Chastity People Chapter 4

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

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Milo's English lecturer spread her skinny legs and planted her block-heeled boots on the rug. She was naked under the leather mini-dress. White stockings left off half way up her slender thighs, then a thick unshaven bush.

"Dr Burley, I really think..." But it was hard to talk over the rush of blood in his ears and the throb of his pierced penis in its inescapable cage. Milo plucked at his glass collar, which suddenly seemed too tight. He coughed. "Dr Burley..."

"Call me Lizzy, please!" she said, spreading her legs wider. "You don't perform cunnilingus on anybody you call Doctor... unless it's medical role-play?"

Milo's chastity cage... crunched. He turned his head away, tried to look around the room. A bookshelves crammed with Penguin Classics. A desk with laptop and a wardrobe. She must be renting from the Music professor.

"How was it?" she asked. "The operation?"

"Oh," said Milo, "rather ordinary. Mandatory counselling, then you go into this room with a machine which a nurse puts over your man parts. There's a sucking sensation, it sort of seals and everything goes numb. A count of ten while they fit the collar, then the machine detaches with a pop! There are your shiny new genitals, all pierced and caged. Hang around ten minutes in case you're going into shock and off you go into the wild."

"Oh," she said. "About as sexy as getting your coil fitted."

"Yes, sorry, not very dramatic."

The ceiling bumped and from upstairs came the cries of a woman --- Anne of the sparkly dress --- having an orgasm.

Across the hall, the piano struck up: Zoe was pounding out Dave Brubeck's Take Five and for a wistful moment Milo wished he were older.

Something buzzed.

Dr Burley was using a wand vibrator --- a big white pepper grinder of a device with a bulbous head that buzzed against her furry crotch while she ground her hips against it. "For such... a talker, Milo, you are useless at actual sexy talk."

Milo shuddered. The blood His caged penis pulsed wetly. "Yeah... uh..." He managed.

There was something spidery about the long-limbed woman. Milo couldn't look away.

Instead he backed to the door, reached behind him for the handle.

Dr Burley flashed her mascara rimmed eyes. "Make your choice, adventurous stranger... Mmm." She flexed her legs and her boots creaked. Her vulva muffled the vibrator's buzz... wetly. "Strike the bell and bide the danger..."

"Pardon?"

"Or wonder..."

Milo recognised the quote. "...till it drives you mad," he completed. "C.S. Lewis!"

"Lewis was a complete... pervert..."

"Shacked up with an older woman." When he'd read about, he'd been shocked then darkly excited. Now here he was trying to escape just such a femme fatale: a woman in boots and stockings, legs spread, dark furred vulva exposed. She might be his English lecturer, but she looked like she'd stepped out of a porn shoot from the coolest of cool eras.

In the parlour, Zoe switched to something more melodic Milo didn't recognise --- was she extemporising ?

There must have been crazy parties like this in the 60s, except without the permanent male chastity devices.

Milo yielded to the weight of his caged penis. He dropped to his knees between her boots, ducked between her open thighs. Closer now, he could make out thick lips lurking behind her luxuriant pubic hair.

Dr Burley raised her legs to enfold him, crushed his face into her ripe musky vulva, dug her boot heels into his back, scraped his rib

His penis seemed to spark in the dark. A spasm went through him. His tongue flickered into motion.

Dr Burley tasted different from Nell, darker. And where Nell had a very unhooded clitoris, Dr Burley's was more of a squishy button.

So he did squish, slathering his tongue around the nub while her scent enveloped him.

Dr Burley groaned. "Yes! Perfect! Go on. Harder."

The little flap of skin under his tongue hurt, his jaw ached, but he kept his tongue moving.

"Yes!" cried Dr Burley. "Yes yes yes yes YES!"

Her thighs closed, squeezing him back onto his knees.

She grinned down on him. "And that, class, is what enthusiastic consent looks like."

Milo stared at her crotch. Her long pubic hair was soaked in juices and saliva. His tongue had actually left a whorl around her clitoris.

And he was still aroused, but the arousal was fading into the ashes of frustration.

"Cheer up," said Dr Burley, rearranging her leather dress to cover her loins. "Another five years and you'll be cheerfully jerking off to this."

