Shona's Surprising Slave - Chapter 6
Femdom romance in the CARGO 'verse, where the NHS installs permanent chastity devices!
Hal paced into Ms Armstrong’s lounge, his cock throbbing with each step.
The wicker chair hung from ceiling just back from the glass balcony doors. He’d always imagined her using it on hot days to curl up like a cat, enjoying the breeze and the view out over the city.
And here he was, naked except for heavy leather fetters... oh and the Artemis chastity device, which he was already getting way too used to. His two worlds had merged, and it made him feel numb, as if trapped in a dream.
He stashed his clothes neatly on one of the seats pulled up to the dining table he was pretty sure she only used for after-hours cocktails with her girlfriends. Then he unhooked the chair, leaving the short chain dangling suggestively from the ceiling.
The wickerwork scratching his bare skin, he hefted it over to the back of the room and placed it behind the sofa.
Now what?
His penis had softened and he was starting to feel like an idiot.
He glanced out the balcony doors.
The apartment blocks and offices spread out as far as the horizon, all full of normal people doing normal things.
Maybe he should go?
Sounds of rummaging emanated from the bedroom part of the apartment.
He licked his lips, tasted her dried juices. His penis pulsed in its cage.
He shook his head. He would be insane to leave right now.
Sitting on the leather sofa felt wrong. As did standing. Should he chain himself up? But he didn’t know how long Ms Armstrong was going to be.
He settled for kneeling on the rug.
A toilet flushed. A door opened, closed. Footfalls approached down the hall.
Hal tensed. Had he misheard? Had she really told him to get dressed and go? But no, she’d given him orders.
Ms Armstrong --- now draped in a thigh-length cardigan --- swept through the door, and the room seemed to shrink. The lush cable knit cardigan was open, the buttons and button holes framing her red bush, creamy skin, and ample cleavage. She was carrying a bundle of whips and canes in her right hand.
Hal’s mouth went dry. His captive penis squirmed.
Then he saw that she also carried a foam block about the size of an old style telephone directory; a Pilates cushion.
Her green eyes focused on him.
He flinched.
The giant red-haired woman tossed the punishment instruments on the sofa, swept up to stand over him so he was staring up at her red-thatched pussy.
Hal inhaled, and caught the scent of the woollen cardigan, fresh soap from her shower, and feminine musk from his licking.
The foam block thudded to the floor between them. “It’s very simple. Just do as you’re told.”
“OK,” said Hal. “But really, we should negotiate first...”
“Shut up,” said Ms Armstrong, her voice harsh and Scottish.
Hal closed his mouth.
“Take the block and put it under the ceiling chain.”
Hal got up, and feeling her eyes on him, positioned the block just right.
Cushions rustled. He guessed she’d sat down on the sofa. “Now stand on the block and clip your ankles together.”
Suddenly, this had gone too far. He couldn’t take this step, not without negotiations and a safe word.
He turned to tell her this.
But there she was as he had imagined her, draped on the sofa, long muscular legs bare to the freckled thighs, bushy red hair cascading down the back. She waved her fingers. “Get on with it.”
He stepped up onto the block --- it was firm and less than six inches thick --- and squatted awkwardly to use the snap hooks to connect his ankles to each other.
“Now, clip your wrists to the chain, as high as they can go.”
The dog clips were just long enough that he could get them into his palms and operate them with his thumbs.
He stood up, turned so he was side on to her, and... reached.
“Tiptoes,” she ordered.
He stretched even higher, and clipped them onto the ceiling chain, then came off his toes. His arms were held above his head, but without much tension. He could get out of this if he needed to.
As if divining his thoughts, Ms Armstrong said, “Show me how you’d escape. Still no talking, mind.”
Straining a little, Hal twisted his right hand behind his left so he could get at the buckle with his fingers.
“Perfection!” she said, swinging her long legs off the sofa so he got a flash of red pubic hair. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
Hal relaxed. She was talking safety seriously after all.
The red head padded up to the stand close to him. Thanks to the foam block, he was actually eye to eye with her. “So are you feeling safe?”
He nodded.
Her right foot slid forward... as curved as a wet dream, with neat ruby nails... slid forward to nudge the block.
He had time to gasp, “Shit!”
The block flew away.
He dropped the last four inches. Now he was stretched out taut from floor to cieling.
Heart hammering in his chest, he tried twisting to claw at the straps, tried going on tip toes to reach the snap hooks.
Ms Armstrong’s green eyes glinted with amusement. “I’d say you’re completely fucked, Hal Charlton.”
His penis hardened in its cage as if this were a fantasy. He tried to speak, couldn’t, then made himself say loudly, “Let me go!”
“Don’t bother shouting for help,” said Ms Armstrong. “There’s solid concrete between the flats.”
“Let me go!” he repeated.
Ms Armstrong reached into her cardigan pocket and produced a pair of nipple clamps. “It’s weird,” she said, tugging at his left nipple so he squirmed, “I was hot angry, but now I’m cold angry, if you know what I mean?”
“You’re better than this,” tried Hal.
“No I’m not,” she said. She applied the nipple clamp. Pain clawed out from the tortured nub and gathered his caged groin, making his hips twitch. “I’m a castrating bitch. And a monster. There.”
The other clip went on. Hal whimpered.
“People keep telling me that, so I thought; why not just own it? Talking of which.” She glanced down at his crotch.
He tried to cross his legs, but his ankles were well strapped together.
