Once I finished typing this out, I realized I would never be able to give it to anyone with my real name, so I'd like to post it here as a way to support such a useful and informative website that has meant a lot to me.
The subject: A chastity-belt wearing man finds himself the servant of a charismatic man and his modern-day harem.
This happened. It is a true story. This happened far away from where you are. Far away from your morals and judgments. In deference to the good name of the place it happened in, I will obscure the location as well as names. It was an interesting experience, but it was very tough and caused personal problems that I am just now getting over. While it might be fun to read about (and it was fun to write), strangely, it wasn't really pleasant to live at the time. Not anything anyone should especially aspire too… I guess any type of extreme titilation is best experienced in memory.
I was working overseas. I had played around with a local girl who I had trained to be my mistress. Not the optimal circumstance, but one takes what one can get. She wasn't really into it, but she had some idea of the spirit of bondage and discipline. I had a Jones-style belt which had been modified with anodized chains (the original chains being too easy to cut through with a hacksaw-I had really wanted to get out once).
My mistress had a boyfriend, Mr. X. Besides cleaning their apartment (which was right across from mine), I was charged with moistening and guiding the lover's parts together and applying, adjusting, and removing condoms as necessary. Mr. X didn't like performing oral sex. I wasn't in the chastity belt all the time, but as time went on and I got used to, I wore it more often than not.
One day I was driving them in Mr. X's car, when I lost control (I was going too fast) and we went off the road. No one was hurt, but the car was totaled (the frame was bent). The insurance was inadequate to cover the costs and with my modest salary it would have taken forever to pay off the damage. My mistress and Mr. X offered me a deal-remain belted for a year and be let out once each month, contingent on good behavior, to cum. During that time I would continue cleaning their room and serving them as they saw fit. I could even date, just no sex. If I served my time, Mr. X would forget about the damage. I never had been in completely enforced chastity, so this was a tailor-made opportunity. I knew how rare it was to find others whose fetishes intermesh with one's own, so I took the plunge.
I had to sign a binding promissory note to pay for the damages if I violated the terms of the deal and guarantee it with my savings. The agreement was given to a local lawyer to hold along with my bank documents. My mistress and I also had many videos we had made of ourselves. These, along with my passport, were given to the local area police captain who Mr. X was friendly with. These were also to be held as collateral to make me fulfill my obligation. This captain was quite an admirably nasty fellow, involved in all manner of vice in the area and I didn't know he would be given the vidoes and passport until after the event. It kind of scared me. Mr. X seemed fair, but impressed on me that if I crossed him, he would go to any length to enforce our agreement and punish disobedience. He reminded me that there were places where foreigners, male and female, could be impressed into "difficult" work and that he now held sway over me completely.
All my chastity belt locks were changed (to make sure I didn't have a key). The keyholes were covered with some kind of plastic to detect tampering. After the threats wore off, it was kind of a turn on. I would continue to serve my mistress and Mr. X, but in a more structured way. However, it would be the first time I wouldn't have a key and be forced to be in the belt 30 days in a row.
The second day after the agreement, my mistress broke up with Mr. X and left without a word to me. It was quite a shock. I didn't realize how much she meant to me until she left. I assumed I was left to serve Mr. X. Being without a connection to a woman left me with mixed feelings about the bargain I had made. The rest of the week I cleaned Mr. X's room and thankfully saw little of him.
I never knew Mr. X's nationality-only that he wasn't American. Although I didn't know him well, I had some admiration for him. He was the king of exhibitionism. He liked to push things. He always had his 35mm and video camera at hand to create evidence (this was the mid-1990's before digital was all the rage). Like I, he was obsessed with a woman's ass and would dress up his conquests in a tanga (or thong) style bathing suit when they went to the beach.
He only cavorted with local university girls. There was a certain pride-which he taught me as well-in debasing a good girl, especially one who thinks she knows what she is doing and believes she is mature and worldly. He wasn't into "stupid" virgins. The conquest of a good girl was proof of his power and even more of the girl's honor and submission to him. He had a disdain for looseness and would never even consider fucking a whoreish girl. As he would say, "there are girls that will fuck and suck you silly behind closed doors and then hypocritically deny you in public." Mr. X would have none of it-fucking and devotion for him would be 100%. At any one time he had multiple girlfriends of which my mistress had only been one. Sometimes several would arrive at his apartment on Friday night and then emerge Sunday afternoon with sated smiles. On the surface, they were all great, intelligent girls. I don't know how he did it.