"Absolutely," said Milo. But he couldn't really imagine himself jerking off, let alone having sex.

What was happening to him?

"I..."

Dr Burley stood up. "I have a paper to write in the morning." She made shooing motions with her hands. "You can clean up in the downstairs bathroom. If you hang out a little longer, Anne will be done and you and your friend can share a taxi home."

Sure enough, Milo found mouthwash, floss and wipes in the bathroom, just like the samples that came with the official Chaste Welcome Pack but in much larger quantities.

Milo blinked at himself in the mirror. There was a sticky sheen around his mouth and a dark pubic hair stuck between his teeth.

Zoe was still going strong on the piano, though she'd shifted to 1920s musicals.

He removed the hair, used the mouthwash. He scrubbed his face with the wipes, erasing all trace of Dr Burley, other than the memory of nuzzling between her thighs like an over-enthusiastic dog.

His penis flexed traitorously inside its cage.

"Stupid thing."

Milo opened the bathroom door in time to hear another orgasm coming from upstairs. Ryan must be in his stride now.

Milo shrugged and wandered through to the parlour.

"Done so very quickly?" asked Zoe, without looking round. The middle aged woman was enthroned on a big two-seater piano stool. She had a way of rocking her body left and right so her hands could vamp and scurry over the keys while a glass of red wine rippled in its perch on the piano top.

"Not through any deficiency on my part," shot back Milo.

She laughed. "I'll bet!" She snatched a drink of wine from the glass and kept playing.

"You're incredible," said Milo.

"Music Professor," she said. "Comes with the job."

"I..." said Milo. He raised his voice over the booming piano. It was like talking in a storm. "I'm not sure how to put this..."

"Yes?" Her improvised melody seemed to totter on the high notes then rattle down the piano.

"But is there... anything I can do for you?"

"What? Are you offering me sloppy seconds, my boy?"

"God no I mean..."

"Oh, you used the girls' clean up station, did you?"

"I... I..."

The middle aged woman laughed. "What you can do for me is sit down and jam." She bumped to the left end of the piano stool and patted the vacant space.

Milo slipped in beside her, felt her soft shoulder against his. There was just enough room.

Zoe used both plump hands to stab a sequence of bass Jazz chords.

Milo jumped in on the top notes, catching the harmony but also playing off it.

"Oh very moddish!" cried Zoe. She speeded up.

Milo kept pace, playing too fast to think so that his mind was a blur of chords and riffs.

Somehow they reached a crescendo together.

Zoe snatched her hands off the keys grabbed his head and mashed her mouth against his. Her big lips worked soundlessly while the taste of red wine drowned that of the mouthwash.

Cage tightening, Milo swayed back under the onslaught, twisted in his seat, managed to get his hands around her waist.

It was yielding, but there was less girth than he had expected. Not that it mattered anyway. She was magnificent!

He returned the kiss, advanced his tongue against her teeth, met hers coming in the other direction.

Their mouths became a vortex of saliva and swirling probing flesh while their little throat sounds formed an earthy duet.

The tide of lust reached his groin, churned his useless penis in its cage.

At length, Zoe retreated. Her face was flushed, eyes alive. "Hang on," she gasped, "This is getting awkward."

His stomach turned watery, dissolving his captive erection."Oh?"

The older woman chortled. "Physically, my boy, physically. Cock a leg!"

"Pardon?"

Zoe rose up and --- yes --- cocked a leg over the piano bench to sit astride it as if she was riding a horse.

"Oh!" Milo swung his leg to face her.

She pecked his lips. "Like teenagers!"

"I wouldn't know."

"But you are a teenager."

"And you---"

Nell's voice came to him: Don't say anything.

He had been going to say, You are old enough to know better.

"--can come to my 20th birthday party if you like. It's a month away."

Not that he knew enough people to invite.

"I'd certainly like to come for it," she said.

"Pardon?"

Zoe kissed him. "Buttons on the back."

Then she hopped up onto his spread thighs to sit astride him; a soft weight that pinned him to the piano stool. She grabbed the back of his glass collar with both hands and kissed him... devoured him, crushed her breasts to his chest, ground her crotch against his cage so that it felt as if a vortex of lust was going to tear him apart.