She whirled away and returned to the sofa. This time she didn’t bother to arrange the sweater, so it left most of her body bare.
Hal’s gaze swept from red painted toe nails, over her man-crushing legs with their long muscular thighs, languished on the red curls of her crotch, then savoured her flat belly and big, thick-nippled breasts.
The cage clamped around his cock like an iron fist.
“So.” The redhead fished her phone from her cardigan pocket. “Tell me about the chastity device?”
“Artemis Clinic,” he stammered.
“Like the virgin goddess?” Ms Armstrong tapped at her phone. “Artemis Surgical and Medical Future Horizons. Interesting. They’re the ones who developed the Omni Vaccine. And they fund a political party. There’s an app. Oh, here’s the clinic website. Hmmm. Gender stuff?”
“They’re...” Hal’s whole body convulsed and a bubble of lust formed in the tip of his pierced dick. His arms started to ache. “They’re pushing the idea of a Neutered identity.”
“Neutered?” said Ms Armstrong. “That’s like castrated. Is that you then?”
“No!” said Hal.
“Why the red button, then?”
He stood on tiptoe to take the tension off his wrists. “It’s how the cheaper ones come. Good cage and the laser piercing... no waiting around for healing... best possible anchor.”
“How did you pass the ‘rigorous assessment’?”
“Internet,” said Hal.
Ms Armstrong chuckled. “Well you have been a naughty boy after all. Also, isn’t this all rather expensive for a domestic cleaner?”
Hal blushed.
“Oh,” said Ms Armstrong. “Is this why your girlfriend dumped you?”
Hal nodded. “She wanted us to go on holiday together.”
“You selfish bastard,” said Ms Armstrong. “Serves you right she took your key.”
“Keys.”
“Shut up.” She returned her attention to the phone. “Oh, it really isn’t coming off on its own. It’s not just the nano ceramic. It looks like Artemis have hacked the IP laws. You, laddy, are stuck for the duration. And that’s even without the natty little red button.”
Hal’s groin clenched. She was right, of course. Even if you discounted 90% of the forum chatter as people fapping, it was really clear that for a mere mortal, this was an inescapable chastity device.
Ms Armstrong swung off the sofa, soft cardigan wide open so the sunlight made her white curves radiant. “Are you turned on?”
He nodded.
“I’m going to masturbate over this for years,” she said. “But you could have years ahead without masturbating.”
No, thought Hal. Tabitha will give me the key back... assuming she hasn’t already tossed it way. I should have messaged her...
He was helpless, so very helpless.
Ms Armstrong reached out and removed his left nipple clip.
It hurt as if she’d driven a nail through it.
As Hal gasped, she removed the second clip. Pain sheeted down his chest. His groin heaved.
Ms Armstrong’s hand flashed out. He flinched and his cheek exploded in pain.
His pelvis twitched. There was a wet splat.
Ms Armstrong let out a girlish squeak and back-stepped. Her wide mouth curved into a grin. “Look what you’ve done.”
A drop of semen now glistened on the floor in front of his feet.
She prodded his cage. Her big green eyes bored into him. "Its still hard though. You're turned on?"
He nodded.
She padded around him, trailed her hand over his flanks. "It's nice to be able to just explore."
He shuddered.
She squeezed his buttocks. "Firm."
"Thank you." He managed.
Ms Armstrong's arms slid around his waist. Her soft breasts pressed into his shoulder blades, then her pubic hair nestled against his waist.
His hips twitched.
Her big hands slid up to stroke his bruised nipples, making an electric triangle between the little nubs and his caged cock. Her breath blew hot and wet on his right ear. "So vulnerable."
Hal tried to speak, managed a groan.
Ms Armstrong tweaked one nipple. Her free hand dropped to his crotch. Her knitted sleeve was a soft caress on his flank. Then she extended a finger and stroked the red button that could permanently seal his Artemis chastity device.
Hal squealed and bucked against her. "Oh Jesus no!"
Ms Armstrong let out a deep chuckle and clamped him hard so her breasts were squashed against his shoulders. "It is like a clitoris."
Hal tried to twist away, even as his cage seemed to fill with concrete. "Please, no."
The Amazon was too strong for him. She pressed the red button, just a little, so it sank a millimetre into its housing. "A little more pressure," she breathed, "and you're neutered for good."
Will thrashed against his bonds, tried to get a finger on the buckles. Failed. "Oh god oh god let me go. Red! Red!"
"Yes," she purred, "I am red. And a bitch. I'll give this button a good shove and you'll never come again. Fifty years from now, I'll be a little old lady with cats and a garden and I'll be using my vibrator and I'll think of you, and know that wherever you are, whatever you've done with your life, you still can't have had an orgasm but I can and..." The red button sank further into its housing.
A cry escaped Hal's lips. Semen spurted out of the tip of the cage, splattered the laminate floor.
Ms Armstrong laughed and released him.
The red button reset to normal, but Hal’s penis shrivelled around its hook. Now he was just a scared captive, naked skin chilled by his own sweat. He shivered. “Let me go now. I’m not turned on any more.”
“That was the idea,” she said. The giant redhead had returned to the sofa. She stooped over the sofa, making her great breasts swing, and produced a short riding whip. “This is for me, not for you.”
"Jesus no!"
Ms Armstrong stalked around him.
He tried to shuffle to track her.
The riding whip swished, tore into Hal’s buttocks.
There was no glow of arousal to protect him, just a sheen of perspiration over cold flesh.
He screamed, but that just made her laugh.