Chastity People Chapter 3

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

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A pair of full pint glasses thumped on the pub table.

Milo looked up from his phone.

"Cheer up mate," said Ryan over loud music and even louder people. He really didn't seem bothered that everybody could see the glass collar that indicated his penis was pierced and caged, just like Milo's.

Milo regarded the fizzy beverage. "This is generic lager, isn't it?"

"What real men drink!" Ryan peered over his shoulder. "Ooh, HrLckr. Right! That's why you're moping! There's a Virgo!"

"I'm sure she's more girl than Virgo," said Milo, swiping the app closed. He'd sent Nell an Exclusivity Proposal two weeks ago, and so far had nothing back from her. Another hour and it would expire and he wouldn't be able to resend one to the same woman for months.

He hadn't even had responses to his chat messages, other than a pop up telling him he'd exceeded his limit of "ignored DMs" to DemureObserver.

Had he come on too strong?

Ryan sat down opposite. "Cheers!"

"Cheers..." Milo winced. It was generic lager.

Ryan leaned closer over the wooden table. "Have you done the deed with her?"

Milo had a flash back of Nell's legs wrapped around his head. His penis flexed in its prison.

"We had a tryst, if that's what you mean?"

"Did she review you?"

"She said I was 'transcendental'! Five stars."

Ryan hooted. "She said that did she, Posh Boy? She was clearly taking the piss. Like those meme stocks."

"Oh," said Milo."So now I'm Blockbuster chastity edition. Bloody Marvellous."

Ryan tugged at his glass collar as if absent mindedly checking it was still there. "Well maybe she was letting you down gently?"

Milo took a good gulp of the bad lager and was suddenly very aware of his own collar pressing against his Adam's Apple. "I'm no good at reading people."

"Sorry mate," said Ryan. "But that's the life we signed up for. Serial shaggers, us. Pussy parade all the way to graduation."

"The pen having writ moves on," quoted Milo.

"You what?"

"The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam."

"You what?"

Milo sighed and rested his head in his hands. The tongue having licked, moves on would be more honest. But did he want to be that person?

Maybe if he got drunk he would be able to go home and fall asleep rather than spending hours tossing and turning with visions of the way Nell threw back her head when she climaxed, and of her secret savoury folds and their texture on his tongue...

Not so long ago he'd been ashamed of his hours wasted masturbating over things like 1920s porn --- stockings! --- and Klimt's erotic sketches --- more stockings! Now he would give his right arm for good old wank.

He'd actually tried to defeat the device, first by just tugging at his chastity cage, then by ordering a cheap vibrator online. Nothing. Not even a good leak to relieve the tension.

A leather miniskirt came into view above the tabletop, swishing around thighs wrapped in white nylon.

Milo dropped his gaze, found he was staring at long skinny thighs and retro knee-high boots of the kind that that tightened his chastity cage.

A vaguely familiar voice said, "Milo Renny, isn't it?"

Milo winced at being caught perving. He looked up and hoped the low light would hide his blushes.

A tall skinny women in her 30s grinned down on him. It wasn't a miniskirt, it was a 1960s-style shiny leather mini-dress with an intriguing zip down the front. That plus the boots and bobbed brown hair and heavy eye make up completed the retro Mod look.

Milo blinked and looked for the face behind the mascara and statement lipstick. "Dr Burley?"

He'd had a crush on the tall junior lecturer since the start of semester, and here she was dressed like a wet dream.

Specifically, a wet dream from his brief Rolling Stones phase. "I... didn't recognise you with your clothes on..." He flushed deeper. "I mean suit and so on."

"Call me Lizzy, please," said Dr Burley. "It's not like we're in tutorial --- Hey girls! I found one of my students goofing off!"

A short plump 40-something woman in a vaguely Bauhaus dress joined them --- all big angular patterns. "What's this, Lizzy? Oh, a chaste."

"Meet Zoe," said Dr Burley.

A third woman appeared --- 30s like Dr Burley, buxom with a knowing look and a sequinned dress. "I thought we weren't fishing?"

"And this is Anne," said Dr Burley. "And no we weren't expecting to, but here we are."

Ryan stood up. "Hello ladies. I'm Ryan."

"Oo," said Anne. "Two chastes."

"Well it's nice to bump into you all," said Milo.

"Join us," said Ryan, with a flamboyant wave.

