Chastity People Chapter 2
A Femdom coming of age in the CARGO 'verse, where the NHS installs permanent chastity devices!
Nell's phone buzzed.
She rolled over, reached for it, then the hangover caught up with her. "Urgh."
The bed was empty, of course. Adam was long gone, leaving her with nothing but a wet patch and a slimy used condom draped over the side of her wastepaper bin — he’d been slightly outraged she wasn’t fitted with the coil. She’d told him her omnivaccine was all she needed, thank you very much, and the encounter had almost ended right there. But then he’d remembered the condom in his jacket pocket and things had picked up… and here she was, sweaty and a little bruised.
The phone buzzed again.
The room stank of man and stale alcohol. "Urgh."
Nell threw aside the duvet, found she was naked. She made it to her feet and to the bathroom, threw up in the toilet. She stood there braced for a moment, vagina aching, and flashed back to Adam taking her from behind while holding a hank of her hair --- no wonder her scalp hurt.
Back in bed she finally propped herself up on her stomach to read her phone, trying not to recoil from the sweaty sheet.
There were fresh messages in the group chat.
Kiera: @Nell Not coming running?
Kiera: Too shagged out?
Amber: Hussy lol
Kiera: My turn next!
Amber: > Kiera: My turn next?
Amber: !!!!!
Kiera: With Adam. Not Nell. Moron.
Amber: ROFL.
Nell started to type, deleted it.
There was nothing she could say that would be both cool and true.
"Fudge!
She could message her mum: "Hi Mum. Eleanora here. I masturbated on a pervert's chastity cage then got wasted and lost my virginity to a one night stand..."
Maybe not.
Who did that leave?
Granny?
OMG no.
But somehow Nell already had HrLckr open. She'd bookmarked ByronicEpicurian. The selfy still showed him staring into the camera, hair bushed like somebody had electrocuted him.
She hit the chat icon.
DemureObserver: Sorry.
ByronicEpicurian typed, stopped typing, typed some more.
Nell stared, willing him to hit SEND.
ByronicEpicurian: ?
Nell sighed. Was that it?
DemureObserver: It's Nell
ByronicEpicurian: Sorry for what?
DemureObserver: Using people is wrong.
ByronicEpicurian: Not used!
Typing.
Not typing.
Typing.
"Make up your flipping mind, Posh Boy!"
ByronicEpicurian: Transcendental experience.
Nell laughed. Only Milo would refer to dry humping as transcendental, whatever that really meant.
She chewed her lip.
DemureObserver: *I* feel used.
There, she'd said it.
ByronicEpicurian: Not by me!?!??
DemureObserver: Sex with Adam.
Nothing.
No response.
She held her breath, but why did it matter what Milo thought of her?
ByronicEpicurian: Telling me why?
DemureObserver: Only person I can.
ByronicEpicurian: Did he hurt you?
DemureObserver: No. Just
Just what?
DemureObserver: I don't know.
ByronicEpicurian: No good typing. Buy u coffee?
ByronicEpicurian: Discrete. Like spies. 007?
Nell grinned at her phone, but that made her head hurt. She could really, really do with that coffee.
DemureObserver: Too hungover to leave room.
ByronicEpicurian: :(
Nell had a flash of him meekly letting her ride his lap in the chapel while he stared at her like some saint having a vision. He was pretty much the definition of "safe"... like a declawed and neutered tomcat but without even the teeth.
DemureObserver: Kill for coffee. Bring round 20 min?
ByronicEpicurian: :)
Great.
Twenty minutes was just enough time to get through the shower and tidy up.
Nell rolled onto her back, meaning to sit up.
She woke to pounding on the door.
What was it? The Police? How long had she been out?
She rolled around to sit up. The world took a spin.
A Russian voice called out what sounded like, "The purple giraffe yearns for the dressmaker's libations."
"What?" Prank? Delivery? She was expecting a new tablet. "Wait a moment."
Nell got the duvet wrapped around her, stumbled, almost tumbled, got the door open.