With shaking hands, he tried for her buttons, managed the first, then the second. Then they all came away.

Zoe let go of his collar so he could ease the dress over her shoulders down her arms. Her bra strap somehow went with it.

He had to detach from the kiss for the last part.

The fabric fell away to reveal formidable brassiere supporting even more formidable breasts.

Zoe covered the tips of her breasts her plump hands. "Are you a boob man, Miles?"

"It's Milo," he said. "And I am now."

Her big lips creased into a sly smile. She let go of her breasts, reached behind herself for the catch. The bra whipped away and the Music professor's breasts just... fell out like a pair of concertinas, like comedy googly eyes on springs, except all soft luxurious, sexy flesh.

Mouth watering, Milo leaned forward.

Zoe rolled back with a giggle. "Whee!"

Their legs jumbled, he lost his seat. Somehow he ended up kneeling on the floor beside the padded stool, while the buxom older woman lay draped on it like a sacrifice on a Devil worshipper's altar, massive breasts subsided into great nipple-tipped mounds of flesh.

It was a two-seater bench, and she was short. Even so, Zoe's head still dangled over one end, so that her pale throat was stretched out enough to tempt any passing demon. Her arms trailed to the floor and her slippered feet --- they very nice embroidered slippers --- just touched the carpet.

Kneeling up, Milo took a breast in both hands and sucked the nipple.

Zoe purred. "Nice..."

He tongued it experimentally.

"Mm... Even better."

With a giggle reached out her left and and tinkled on the keys of the grand piano. "All my favourite things...!"

It was his first actual breast, realised Milo. He'd gone down on Dr Bradley --- serviced her, be honest --- without even sharing a kiss, let alone either of them undressing.

And before that there was glorious unreachable Nell, and he'd meekly gone down on her without thinking to touch anywhere else even though he'd been invited.

What kind of man was he?

But here he was sucking and gnawing at the big breast of an amazing woman who was out of his league not because of social distance, but because of Time itself.

Zoe lifted her ample buttocks and eased the rest of the dress over her hips, along with her pantihose and flesh-toned panties.

Her tummy was soft, but pleasing on the eye. Her thighs were big and welcoming. And between them was a neatly kept bush.

Still sucking a breast, Milo managed to reach down and help her get her clothes all the way off. Then he stroked her soft thigh.

"Oh go on," she said, "don't beat about the bush, my boy, finger fuck me."

He stroked her bush and realised he hadn't done this before either. He stroked deeper.

Her furry outer lips parted and there was the moist cleft, like the flesh of a kiwi fruit.

"Go on!" she urged. "Two fingers!"

He made a hook and gently probed.

The middle aged woman tilted her hips and his fingers slid inside to the knuckle.

He pressed into the roof of her vagina and pistoned his arm.

The slippery walls squeezed his digits.

Milo yelped and snatched his hand away. He sat back on his heels.

Zoe let out a deep belly laugh that set her naked flesh quivering. "Vaginas do that! Oh my goodness, you're a virgin!"

Milo's pierced penis reared against its cage in protest.

He returned his hand to her thigh.

She closed her knees. "No, you've made me ticklish. Get down there and lick. That should be familiar."

Milo shuffled around to kneel between her deliciously curvy bare feet. And for the second time that night he took a new vulva into his mouth and sucked.

Zoe's lips flared against his tongue. She tasted of garlic and spice and the tang of too much coffee.

He trawled her cleft, sloshing her musky juices into his mouth while his penis thrummed in its cage, spitting semen.

"Deep as you can!" she said. "And do squeeze my boobs."

It was slightly awkward but he managed to get a hand on each breast. Then he hooked his tongue and pressed it into her vagina. There was a fleshy bulge just above the entrance, so he rubbed that.

"Oh very good!" she said, shifting. "Oh... Oh yes." Her voice grew deeper, huskier, her juices flowed into Milo's mouth, pooling in the back of her throat. He swallowed, drinking her up.

She curled forward, "Oh yes! YES! WOWWWWWWWWW!" She flopped back.

Milo started to withdraw.

She flipped her bare legs over his shoulders.

He lost his grip on her breasts.

Zoe's powerful leg muscles drew him in. "Back to work, my boy!" Through the frizz of her pubic hair, he saw that she was now pinching her own nipples.