"I'm sure they're not allowed to," said Milo.

"Oh yes we are," said Anne, pulling up a seat.

"Fraternisation code doesn't apply to chastes," said Dr Burley, who had a vaguely Newcastle accent. "Otherwise you sweetlings would cause heaps of trouble ---"

The three women laughed.

"I'll get in the drinks," said Dr Burley. She turned and clip-clopped to the bar, narrow hips snaking with each step of her block-heeled boots in a way that tightened Milo's chastity cage.

40-something Zoe secured two chairs, sat in one.

"Music Department!" blurted Milo.

"Yes!" Zoe screwed up her eyes --- she'd clearly left her glasses at home. "Do I teach you?"

Milo shook his head. "I' a pianist, but I went for Communications because that leads to English Literature."

"My loss!" Zoe accepted a tall glass with an umbrella in it from Dr Burley.

Milo shook his head. "Probably not. I'm obsessed by old Jazz."

"Old Jazz!" Zoe looked like she wanted to clap her hands. Instead she sipped her cocktail then hunched in over so she could be heard."Did you see the Keith Jarret movie?"

Not a bad cleavage, thought Ryan, trying to keep his eyes on her face. "The documentary?"

"No, the new one about the girl who promoted the concert..."

And just like that they were talking 60s music and very niche piano recordings and German cinema, while around them the pub filled up with what looked like the college Men's Rugby Club and their very girly hangers on.

Milo found himself grinning and drinking his beer too fast.

And though Zoe wasn't hot the way Dr Burley or Anne were, she had a sharp intellect and gleeful vigour that made up for it.

What really mattered was having adult conversation!

University was going to be like this, if only he could get through this Foundation Year without the sexual frustration driving him mad.

It would settle! He'd been promised!

"There you go," said Dr Burley, plonking a drink on the table. "I hope the Virgin Trappist's OK?"

Milo blinked. She certainly had spending power. "Perfect," he said. "Cheers."

"Oh, Lizzy!" wailed Zoe, with mock theatricality. "Somebody took your chair."

"It's OK. I don't weigh much." Dr Burley sat sideways on Milo's lap. Her bony bottom pressed into his thigh. The position put Milo eye-to-eye with the mounds of her small breasts under the shiny leather mini-dress.

His penis throbbed in its cage. He tried to visualise her on the lecture theatre podium, but that just made his abortive erection harder.

This was his English lecturer and she was sitting on his actual lap! It was at once a horrible turn on and a horrible position to be in. He needed a good write up from her to get into his chosen university course.

Dr Burley ducked to put her mouth so near his ear that he could feel her damp breath. "I'm not too heavy?"

"What? No. No problem."

"Hang on." She put her left arm over his shoulder and grasped the back of his chair. "Much more stable."

But now Milo was looking into the armhole of her mini dress and the leather was stiff enough to gape, exposing a soft expanse of side boob.

Dr Burley lifted her own drink, the movement making her left buttock shift against his caged package in a way that made him wonder if it was as pale has her breast. "To intellectual discourse!" she cried.

Milo raised his own glass. The Virgin Trappist was exquisite. It was also strong.

Anne of the sequinned dress took Ryan off to find the dance floor. However, Dr Burley remained perched on Milo's lap so the rugby lads stole their chairs. Unperturbed, the skinny academic started bantering with them.

Oh well, thought Milo, she's just treating me like a friend. It's perfectly innocent and I'm just being an idiot.

One of the rugby guys pointed out Milo's collar to what must have been his girlfriend. She flushed and giggled.

Milo turned back to the intense middle aged woman.

"I was going to say..." began Zoe, who now sounded a little tipsy. "The thing about Jazz Fusion..." She blinked myopically and put a hand on his bare arm. "It's like this..."

Milo did his best to focus. It was only one hand anyway.

And a pair of buttocks belong to a different women.

Dr Burley shifted her weight again, pressing her flank into him. There was a tug on his glass chaste collar. She was actually fiddling with it.

Milo opened his mouth to complain, but then had a vision of her up in front of the class in her grey trouser suit that left her elegant neck bare...

But it wasn't the neck that was the problem.

"Dr Burley?" No response. "Lizzy?"

She twisted to look at him with big wide eyes made even wider by the dark liner and mascara. "Yes?"

"What if somebody..."

Dr Burley pointed at her ear; the music was now too loud. She tilted her head.