Milo was standing there with his stupid mad genius hair, a big coffee shop bag in one hand. "The purple giraffe yearns for the dressmaker's libations," he repeated with a wink.
"What the fuck?" said Nell, numbly aware she had sworn.
Milo grinned. "You're supposed to say something like All suffer under the the unjust oppression of the capitalist running dogs."
"What the fuck?" repeated Nell.
"Spy recognition phrase? We're being spies aren't we..?" His eyebrows steepled and he trailed off, obviously suddenly aware she was wrapped in nothing but a duvet.
"I... uh..." Milo offered her the bag. "I'd better go. You look like you need two coffees anyway. There's Danish as well..."
Nell reached for the bag, but that made the duvet flap open and expose one breast.
Now Milo's eyes widened and he was looking at her the way everybody had looked at Ryan's posh cougar. She could literally feel the heat of his gaze and it was making her traitorous nipple harden...
Nell closed the duvet and hugged it to herself.
Milo flushed and stooped to set down the bag. "I'll just leave this here."
The smell of the coffee wafted up to her.
Voices echoed down the hallway; the Sunday morning runners coming back, including Kiera and Amber.
"Oh come in, you idiot," said Nell. "Before people see you."
She backed into the room.
Milo hesitated in the doorway.
Nell sighed. "It's not as if you're a threat."
"Thanks, I think?" He followed her inside.
She closed the door. "Shut your eyes."
"I thought I wasn't a threat?" he said, but he did as he was told.
"A girl has standards," said Nell.
But what standards?
She pulled on fresh knickers and a sleeping T-shirt, tossed last night's underwear into the bathroom, tipped the used condom into the bin proper. Was she going to throw up again?
"Can I open my eyes yet?"
It would have to do.
Nell climbed back onto the bed, mounded the duvet over her bare legs, squirmed away from the wet patch.
She found herself staring at the front of his jeans, picking out the bulge where the cage must be.
"Have you perchance fallen asleep?" said Milo. "I'm still here."
"OK," said Nell. "You can look."
Milo gave her a goofy grin then unpacked the paper bag onto her desk. Carefully at arms length as if she might bight, he handed her a large latte and a cinnamon Danish with mounds of icing.
Caffeine and carbs raced through her system.
"Hero," she managed through mouthfuls. But with wakefulness came an awareness of her bruised vulva and aching vagina, the itch in her scalp and the strands of hair scattered over the bed. At least she hadn't let him choke her.
"If you don't mind," said Milo, "I'll open the window?"
She nodded.
Because of course the room stank of sex and booze.
Nell realised she was sobbing. "You must think I'm a slob. The room's a tip." She brushed back her lank hair. "And I need a shower."
"Oh Christ!" said Milo. "Are you sure he didn't..."
"No, no," said Nell. "I just... got in out of my depth." Maybe she should ring her mum?
"Easily done," said Milo with a wry grin.
"I just wanted to feel normal after what we did," said Nell. "You and I, I mean."
Milo went silent. He sipped his coffee.
"Oh..." began Nell, then stopped. Where she was sitting Normal suddenly didn't look quite so impressive, but she wasn't sure what she was trying to admit to.
"I think," said Milo. Another sip. "What we did was normal. There's even a French name for it: frottage."
"Frottage," repeated Nell, mimicking his voice. She giggled through her tears.
"Touche," said Milo. "Damn. Did it again."
Now Nell laughed. "It goes with your mad genius vibe."
"Point is," said Milo. "Back in the day --- maybe some mythical time in the 1970s or maybe 1950s --- couples used to do frottage ---" He held up a hand to silence her teasing. "And petting, and heavy petting, and maybe kissing and necking before all that, well before they got around to actual lovemaking. It was even considered romantic to take it slowly."
"But you don't have a choice," said Nell. "Which makes it abnormal." She bit her lip. She shouldn't have said it, but it had been tickling the back of her mind in the Chapel.
Milo seemed unphased. "Not at all. It was supposed to be quite normal for a gentleman to restrain himself out of deference for the purity of his beloved."
