground her pussy against his chastity cage, making little circling motions that made her breasts wobble under their black sheath. Her tongue withdrew and she switched to biting his lip while the breath hissed through her nostrils.

Another mewl then a whimper. Nell detached her mouth from his. She arched away from her, hair trailing, nipples stood out like thimbles as if she were coated in black crude oil. "Oh god oh god oh GOD!" Her orgasmic cry echoed around the chapel, bored into Milo's neutered groin.

Milo shuddered in sympathy, but he was still hopelessly, uselessly, thirstily hard in his chastity cage. He sobbed, "Oh god!" echoing her cry but without the release of climax... there would be no climax.

Nell blinked at him. Her eyes widened. She sprang off his lap, straightened her skirt. A whimper an she had fled the chapel.

This time the door slammed just once, leaving Milo with his piano and his aborted erection and a sudden crushing sense of how very long five years could be.

While you're waiting for the next chapter, read a romance set in Year 15 of the CARGO'verse!!