Chastity People Chapter 14

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

Read earlier chapters!

NB Continuity Changes for those who care- Zoe's house now a Victorian terraced, and her bedroom is upstairs.

The professor was actually going to beat him like a real slave.

She led the way up the stairs, garland still perched on her wild hair, scourge trailing from her hand. Her swinging bottom made her toga swish as she climbed while rain rattled on the skylight above the staircase.

Milo's penis kept time, twitching in its cage like a metronome. His over-used tongue throbbed with each step. Just how many women had he pleasured tonight?

He should go along with this long enough to get his stuff back, then flee into the night.

But his nostrils were full of the blended musk of all those vaginas. The ripe scent was like a hook, dragging him onwards.

And part of him did want to take this dark path just a little so he could see where it led... the part of him that had not had an orgasm for six months, not since the night before the operation to install the near-permanent chastity device. He couldn't even remember what it felt like.

So Milo followed the middle-aged woman up the stairs, past reproductions of pre-Raphaelite paintings of dreamy girls in floaty gowns, each step taking him closer to his fate.

On the landing, he faced a big framed poster of Zoe's 90s girl punk band. There was the lithe bass player in fishnets and a little leather mini-skirt and not much else except for mesmerising eyes.

Add another thirty years and you had...

Joyce!

Milo's penis gave a wet twitch and he had a jumbled vision of her as she was now, white haired, crinkle-face, then as she was when she was his age.

Imagine having somebody like that...

"Make way! Make way!"

Busty Anne --- still in her Wonder Woman Costume --- pushed past, leading the tall woman from early by the hand. They crashed through a bedroom door. There were more giggles as they sprawled on a bed.

Anne knelt up then burrowed under the taller woman's toga.

Milo glimpsed long legs draping over faux-leather corset.

"Bad slave!" boomed Zoe. She flicked the scourge. The knotted chords bit into Milo's thigh.

He yelped and clutched the spot, hopping on one leg. His cage went slack. "Hey!"

Zoe just laughed. "This way! Slave."

Milo turned his back on the giggles and wet sounds and limped after Zoe into her bedroom with its bordello chic and massive four-poster bed.

He glanced wistfully past her to the rucksack he'd used to stash his stuff.

Zoe turned and beamed up at him. "Take off your kilt and brace on the bed, slave."

Milo said... nothing. He tried again. I think I should go.

"Well go on then," said Zoe.

Milo hadn't actually said no out loud. Now it felt weirdly rude to let her down. He pulled the kilt down, navigated his gladiator sandals. All too soon he was naked except for them, his leather bracers, his posing pouch and the ever-present glass collar.

He carefully positioned himself in an X, feet resting against the bed legs, hands gripping the posts.

He could, he told himself, change his mind any time he liked.

Zoe ran a hand down his spine, stroked his buttocks.

Milo shuddered and his chastity cage tightened.

The rising fear was... exhilarating.

"Have you ever fantasised about this, boy?" asked Zoe.

Milo flushed. "Sometimes." His jaw ached and it was hard to talk.

Her breath was hot on his ear. "But never done it?"

He shook his head.

She reached up and fished under the drapes. There was a click!

Milo craned around to look.

She'd snapped a dog clip to his leather bracer.

He tugged experimentally, but the long leather cuff was laced in place. "I'm not sure..."

"Silence, slave," said Zoe.

Just hearing the word slave made his cage tighten.

He stood there, spread-eagled, while she secured his other wrist, then did the same to his ankles, thanks the the thick straps of the gladiator sandals. It was almost as if she'd picked his costume to make this possible...

"So," said Zoe. "You've been a very thoughtless slave. Poor Liz's chair is quite wrecked."

"Sorry, mistress," said Milo. He twisted so he could just manage to see her in the wardrobe mirror.

Zoe was still in her flowing Roman garb, complete with floral crown. The low light turned her deep cleavage into a dark valley.

"Sorry isn't good enough," she said. She raised the scourge.

There was a swish. Pain exploded through his buttocks sending fire into his caged groin. "Oh Jesus!" He strained every muscle until the leather creaked.

"Struggling won't help, slave." She struck him again. This time she caught him on the thigh and it was like having red-hot nails driven into his flesh.