I had never been asked to assist him with his new conquests, Jen, Bay, and Boo, until I was told I would be going with them to a nearby island for a holiday. It was an emotionally-charged situation for me. I knew all these girls. They were all lovely, kind, local college girls in their 20's from good families. Jen was a former girlfriend of mine and I had worked with Bay at my office in the past. Boo was the most recent acquisition. She lived in another apartment down the hall, but I didn't know her name until she started sleeping over with Mr. X. I was fascinated that he was able to have them all at once. Scenarios kept flashing through my head. I didn't know what I would be required to do on the trip or what they would think of me. I didn't want to ask either. I had been keeping silent around Mr. X. Later I would realize that his freedom with the girls was already causing me to accept my fate and become silent and deferential.
The Way There
Three hours out of town we reached the the ferry dock to the island. We boarded for the short 20 minute trip. The girls were wearing short shorts and t-shirts-not much different attire from other girls on the boat. What was different was the tanga swimsuit each was wearing underneath. Once on the island, we took a rickety jeep as far as it would go-halfway across the island to where a brief, steep spine of land rises up, separating once side of the island from the other. We started walking along a trail that led to the other side of the island. We were alone. Tropical-looking banana plants were interspersed with some odd variety of tall sculpted pines. Dappled golden light broke through the canopy when the wind blew. The girls and Mr. X chatted. I silently carried their bags. The sea breeze was a tonic.
A half an hour into our walk Mr. X. turned and said, "ok, let's see those tangas." The girls momentarily hesitated and then dutifully took off their shorts, revealing their perfectly curved and shiny bottoms artfully separated by a tanga. I took a few deep breaths. Their asses were perfect, as yet undamaged by years of sitting at a desk or blasted by casual sex and childbirth. They were breathtakingly high, tight, and firm. He then ordered them to strip off their t-shirts. "You'll only need your swimsuits for this trip." He took the small bag of belongings they had brought and sorted out their money, IDs, and shorts and put it all in a small backpack that he hid out of sight in the crook of a tree a few meters from the trail. The girls, now possessing only two-piece tangas, looked at each other shyly and nervously. This would be all they would wear for the next four days.
Their glances shifted to me. "Don't worry. He won't be bothering you. Show them." I knew what he meant. I pulled down my shorts a bit to reveal the chastity belt. The girls, seizing on an excuse to forget their shame, giggled and tinkered with the lock, even though I had thought they knew the truth about my condition before. Why else would I have been cleaning Mr. X's room? Mr. X smirked, "He won't be unlocked on this trip. The keys are back in town. He's a slave. He's going to assist us." There was an evil finality in what he said. I couldn't even hope. There was no possibility. I blanched at having to be around these gorgeous girls for so long. Maybe only men can understand this. For the rest of the way to the beach Mr. X walked in the rear, to see their bottoms, I assume. I led the way and could only imagine it.
The hardest thing was the extra long look Jen had given me when she saw my belt. She had been my former girlfriend and knew about my chastity belt before. I had it when we were going out. Her bemused and innocent take on my condition that day seemed to mock me. I was still dazed at how she had fallen into the sphere of Mr. X.
When we first met she resisted me for a long time. I was always trying to get her to wear short shorts but she was always too shy, so I was surprised that after her first night with Mr. X, she wore the pair of short shorts I had bought for her, but had refused to wear before. She was one of a long line of girls that I didn't appreciate until they were gone. Jen was tallish, with a wonderful sleek body, small but adequate breasts (suitable for her body type), and a long, but firm ass. She had a great perky, intelligent, simple, unhungup personality, was a good student, didn't drink, and always enjoyed herself and her friends. Her face was pleasant and cute and she had a habit of letting her hair become disheveled. Perhaps it was that she worked two jobs while going to accounting school. She was from a modest hard-working family and the local boyfriends she had probably preferred bosomy girls who looked like Pamela Lee Anderson and couldn't appreciate how lovely she was without being overtly beautiful.
