When my Mistress first brought out the chatity device, I was very afraid.
I had begged her to fulfill my chatity fantasy months earlier, but she had never taken any action on it, save instructing me on the regularity of my masturbation – some weeks she would demand I masturbate several times a day. Other times, she would ban me from masturbating at all. I enjoyed these little games – especially since she demanded I report to her every small details of my activities.
I was not afraid to wear the chatity device. Nor was I concerned about being deprived of orgasms – after all, that is what a chatity fantasy is all about. The truth be known, my Mistress’s appeal for sex was insatiable. She liked me to fuck her as often as possible – several times whenever we had a session; she even liked to call me in the middle of the night, demand I come over and service her, then leave her alone to her peaceful sleep. Wearing a chatity device means giving my Mistress all those good hard fucks was out of the question.
The first week I wore the device took some getting used to. It was made out of hard plastic. It was not an overly large device – designed to cover a flaccid cock with an additional ring to circle the scrotum. My Mistress had oiled my cock well, so my clammy dick never stuck to the insides of the casing. But at the end of that first week, my Mistress summoned me to a session, where she Commanded I fully lick her cunt and trench out. It was of course my pleasure to perform this duty for my Mistress.
But I became very excited by this task because usually my Mistress would demand a sound fucking afterwards. As she banged her pelvis against my face, the juices from her cunt began to coat my lips and cheeses, and I felt my cock began to grow hard within its prison. I had to concentrate! How could I give my Mistress all the pleasure she so desired, while taming my out of control cock? I had to do something before she pushed me away and saw how disobedient a slave I really was. As I lapped my tongue back and forth along her pussy lips, I thought of the Titanic. I imagined how cold it must have been when those people hit the water, and how if it had been me, my cock would have shrivelled until it was almost inverted. Slowly, my burning erection began to subside, and I was able to relax. I do not think my Mistress ever noticed how much I deserved a whipping that night.
By the end of the third week, I was quite accustomed to my restraint. My Mistress demanded an inspection, and I must say I was immensely proud to have met her approval in every way. I knew I was working my way towards the ultimate reward – my release and a good rocking orgasm.
But during week five, my pride in myself began to diminish and I felt a growing sense of desire. My cock was trapped, and everywhere I turned I saw tits and arses that reminded me so much of my own Mistress’s assets. On the bus I stood in the aisle, and two teenage girls forced their way past me to get to the door. My cock immediately began to rise and I began to feel very afraid that I could not control myself. As my dick hardened, I forced my mind to blank out. The skin crawled on my scalp and sweat broke out on my forehead. My cock remained semi-erect all the way to my stop and it wasn’t until I arrived at my office and took a look at the morbidly obese mail clerk that delivered who delivered the morning mail, that I was able to calm myself down.
I made straight for the men’s bathroom, rushing through the doors and diving into a stall. I clumsily unbuckled my belt, unzipped my pants and dropped them to my ankles then leaned with one hand against the back of the door as I massed my aching balls with the other hand. But this didn’t help – my balls were as trapped as my cock was, and somehow, they had Become hyper-sensitive. I stopped the pulsating movement of my hand and just held my balls gently. As I looked down at the chatity device that encased my cock, I saw several droplets of piss leak into the chamber. I turned and carefully shook my cock over the toilet bowl, but the drops did not move. I would have to flush the device out in the shower when I got home that night.
The following week – the sixth week of my deprivation, I could no longer go out. Everywhere I turned I found stimulus that would cause my cock to harden. I awaited in total desire for a call from my Mistress. I had expected she would demand my presence at least, and I could show her how much I was in her thrall, how utterly I had become her obedient service. But she left me alone, isolated, and without any chance of relief. It was then that I realized I served her as I had served no other Mistress. My adoration overflowed, my devotion was complete.
Imagine my elation five days Later when she finally called and demanded I attend her at her apartment. I did not dare to hope that my release was imminent. I prepared myself by shaving around my entrapped genitals and oiling my skin with a musky scent.
I arrived at my Mistress’s apartment and immediately went to her room where I stripped. I placed all my clothes nearly folded at the end of her bed, and kneeeled on the floor, offering her my collar, hoping she would place it around my neck and attach it to her lean. But she told me to drop it, crawl forward, and beg her. Before I knew it, I was pleading with her like a distraught child.
“Please Mistress,” I begged miserably. “Please release your obedient slave, I can bear it no longer.” She offered me her silettoed foot and my gratitude overflowed as she allowed me to lick the top of her shoe first, then the shiny black sole. I would have licked her entire shoe collection at that point, if I believed that was what it would take to earn my release. My pupils were dilated. I knew my cock was ready to spring to attention any second – an occurrence which I knew I must mask from my Mistress at all costs. I was so close torelease now. All I could do was hope that I pleased her. Hope, and wait.
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