Milo squealed. "Let me go!"

The music professor just laughed. "Let me go, mistress."

Raw panic rose inside Milo's gut. "Let me go, mis---"

But she hit him again, and again.

His buttocks, his thighs, then his shoulder blades.

There was no erotic blur like in his fantasies.

Each strike made him uniquely aware of itself, stole his words.

He held his breath, tried to gather enough air to tell her no, but all that came out was a long scream.

"Phew," said Zoe, pausing. "I'm not getting any younger..."

Still spread-eagled, Milo slumped in his bonds, muscles twitching, welts throbbing. Something wet was running down his thigh.

The door burst open.

"What was that scream?"

Milo twisted and the wardrobe mirror gave him a view of Anne, now with her breasts overflowing her Wonder Woman corset making owl eyes of her big nipples and areolas. She was naked below the waist, and the tall women was standing behind her, toga off one shoulder, long hair dishevelled.

"Nothing to worry about!" Zoe laughed. "I was just disciplining a naughty slave."

Milo drew breath. This was his chance to demand she let him go.

The tall woman giggled. "Really? Oh my God!" She had big teeth and a slight lisp that gave her voice a sensual wetness. She pushed into the room, all flowing toga and long hair. "Is that blood? Wow! That's so... hot."

Milo's arm started cramping, so he had to look away and face forward. "I..." he began.

But the woman talked over him. "Wish I could do that to my ex husband, the pig! Swish-swash!" She giggled.

"Be my guest, Lucy," said Zoe. "Next best thing."

"Hey!" tried Milo, but it came out as a croak.

"Gosh, yes!" The tall woman --- Lucy --- grunted. There was a hiss-thud!

New pain cut through the web of welts.

Milo whimpered. "Oh god oh god. Stop!"

"Therapy!" lisped Lucy and struck him again, setting up a grunting one-two rhythm like a tennis player.

*Hiss-thud!

Hiss-thud!*

Zoe clambered onto the bed and sat propped up watching. She patted the space beside her and Anne slipped onto the bed next to her, her breasts now overflowing her corset.

*Hiss-thud!

Hiss-thud!*

Milo inhaled through his nose, tried to focus on his breathing. But his whole face reeked of what Dr Burley had called 'cunt', and each breath only served to tighten his caged groin.

Now he could only writhe in his bonds, drowning in lust and pain, each splash of the scourge churning agony into the mix.

And yet, the room was weirdly quiet except for the sound of the scourge.

*Hiss-thud!

Hiss-thud!*

"I must say Sally is indeed pleasingly long and tall," remarked Zoe.

"Oh yes," said Anne, absent-mindedly rubbing an exposed nipple. The chunky woman was still naked from the waist down. Now --- as the scourge continued to rain down on Milo --- she reached down between muscular thighs. Her fingers brushed her a neatly trimmed bush, found the wet tongue-furrow exposing her fleshy crevice. She rubbed at the apex.

The wet clicking of finger on clitoris reached Milo's ears.

*Hiss-thud!

Hiss-thud!*

He remembered her taste from the episode on the piano stool --- honey sweet... and the texture of her inner lips as his tongue probed them and...

Hiss-thud!

The scourge bit Milo's thigh. The sharp pain brought him back to himself, shrivelled his penis in its cage. He squealed long and loud.

On the bed, Anne convulsed. She thrust her broad hips. Her fingers blurred on her vulva and she groaned. "Oh my god!" Then she shuddered and lay still.

The pain stopped.

"Gosh!" cried Lucy. There was a thud --- the scourge dropping to the floor. "I'm far too turned on to continue." She rushed past and sprawled across the bed at the other women's feet. She tugged her toga up her long legs, uncloaking her thighs, "Do me now!"

Anne rolled forward so her breasts escaped the corset and swung free. She kissed Lucy on the lips, reached down between her legs and exposed the taller woman's furry pubic triangle.

Lucy tilted her pelvis.

Anne hooked her fingers and plunged them into Lucy's vagina.

Lucy's groan was muffled by the other woman's mouth. She lay there shuddering while the fingers squelched inside her.

Each squelch made Milo's chastity device clench.