She fucked the way she did everything-gently smiling with eyes literally wide open. She would also laugh occasionally like she couldn't believe she was doing it-like she was always having good clean fun. My favorite memory of her was her once putting on her glasses (which she only used when studying) while fucking to better see what she was doing. She'd always be in my heart.
We made quite an entrance on the beach-the three girls in their tangas, Mr. X, and I carrying a single bag for Mr. X's clothes. Foreigners were always doing wacky things here and local girls were getting more and more daring so aside from a few long glances, things went ok. It was also midweek, so there were not too many beachgoers were on the island. I still walked in the front, studious obeying my role, so I didn't see the girls' reaction, but judging from Jen's quiet giggle, I assumed she was having fun being part of a spectacle. We checked into our bungalow on an relatively isolated section of a long beach.
Night came quickly. Even though I couldn't have sex, strangely that was all I focused on. I prepared condoms and steeled myself to assist in the undertaking, somewhat curious to see what it would be like, but afraid of my reaction to not being able to join in. I took my customary position, kneeling alongside where the action would be.
The girls expertly began their work on Mr. X and I assume this meant they had done it together before. My mind was spinning. The girls quickly followed Mr. X's lead in ordering me around. Jen, especially, gave me specific instructions on how to satisfy her. As I toiled away on her pussy, I couldn't help straining my eyes upwards to watch how she was looking at Mr. X and deeply kissing him. I realized our roles had forever changed-I was no longer a former boyfriend, just a utility to her. I would sit back from time to time, sighing while the girls rocked back and forth on him. But no one heard me. Their slapping noise overpowered me and the sound haunted me long after.
They ended up laughing and kissing. Then they went into the shower together. I could have easily gotten up and gone somewhere, but there was nothing to do-nowhere to go-I was a slave. I was in a room where three beautiful and smart girls willing fucked a man I was pledged to serve and who controlled me completely. There was no point in going anywhere or doing anything.
The next day we all took a walk. They were completely relaxed and satisfied, but I was churning inside. I wasn't sure if this trip was going to be the best or worst experience of my life. My mind turned to Bay and her performance the night before. Her intensity was hard to describe. She seemed to light up when they all got down to business. And her body was sublime.
I first knew her from work. I was the one who introduced her to Mr. X. Bay was one of those girls who studied too much and was a daddy's girl. Her father was some supposedly high-ranking guy in the local military and she was from a very good family. I wondered what Mr. X did for her that made her forego the "normal" life I assume she had dreamt of as a little girl.
She was slim, but there was no way to tell how good her body was. She was short, but didn't seem overtly so. She wore glasses and often subtly leaned forward as she listened to you like she had trouble taking everything in. Sometimes she was kind of clueless. Without her glasses on she had the open, unfocused look of a calendar girl and on this trip her glasses had been left back in town.
Knowing what I knew now, I realized I shouldn't have dismissed her as a romantic target. She had once shown a barely perceivable attraction to me in the distant past, but I had dismissed her as plain, and now I saw I had been in error. Before she met Mr. X, she always dressed unstylishly - mainly utilitarian skirts. As I discovered from the revelries the night before, she had the best body of the three girls. In fact, she had a superlative form, even taking into account she was from an ethnic group with typically fantastic bodies.
Awake in the dark
We spent the day walking down to the end of a rocky spit of land and then returned when a misty storm front blew in. By evening a thick, slow rain was falling. That night he did all three again. It was intense. I got a sexual thrill without getting an erection. Those who have worn a chastity belt faithfully and honestly might understand…
They did it on a large sofa in front of an open window. Rain gently fell and occasionally mist drifted into the darkened room. It may be that my restrained state made everything more vivid and sharp, but it seemed to me they all sucked him more intently than any man had been sucked, trading off between cock, nipple, and mouth, as he sat there lazily enjoying it all. At the moment of penetration the girls came alive even more than the night before, all vigorous and unbowed. I had once been told by my former mistress that once you were fucked by Mr. X, you were addicted. She said that there was just something about being on his cock that electrified a girl. I guess he just knew how to do it right.