Milo craned his neck and spoke into her elegant ear with its big hoops. "What if somebody got the wrong idea?"

She laughed. "Relax!" She had good voice projection. "Smith versus Fortescue! Case law protects us." Then her eyebrows raised tragically. "Oh, am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Not in that way." That came out as a shout.

Dr Burley rolled her eyes dramatically to look down in the direction of his caged groin. "Oh! The other way. I'm flattered."

Milo's stomach knotted. She'd caught him making assumptions.

But the tall older woman had already slipped off his lap.

Ryan and Anne had battled back from the dance floor. Both had flushed faces and Anne's eyes were twinkling.

Zoe was also on her feet. "Too noisy to talk! There's better booze back at the house. I'll get us a taxi."

"Good plan," said Dr Burley. She stooped and grabbed Milo's wrist. "Come on!"

Milo rose, but shook his head. "I think I'm done for the night."

"Rubbish!" exclaimed Zoe. "I've got a baby grand in my parlour. There's no better time to play jazz than round about midnight... man!" She tittered.

In the taxi, Anna and Ryan took the rear passenger seat and immediately started necking noisily. Milo squeezed in next to his friend and tried not to look.

Zoe, meanwhile, sat opposite Anna and thought the whole thing was hilarious. "Go on my girl! Eat his face!"

Dr Burley settled in the swing down seat facing Milo, folded her long legs and pressed her knees primly together, exposing a finger's breadth of skin above the top of her white nylons.

As they drove off, she reached out and tugged at his glass collar. "Are these things comfortable?"

"Everybody always asks that," said Milo feeling very worldly. "They're ergonomic."

Dr Burley's big eyes twinkled. "How about the other installation?"

"Causes discomfort, but is not uncomfortable."

She let go of his collar and brushed her hand down the front of his shirt, snagged a nipple and tweaked.

He yelped. His pierced penis inflated in its cage.

Dr Burley sniggered. "How's your level of discomfort now?"

Milo stammered. "I..."

His phone pinged.

"Excuse me." He wrestled the thing out of his jacket pocket opened it up. His Exclusivity Proposal had expired. Still no word from DemureObserver. She probably hadn't even opened the app. Why would she? She had no need for weirdos like Milo.

"Oh," said Dr Burley. "You look broken hearted."

"As a matter of fact," said Milo, folding away the phone, "That is..." Were his eyes watering?

Dr Burley strained forward in her seatbelt and kissed his forehead. "Some woman will make you very happy. Maybe sooner than you know."

The taxi pulled up in a suburban street.

Giggling, Ryan and Anne got out and rushed to the door of a nondescript two-story bungalow.

The plump Music lecturer paid the driver then stomped off after them. "Out The Way I Need a Pee!"

"Me too!" cried Dr Burley.

Milo checked the seat, retrieved Zoe's beret and Anna's handbag, then waved the driver off.

Inside the bungalow was all bookshelves and vinyl records. The sounds of loud sex already resounded from upstairs. Somewhere else, a toilet flushed.

Milo glimpsed a piano through an open door and found Zoe's parlour --- indistinguishable from her other rooms.

He dumped his jacket on a spare music stand then slipped into the seat and launched into his take on the Koln Concert.

Footsteps behind him.

Hands slipped inside his T-shirt and tweaked his nipples. Dr Burley's voice purred in his ear. "How long can you keep playing?"

Milo lost a note or two, switched to extemporising something simpler.

Dr Burley tweaked harder and chewed his ear.

The sensations coiled through him, tightening his chastity cage. His hands went limp, splashed the keys. He fell back to rest on her. Her body was warm against his back.

Dr Burley laughed. "Total pushover!"

"Oh," wailed Zoe, from the doorway. "What about my jam session?"

"Later," said Dr Burley. She yanked at Milo's nipples. "Jilling before jazzing."

Milo disentangled himself from the piano stool and she let go of his nipples. "Hey!" he cried. "Jilling refers to female masturbation. What does that make me?"

"It alliterated, OK?" Dr Burley grabbed his collar. "Come on, Mr Walking Tongue. I promise not to objectify you..." She let out a burst of laughter. "Much!"

And with that, the older woman dragged him across the hall into a bedroom. She hipped the door shut and threw herself on the futon sofa that took up most of the floor. "OK, you can do me now."

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