There was something about his self mocking way of speaking that made her smile. "I'm not feeling very pure," she said.
"Ah well, times have changed, and you are certainly pure of heart." He set down his coffee cup. "Look... why don't you have your shower. I'll change your bed and tidy up a bit so you can make a fresh start to your day. I'll be gone before you've completed your ablutions."
"I..." But why not? It wasn't as if he could violate her underwear drawer. And there was no point in showering if she had to deal with this tip. "You are a gentleman."
Nell slip out from under the dirty covers. Feeling his gaze on her bare legs, she went into the little bathroom and ran the shower.
He was still there when she emerged into her room clean and awake wrapped in a fresh white towel.
She'd caught Milo with his jacket half on. He blushed. "Gosh sorry. I had to literally break into Housekeeping to get fresh bedding. It being Sunday."
“Day of rest,” said Nell with a giggle.
She glanced around the room. The bedding was indeed fresh, the bin --- eww --- emptied. The surfaces were dust free. Her books were lined up neatly on her desk, her pencils and pens in the old Les Miserables cup she used. Her laptop and phone were charging.
The floor was vacuumed as well.
"It's..."
"Oh god I hope I haven't gone too far," he said.
"It's perfect, but... how?"
"Because I'm 'posh'? Big house, no cleaner. Mother has a hoarding issue. Enough said." Milo zipped up his jacket. "Let's have that discrete coffee sometime soon?" He reached for the door handle.
"Wait," said Nell.
He twisted to look at her over his shoulder.
She undid her body towel and let it drop.
"Oh?" said Milo, turning to face her. "Jesus!" He covered his eyes with his hands.
Nell sniggered. "I'm not that bad with my clothes off."
"No I can't..." He actually shuddered. "I shouldn't."
"It's OK. You can look, you softy. That's why I dropped my towel."
"But if I look... I can't... five years..."
"Oh," said Nell."Oh."
Most straight men would have just stared, but he was actually scared of seeing her naked because it would hurt. She remembered something about seeing the Greek gods doing that.
"Look," she said. "Because in five years time you'll kick yourself if you haven't."
Milo peeked from between his fingers, took his hand away, but now his eyes were closed.
"Oh My God, LOOK!"
And he did look.
Milo rocked back on his heels, blinked, tried to keep his eyes on her face. They kept slipping off and sweeping over her body in a way that made her bruised vagina ripple weirdly.
And he was swaying a little and muttering to himself, "Oh god oh god..."
Nell just stood there basking in his gaze like it was a sunlamp... except a sunlamp wouldn't make her nipples harden and her breathing quicken.
The moment stretched out and she realised she was waiting for him to explode... though she wasn't sure what that would look like.
Finally the tension became unbearable. "Aren't you going to do something?" she said.
"I... that is... I have no idea what to do. You are the first woman I've ever kissed."
"Oh." He was more virgin that she was. She thought or a moment then said, "Get naked."
"It won't do any good.
"I need to see."
Nell got onto the bed and sat up with her legs stretched out, knees pressed together.
Milo hung his jacket on the door, slipped out of his shoes. There was no rush, it was as if he were carrying out a solemn ritual
Finally, he took off his polar neck shirt and folded that neatly.
His torso was skinny but with no flab, more boy than man, unlike the chunky Adam... but she she didn't want to be mounted and possessed again.
The glass collar caught the light from the window.
"Is that uncomfortable? The choker I mean."
"Ergonomic design," said Milo.
The jeans were next. As he draped them on the computer chair, she noted the shape of his cage under his boxers.
Then the boxers were gone and he was standing naked before her. The penis cage was flesh toned, so it seemed to merge into his genitals making them a sort of sexless clump.
"You can't get out of it?" she asked.
He shook his head.
"Can you..." She blushed, which was stupid when they were both naked. "Can you... you know?"
Again he shook his head.
"How do you feel?" she asked.
"Like I'm in the presence of a goddess."
Not the answer she expected. He was supposed to be horny or frustrated or something else normal. Something else normal about him and what he was feeling. Because that was normal.
