It took Stephen a week to pluck up the courage to ask her out. He’d been with the company a month and she had been assigned to look after the newbie. A month had been enough for him to become besotted with her. She was calm, confident, intelligent, beautiful. She commanded any room she was in through the strength of her personality. She had presence. Frankly, she had everything. Little by little, Stephen was falling in love. She’ll never say yes, he told himself. She’s out of my league. “Would you like to go out with me?” he said finally, at four o’clock on his fifth Friday with the company. If she said no, he figured, he’d have the weekend to try and get over the humiliation. She looked him up and down. He waited for rejection. “Okay,” she said. “I’m free tonight.” “Tonight?” “Or don’t you want to?” “Yes, yes I do.” “Great. The Pina Bausch dance company are here at the moment. Sadlers Wells Theatre. Take me there.” “Who?” “Pina Bausch dance company. From Germany. You must have heard of them?” “Sure.” “Great. Book the tickets. Pick me up at seven.” And she swung her jacket over her shoulder and walked out. Stephen googled Pina Bausch on his phone. Modern dance, he read with dismay. Experimental. What the hell do I want to go to modern dance for, he thought. And then he checked the ticket prices. £150 each. “No way!” he said, knowing as he did that he would buy them as instructed. And he did. He picked her up as arranged and she told him what to expect in the dance. His heart sank. “How long does it last?” he asked. “Three hours. But there’s a break.” In the break he bought her champagne and lied about how much he was enjoying himself. Strangely, though, it didn’t matter to him that he wasn’t. He saw the expression on her face, could tell that she was having a good time, felt good about being able to make that happen. And, who knows, he thought, afterwards there will be a kiss and some fondling and who knows where that might lead? To his bed, he hoped, with his newly laundered sheets and packet of condoms on standby! “Thanks,” She said afterwards as he stopped outside her house. “That was fantastic.” She opened the door of the car and stepped out. “Are we not having coffee?” “I am. You can have some when you get home. See you on Monday.” And she went inside. Stephen’s mind was buzzing. No kissing, no fondling, nothing, but what the hell, it had still been a date. With her. What could be better! The dates continued every weekend through spring and into summer. He took her to Les Miserables, Hamilton, Mamma Mia, Chicago. Nothing he was remotely interested in but he didn’t care. She enjoyed it, and that was all that mattered. But, after each date, the evening ended the same way. “Thanks. See you Monday.” As the summer days grew hotter, so did Stephen’s desire. It was driving him insane. He wanted her. He needed her. He would have to talk to her, he resolved. Clear the air. Find out where he stood. “What are we doing this weekend?” he said on Friday afternoon. “West End again?” “Actually, no.” She gave a beaming smile as she sat back at her desk. She sipped the coffee he had just made her. “I want you to come round to mine.” Stephen’s heart lurched in his stomach. This was it. The moment. She was going to relent. “Brilliant,” he said. “Wear old clothes.” “Sure. Why?” “You wouldn’t want to get paint on your good gear, would you?” “Paint?” He spent the entire weekend painting her house – living room, dining room, hallway, stairs. Everywhere but the bedroom. “You’re not allowed in there,” she said. “Of course,” he replied, feeling as low as he’d ever felt. ‘In there’ was the only place in the world he wanted to be. He stared at the closed door barring the way. Disappointment coursed through him, emboldened him. Finally, he spoke of his desires. “Will we ever?...” “Ever what?” “You know. Kiss. Make love. That.” “Maybe.” He had expected outright rejection so her response filled him with hope once more. “Yeah?” he said. “Yeah. Maybe.” She stood in front of him and stared at him seriously. She nodded. “And if it happens, you won’t get any notice. I’ll just phone you and tell you to drop everything and get round here. Understand?” “Yes...” “No, really. Do you understand?” “I think so.” “I don’t think you do. What I’m saying is that if and when I want you, you will come running, and you’ll be ready for me.” “Yes, of course.” “Of course. Ready. So that means, no satisfying yourself in the meantime. None of that. Because when I say, you have to be ready.” She smiled again. “Now, do you understand?” Stephen nodded but he wasn’t sure he did. What was she saying? He couldn’t touch himself, ever again, in case she called for him? Couldn’t... couldn’t... Was he capable of that? “Yes,” he said. “Good boy. Run along now. See you Monday.” She saw him out and closed the door on his face. He turned and looked at the fresh green paint. He was aroused but he knew, he just knew, that he wasn’t going to be able to do anything about it. Ever again. And in this way, unknowingly, unwillingly, Stephen entered chastity.
If all women made men prove themselves before giving men intimacy, there would be many more healthy relationships and happy people.
The cheapest and most effective chastity device of them all, his own very mind. Even though he was free to do what he wished, it did not matter one bit.
Wow mistress, if life were truely like this in every relationship, everything would rn a lot smoother
Mistress’s strength, intelligence, and understanding of the weak & malleable male mind. it kneels and genuflects in honor & respect to it’s Mistress.
Great story wondering if he would do the paint job to the satisfaction or needs of the mistress fulfillment hope for another part thanks Miss Lucy.