Jaw aching, flap under his tongue blazing, Milo French-kissed Zoe's vagina, his throat working to swallow he juices as the slippery tunnel discouraged them.

"Well fuck me!" said Ryan. "Two in a night!"

Milo tried to rise, but Zoe heel-kicked him back into his station.

"Can I help?" said Ryan.

"The more the merrier!" cried Zoe. "Suck a boob will you, my boy."

Ryan strolled around to the other end of the stool, gave the music professor an upside down kiss while he tweaked her nipples. Then he leaned over and sucked her right breast.

She let out a shuddering sigh.

Milo tried to gather the strength to escape. This was not the kind of threesome he'd ever imagined!

Zoe shifted. "Heaven! Mmmmm. I'm almost in Heaven." She shuddered. Her vagina rippled against Milo's tongue.

"What ever is going on!"

Milo made out Anne in the corner of his eye. Gone was her sparkly dress. In its place was a big comfy dressing gown.

"Oh...!" she cried as she advanced into the parlour. "Wow! Can I have a turn?"

"You have to suck a boob first!" cried Zoe.

And she did.

Anne took position on Ryan's left and ducked over to suck the other breast.

"Oh... Jesus!" cried Zoe. "Oh my... Oh. This is heaven I--" She made a sound like a tube train shuddering and squealing to a to a halt. Her juices squirted into Milo's ready mouth.

That set off a joyless eruption of semen in his groin.

"Enough enough!" cried Zoe. "Off!" She rolled off the stool and stood up, naked with her big breasts hanging down like something out of an artist's reconstruction of early humans.

Anne threw off her dressing gown and took her place.

As the other three clamped on with their mouths, she said, "Oh my god this isn't happening... Oh. Fuck but it is..."

It turned out that Anne tasted shower fresh, then vaguely sea weedy and that she liked her clitoris sucked and tongued quite roughly.

As she reached a particularly noisy orgasm, Dr Burley stomped into the room. "Jesus what is all this noise?" Then, "Bloody hell, girls!"

Zoe took a mouth off Anne's breast. "Come and join the fun."

"I think all the places are taken," said Dr Burley, turning on her heel.

"SQUARE!" bellowed Zoe. Then, "Young people. Don't know how to live. Are you done my dear?"

A flushed faced Anne nodded.

Zoe stooped --- big breasts swinging --- and handed Anne her dressing gown. "Get the Scotch out. I'll get into my PJs."

And so the four of them sat in Zoe's parlour with the lights low and drank malt whisky. Zoe insisted on rotating through her vinyl collection. Ryan mocked her taste, but was persuaded to dance and did quite well. Anne turned out to like German Cinema, and had actually been to the Berlin film festival... because she was in her 30s and that's what solvent adults did.

And Milo sat back on the sofa, let the smoky alcohol sooth his aching tongue and followed Nell's advice and didn't talk... or didn't talk to much.

This was all backwards, he realised with a sudden surge of melancholy. They were supposed to party and talk, then make love.

After making love, they were supposed to... do quiet intimacy?

Afterglow.

Only what had happened didn't mean anything to any of the three women.

This was after-party, not afterglow, with the two chastes cast in the role of overawed groupies.

Anne seemed a decent sort, and Zoe was fabulous in a grand dame sort of way. They were good people, but they wouldn't have given the time of day to either Ryan nor Milo if it wasn't for what was in their pants, and what they were prepared to do with their tongues for --- quite frankly --- not a lot of reward.

But maybe the reward was just being here...

Milo curled up on the sofa and dreamed of Nell's breasts.

Ryan woke him early.

The women had gone to their own beds and his friend looked decidedly groggy.

"Best slip away, man," said Ryan. It sounded like he was having difficulty using his tongue.

"Good plan," croaked Milo. God his jaw ached. "Have you any idea where we are?"

"Crazy town, that's where," said Ryan. "Sometimes this chaste thing is like being an addict."

"Well we made Zoe happy --- that's something to be proud of," said Milo.

"Let's not ever talk about it again, eh?"

But as the week stretched out into sleepless nights beset by visions of winged vulvas swooping out of the dark to suck at his face, Milo realised he perhaps did need to talk about it, to somebody.

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