"Is there a problem?" asked Milo. "I know I can be a bit much."
"No," she said. "I was just wondering how does a goddess get worshipped?"
He approached the bed end, knelt and kissed the big toe of her right foot... it was just a peck, but nobody had every kissed her foot.
Nell found herself squirming inside. She drew in her left foot, giving him more room.
Now he ducked around to kiss her instep with an uncanny reverence that made her really feel like a Goddess and he was her sacrifice.
"You can touch as well," she said. "Just don't say anything."
His hands came up and stroked her shin, the sides of her calf, reached up to her thigh sending delicious prickling waves into her vagina. Her pelvis tilted and now she felt as if she would explode. She clutched her breasts as if it to hold herself together, but then found herself massaging her own erect nipples.
Milo broke off from kissing her instep to sob.
Nell chuckled. She shuffled a little down the bed, parted her legs so she felt the breeze on her exposed vulva.
Milo moved like a moth to a flame His lips traced little kisses up her calf, the inside of her thigh. His hands shifted to her waist.
Nell drew in her knees. "I want this," she said. "Want you."
Milo let out one of his whimpers. He hesitated like a high diver on a cliff, and she saw tears were rolling down his cheeks. Then he burrowed between her ready thighs and his mouth fastened on her most private lips, drew out the wetness.
Nell groaned, not from the sensation, just from the intimacy of it.
Then Milo started to lick.
Adam had done that last night, briefly "to get her warmed up" for his dick.
But Milo had no penis... not one that he could insert anywhere. This was all for her, and not at all for him... except maybe he'd get tormented by flashbacks for the next five years, and that was why he was weeping and maybe she could feel his hot tears on her mons while his tongue drawled deeper and deeper into her, each time stirring up the depths before striking lightening from her clitoris.
There was no art to it, no calculation, no rush... just his tongue lashing desire into her body one stroke at a time.
Nell wrapped her legs around his head, dug her heels into her back. She pinched her nipples until the little splashes of pain kindled the oily wash of sensation into a burning sheet of pleasure. She bit chewed her lip, tensed against he onslaught.
Then things flipped and her throbbing clitoris was drawing the desire out of him. She rolled forward, grabbed his collar to crush his face into her. Somehow that connected her to the other fetter, the cage neutering his manhood that she just knew was pulsing and throbbing like a heart to the beat of his tongue.
Now Nell was the one doing the taking, the possessing. She was draining Milo, absorbing him so he was just a writhing husk with a tongue while her rippling vagina pumped his life force around her body, more and more until she...
Exploded.
Nell screamed, clawed the sheet, clawed his back as the world tipped sideways, inside out.
Then she was lying flat, skin soaked in sweat, chest heaving, nipples throbbing.
And Milo was kneeling back between her feet, his chastity cage a neat ornament between his skinny thighs. His lips were puffy, his eyes wide and startled.
Wordlessly, he ducked forward and kissed her foot. Then he got off the bed and moved drunkenly to retrieve his clothes.
His back was covered in claw marks.
Had Nell done that?
As Milo struggled into his jeans, a gossamer strand stretched out from the tip of his chastity cage.
It should have been gross, but it felt like a glimpse of the web she'd wrapped him in.
Now dressed, he nodded to her slowly and turned to the door.
"Wait," said Nell. "I know what transcendental means now." Her voice was hoarse.
Milo turned and looked at her expectantly.
"You made me feel like a goddess."
"You are a goddess," said Milo. His voice was thick and she realised his tongue must hurt.
"I..." But just the fact he'd say something like that made him too weird to be around her friends.
Plus, she realised, there was the collar. It seemed so much a part of him that she took it for granted. But her friends would call him a pervert, and everybody — everybody — would know what their sex life was like just by looking.
"Maybe we should start a cult of two," said Milo. "A secret cult."
There were probably the right words to say, but Nell's hangover had returned and she was shaking with exhaustion.
But goddesses didn't need to care about the right words.
"I'll think about it," said Nell.