He opened his mouth to demand to be let down, but the women were so beautiful together. He could only hang in his bonds watching while the pain coruscated up and down his back and buttocks and thighs like St Elmo's Fire and his muscles blazed in agony.

Tears rolled down his cheeks and he had no idea why.

On the bed, Lucy twisted her mouth free and hauled Anne around to sit on her face while she kneaded her big breasts.

While Anne groaned and ground her way to another orgasm, Zoe rolled off the bed and moved to unclick Milo's ankles. His wrists followed and he just buckled to the floor. The carpet stung his welts so that it was like lying on a bed of nettles.

He sobbed.

Still crowned by her floral wreath, the older woman grinned down on him like an ageing Maenad.

Milo opened his mouth. I said no! I said no! You...

But on the bed, Anne reached a noisy orgasm and no words came out.

Then Zoe demurely raised the hem of her toga and sat on his face.

The wet fur of her vulva pressed into Milo's mouth. He could only lick.

Zoe's clitoris was already engorged. He ground his tongue into it.

She groaned loud and low, so the vibrations tickled his mouth. Her ripe juices cascaded from her lips, pooled in his throat.

Milo shuddered. His hips twitched as if he could hump the air.

Then there was a wet slackness in his groin and he found himself half-smothered by slippery flesh and sodden hair that reeked of seaweed.

But still he licked until she sat back with her big bare buttocks on his chest and grinned down on him. "You can finish tidying tomorrow," she said, rising. "You'd better get some soap on your back. Use the downstairs shower. You can sleep in the old maid's room above the utility room. Now..." She waved a pudgy hand. "Shoo! Be off with you."

Milo stumbled downstairs clutching his rucksack.

Giggles erupted from above him, then more of Zoe's orgasmic groans.

Milo could have tried to persuade her to let him stay for the threesome, but he had meekly let her dismiss him. And before that he hadn't needed to let her beat him, and the beating when he'd said no should have been a deal breaker... he shouldn't have meekly pleasured her when she sat on his face.

In the hall, he was assailed by Dr Burley's panting and grunting. She was loud enough for the sound to carry through her door and coax a little stiffness out of Milo's sticky penis.

Ryan was obviously still at it, servicing a woman who was rude, crude, and treated both of them like dirt.

They'd both been paid to act as costumed waiters for Zoe's party, not to whore themselves, but here they were, Ryan plying a prosthetic dick on demand, Milo with a ruined back and mouth salty with mingled vaginal juices.

Did chastity make them into doormats, or was it the other way around?

Dr Burley let out a particularly long, ululating cry that triggered Milo's penis to throb and inflate against its bars.

Whimpering, he fled into the bathroom. He struggled out of the sandals and bracers, finally got as naked as he was ever going to get and showered.

It stung.

Even cold water make his welts blaze so he had to focus on breathing and trying not to scream.

The old "maid's room" was up a narrow stair off the kitchen dining room. The dingy room hadn't been decorated since 1950, and it was clearly where old musical instruments came to die. There was no curtain, and rain thundered against the little window, while outside the wind howled.

But there was a narrow bed and a duvet.

Milo dove under it and slept.

Dawn woke Milo from weird dreams of being a chaste slave in ancient Pompeii. He was hard inside his chastity cage, his skin itched from formed scabs.

He put his hand to the collar at his throat and grinned.

He felt... fulfilled.

At peace.

He got dressed in his normal clothes and went down to start on the kitchen.

His phone buzzed:

DemureObserver: Hung over. Bring me coffee?

Milo's heart leapt. He hadn't thought about Nell at the Christmas party. Now, despite going with her lesbian girlfriend, she wanted to see him.

But if she saw him, then she'd see the welts, know that he was an utter degenerate pervert, the worst kind of masochist.

He sat down at the table and considered.

ByronicEpicurian: Sorry! No can do.

He waited.

No response.

The kitchen door opened. "Milo! Thank fuck." Ryan trudged into the room. He was wearing just his magic boxers, which had salty marks over the crotch. "Do you know how to work the coffee machine? Liz wants an Americano."

"No problem," said Milo. He got up and filled the grinder.

As it whirred, Ryan asked, "What the fuck is happening to us?"

Milo could only shrug.

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