I sometimes hated Mr. X and that night was one of those times. I fidgeted uncomfortably and the wooden floorboards seem to cut into my kneecaps as I sat expectantly by. In a moment of great and uncanny perception that he was constantly capable of, Mr. X stopped the proceedings for a moment to handcuff me and attach me with a collar to the center sofa leg so that I might witness the orgy without fear that I might become agitated and interfere.
I was straining in my belt as they continued. I would have done anything with anyone (Prince's Anna Stesia was going through my mind that night). I would have promised or given up everything for one moment of release. I felt like launching myself into the tangle of sleek bodies before me and ripping off the skin of everyone in sight. But I couldn't. That night I learned my place. Even now the sensual gasping of a woman can stop me and make my mind affect a servile attitude. My mind wandered at the same time it was riveted to the debauchery before me.
Sometime after they all finished, a beetle found its way into the cabin and began flying about, clanking around the room, keeping me up hour after hour. They had fallen into an exhausted and nonashamed sleep in the nearby bed. I remained chained and kneeling at the sofa that was still wet from their revelries. I started to feel almost enthusiastic about serving them. I hoped they had really satisfied him. I was in awe of how he bound the girls to him. Mr. X and his conquests snoozed, breathing in harmony, as the night wore on. The beetle was clumsily flying about in the dark. I slumped over onto my side on the floor and I kept my eyes open listening to the random clack of the beetle as it hit the walls.
The next day Boo, who I knew the least about, was punished by being sent with me to get beer. I don't know what she had done and I didn't ask. I think she was supposed to realize that Jen and Bay would spend the day playing with Mr. X while she was out with me buying beer. I think she was supposed to think it was beneath her to go out with me-or maybe it was a loyalty test. Doing a beer run would mean a trip into a small "village" area-the most heavily populated area of the island. Boo had been ordered to switch tangas with Boo and now would be wearing the smallest tanga. The stares would be great. Without a second look, Boo walked out of the bungalow and I followed.
Boo was the kind of girl who had been away from home too long. She thought she knew it all. Before Mr. X she had a platonic, dopey boyfriend-the kind of guy who would never realize how sexy she was. She usually wore shorts that were too short and didn't know it. Her face was cute and somewhat pretty, but she had an awesome body-breasts and ass to die for-and her legs were perfectly curved in the right places.
Boo's apartment was down the hall from Mr. X's and mine. Her door was always open and once could usually see her padding around inside. One month before, Mr. X unexpectedly sent Jen to my room and walked into Boo's open door. I don't know if they knew each other before, but when her door closed, Jen and I knew what was going on inside. We looked out my door and down the hall for a few moments. Then we closed the door. That night Jen stayed with me. I wondered if she would be jealous, but she seemed her jolly, giggly self, merely saying, "I can't believe it." The only emotion she had was expectation-expectation of being in on the ground floor of new gossip-Mr. X had a new girlfriend. Until that night I didn't know how wonderfully wild Jen was-she was going to willingly tolerate being one of several girlfriends to one man.
The next morning Boo's door opened and Mr. X returned to his room. Boo's door didn't open again until late that night. She came out wearing her customary short shorts and a long t-shirt and knocked on his door. He opened the door and drew her in. I could hear them arguing for awhile before the expected silence. That night he sealed her fate. From then on she was a fixture of the group. She had no trouble wearing the short dresses Mr. X required of her and sheepishly obliged to be one of Mr. X's "harem."
Later I found he had taped their first semi-forced encounter. He just judged the situation and figured he could get away with it. After the first night he subdued her with threats of showing the video. She was just dumb-only worried about people knowing, but I guess she got used to her fate. She came around. She always did her duty vigorously and was the only one who seemed to compete with the others for Mr. X's attention. I had a feeling, I could never prove, but just a thought, that he wished they all competed. Boo always kept her eyes tightly shut when fucking.
My trip to the village with Boo for beer turned out to be a highlight. Nowadays, if one is lucky, one might find a girl in a two-piece suite with a near tanga (the kind that covers the butt-cheeks, but prematurely goes into the crack), but in those days the local girls with awesome bodies wore t-shirts and long shorts to swim in. That day Boo had on a two-piece suit with a tanga bottom. We were celebrities. And contrary to my fears that she would be self-conscious and shy, she walked around totally oblivious to the condescending and admiring stares from girls who secretly wished they had boyfriends who required such attire.
It may have been revenge against the punishment, but that day Boo treated me as if we were lovers. Our hand-holding and body language made everyone think we were an affectionate boyfriend and girlfriend. I worked hard to stamp out the blank look created by my chastity. Being under such sexual tension creates a cleared mind and blank look that wouldn't be on the face of a guy walking around with his girlfriend in a tanga, so I pretended to be a stud. Even though I would never be able to do anything about it, Boo made me feel good that day and my esteem for her rose immeasurably. I came back strutting.
Up her ass
But that experience was an exception. Most of the time I had to keep my mind off the carnality around me. I drank beer whenever possible to get a little buzz. Even now I unconsciously check my emotions when I find myself thinking about it. It's amazing what one can be trained to do and how long the training remains afterwards. Especially when watching Jen was I not able to control myself. Maybe she wasn't obviously the most beautiful, but I had been there before. I had been the incompetent boob that had deflowered her and then didn't call her and then called her when I was desperate. Fuck! I'd never done anything right. It hurt my heart to see her slapping flesh and loving it. She was often on top and kept great rhythm. Why couldn't I have done it for her? I'm not sure. Maybe because she was always a gentle submissive and I needed a dominant.
That night these thoughts flew through my head as I watched him fucking her in the ass. I say "fucked" because most often he tamed them by making love, but sometimes he just fucked. And now he had her in the ass. I don't know how he did it. She was pretty small. She was gritting her teeth, but enjoying it-I could tell. In a way I didn't want to think about it. I reached down and tried to free myself. As you can see, my focus was on the ass, tangas, etc., not breasts, and him doing it to my former girlfriend in the ass was too much. I never had had any woman that way-no girl would let me.
I fumbled with the belt, but it wouldn't come off. I looked at Jen's giggling face, her university-grad, good-girl, giggling face fucking him willingly and, in her way, innocently. I looked at the tenseness in her thighs, the malevolence in her erect breasts, the way she gave it all, the way she accepted being a slave, just a tool of her dick that mastered her. I realized she had been with me and I couldn't give it to her-she didn't even confide in me anymore. Something snapped. I realized that when I had been free, I wasn't able to satisfy anyone. Oh, I had fucked and sucked heartily, but could I make a slave out of someone? No. Could I have taken these girls out and had the courage to walk around with them wearing tangas? No. A quote from Goethe came to mind: When another is vastly superior to you, there is no remedy but to love him. I decided I wanted to get through this the right way. I wanted to accept this. I resolved not to do anything to get out. I knew I had to remain belted. I would keep my promise. I would accept it. We all had our role. Maybe this would be mine. This wasn't about them, it was about me.
The next morning things were changing. Bay had convinced Mr. X to go to a nearby island-significant since Mr. X always stayed apart mentally from all of us. Usually, we all had to fulfill our roles simultaneously to provide for his pleasure. If they went together it meant a one-on-one connection and not a group event. I think Boo clinched the trip with her sexual vigorousness and the fact that she would be wearing her tanga on a ferry where lots of people would see it-it wasn't a relatively isolated spot like the beach we were on now. One of my vivid memories was of her opening the door, pulling him out, her asking to spend the next night on the next island, her bringing nothing but the slim tanga she was wearing. And I was standing by watching, completely unmanned… It's one of those singular feelings like unexpectedly seeing a person get hurt. I was blanked out for a few minutes and not sure whether I was closer to laughing or crying.
Before he left that morning, he stripped Jen and Boo and put a locked leash on them so they could get to the pantry and bathroom, but not leave the bungalow. I was left free, but couldn't be any more restrained with my belt. We were all silent for about an hour after they left. Every time Jen and Boo moved about the bungalow, the whir of the chain across the floor gave me a chill. Would I be able to take 11 more months of chastity? I consoled myself that once I was allowed to cum, things would be better. I decided to go out walking.
It was refreshing and disorienting to be alone for a change. I crossed the island and walked along the shore on the opposite side. I ended up sitting on the beach in the twilight. It seemed that a million young lovers strolled by. Maybe it was my state of denial, but all seemed to be bodacious females with nerdy males. It also seemed each girl stole a glance at me longingly before trudging along with her man. But as I wasn't capable of real satisfaction, I could only imagine the bliss her sublime, innocent body would attain with her average man. Why couldn't I do that? I was learning the answer-I was different.
Groups of people around bonfires dotted the beach. A local invited me over to a bonfire with her friends. She was a great girl. I knew it right away. Someone had a guitar and we all sang songs like the Eagles' Hotel California and I got to explain for the thousandth time that I had no idea what the lyrics meant. I spoke the native tongue for awhile until the girl spoke to me in nearly perfect English that had a trace of a sexy accent. Her name was Donna. I knew her kind. She liked me because I spoke her language and understood her. She had gone to high school in the US and then was forced back to her home country-a place that wouldn't accept the way she thought now.
I'll admit it. If you don't know already, I'm a cad. You probably are too if you are reading such a tale as this. I'm completely selfish. Something new happened that night that made my bound life worthwhile. That night, first the first time, I related to a female without thinking of sex. I didn't even know I was flirting. No matter what else happens in my life, I'm thankful I met her and was belted that night.
As the night moved forward, the others drifted off and we were left alone by the gently churning sea. I was already worried about leaving her. I had to go the next morning. I was hoping she wouldn't happen to see me with Mr. X and his harem. Part of me was afraid that Mr. X would get his hands on her, but maybe this was just paranoia. I wanted to hold Donna forever and protect her. She gave me her number. We talked about everything and eventually we kissed. I kept slowing her down and that made her more crazy. So I told her how wonderful she was. That just stoked the fires. After I slowed her down and changed the subject a third time (she volunteered she had gone topless at another local beach-I didn't believe it, though), she stopped and we held each other for the rest of the perfect night. The next morning I woke with that pleasantly wind-burned feeling one gets from sleeping on the beach. Asleep, she was still the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I kissed her gently and stole off.
The second I was gone, I was suddenly scared that I had stayed out the entire night. Mr. X might have intended me to supervise Jen and Boo while he was gone. Now that I had met Donna, I wanted to fulfill my part of the bargain without any trouble and have a relationship with Donna. I came back to the bungalow breathless, but Mr. X hadn't returned. Jen and Boo were huddled together on the sheetless bed, their leashes draping sexily across the floor. I couldn't tell if they were awake or not. A fear suddenly came over me that they would tell Mr. X I had spent the night out, but it was just my paranoia again.
Around mid-morning Bay and Mr. X returned. There were quite a few people on the beach now-the island was filling up for the weekend. Bay and Mr. X walked around for awhile. I assume they went to the village for a bite. Often foreigners, especially Swedish, would wear a tanga or even sunbathe nude here, but it was uncommon among locals. Indeed, to get a local girl to openly wear a tanga was quite an honor. Many of the locals looked upon it as a new fashion and secretly admired the "modern" girl who would do it. I wish I could tell you what it was like for Mr. X and Bay to spend the night on the next island. I've done licentious things myself since, but I'm sure nothing that would compare to that. From the glimpse I got of Bay, I could tell she was contented and proud. I can only imagine what that was like for Mr. X to have his dreams come true. Even today I still can't say my dreams have come true for me. I could only imagine the way people looked at her boldness. She wanted him to herself and got him-even as Jen, Boo and I were still his slaves, body and soul, and would remain so for a long time. Bay had given him what he wanted-everything-and the display of her devotion to all by showing her toned ass up and down the beach and on a boatful of her compatriots… well, there's nothing left to say.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. We packed up what little there was and started walking back down the spine of the island, retrieving the girl's belongings where Mr. X had hid them. We got back to the mainland silently, happily, and wearily, each of us cataloging our respective memories.
My thoughts were of Donna. My agreement with Mr. X allowed dating but no sex and I was wondering how I would deal with her. For once I was hoping she was a good girl. I had never had such a relationship before. Maybe I would really learn to really love her before we fucked. What an idea! Old-time love. I wondered if she would she wait for me. As it turned out, I found Donna to be an understanding and licentious mate. But that's another story… I was only beginning the slave's journey.
I remain firstname.lastname@example.org
Copyright 2000 random order
[ Back to chastity fiction page ]
Page last updated 00-Jun-21 by: Altairboy@aol.com