(Just something I wrote a while back, thought you might get a kick out of it...) Tonight was a special night. He drew the silky stockings up to his thighs, basking in the glory of nylon over shaved legs. With a cute pink bra and handwarmers to match, he only had one item left to complete the ensemble: The chastity belt. A steel sculpture resembling a thong, a waistband that curved over the hips and down into a flat mound that could make it seem there was nothing there at all to begin with. On the inside, rings lay in wait to safely secure his manhood, a tube pointing down to make sure no erections got beyond the planning stages. A sturdy band lead up the back, with two hinged pieces that could fold out to allow easy access to his anus without being removed, before finally meeting the belt and completing the loop. All in all, he found the belt a joy to wear... except he didn't really wear it. He got his kicks by sitting down, tucking himself delicately into the contraption, and closing it almost all the way. The final step, clicking the rectangular mechanism on the front of the band down on top of the crotch plate, was something he almost did the first time he received the belt in the mail - but a shining moment of clarity stopped him. It didn't come with the keys. In fact, the way the pieces snapped together, it didn't even come with a lock; finely crafted, the components all slotted together and held fast without any obvious way to hold them in there. He'd caught himself just in time, and gently rested the final two pieces on top of each other. The slot required pressure to engage, so he let it sit on top and gingerly wheeled his chair back to the desk, typing hurriedly. "Hey, the belt showed up but there's a problem." The answer came from the enigmatic friend he'd been in touch with for several months. They revelled in his fantasies of chastity, in suggesting things he should wear, in guiding his desires to explore feminine attire. They taught him how to have smoother skin, how to apply makeup, all the while only ever asking for an occasional photograph to give feedback. "A problem?" "Yes. There's no keys in the box, and there's not even any keyholes or locks on the belt that I can see." "Interesting. Did you put the belt on already?" "Nearly, I got as far as the last piece before I realised. Is the key hidden inside somewhere? Should I look in the box again?" The response took slightly longer to arrive this time. "Maybe. I think you should close it fully now." He took a deep breath. He looked down. Could he do this? The fantasies were all good and well, but without a way to escape, the reality made his skin crawl. Over a minute went by as he mulled it over, a tiny push standing between him and true denial. Finally, he made his decision. He pulled the band back up, worked his penis and scrotum back out of the rings, and undid the waistband to let the belt sit back in the open box on the floor. "I can't do this without the keys. Please, tell me you sent them." Several more calming breaths were required, his fantasies almost overwhelming him. "It's okay. The decision is yours." The message from his mystery companion, his guide, left him with more questions than answers. But for now, he was relieved he hadn't committed to something so final, without realising. The fact that he'd been so close lit a fire in his mind, the idea so shocking and tantalising that it served as fodder for some of the best orgasms he'd have in the coming weeks. From that day, the stranger only mentioned the belt once or twice. He knew quite little about them, aside from the fact that they were loaded - a few of his toys and clothes had come in the post from this mysterious benefactor, and now a full chastity belt. He'd taken meticulous measurements as requested, knowing what they were for without even asking. And just over a month later, there it was, a device tailored specifically to him. This person was keen on keeping him from masturbating, with the explanation that it was "more fun" the longer he went before orgasm. So now, to help that goal, they had sent over a gift. But it wasn't a gift. It was a trap. He kept it on top of the cupboard most times, but now and then he got a kick out of putting it on most of the way again, feeling it encase him, imagining how he could live with it on his person every day. The benefactor was amused when he'd recount his little adventures, telling him that the belt was meant to be used, not played with. But he never told him to close it, or order him to do anything he didn't want to, and for a couple of months they continued as they were before, sharing stories and pictures that excited them, fetishes that fueled imaginations. And now, he had a night to himself, a night to shave smooth and apply makeup, to take advantage of a pair of black high-heels and reach the box sitting atop the cupboard, his own specially made chastity belt ready to accept his feminine body. He perched precariously on the edge of his chair, feeling the gentle pressure from underneath. Somehow it made him feel safe, when he sat into the band and relaxed. Stocking-clad feet braced him on a smooth hardwood floor, and the plug he'd slipped inside beforehand was nudged deeper with his movements. He continued, savouring the feeling. More and more he shifted, until he reached the end of the desk chair. He tried to push himself back up, but with his feet surrounded by nylon, they lost their grip. "Agh!" With a shock, he fell hard, the chair skidding backwards. He felt the brutal impact on his cheeks, and directly on his perineum from the metal. It ached as he turned and got on his knees to stand up again. But he stopped. Looked down. The belt stayed attached to him, digging ever so slightly into his belly. He grabbed the waistband and pulled up. The crotch stayed firmly connected, tugging his junk with it. "... Oh." All he could muster was a noise of disbelief. In his ungraceful tumble, he hadn't heard the sound of an terrible, cruel, final clicking noise. A tiny movement with a big enough push and his choice was taken away. "... oh fuck." His breath was ragged as he pulled harder, digging at where the crotch plate met the hidden mechanisms inside the waistband. He twisted, yanked, tried to push it down over his hips, but the more he tried the harder it dug in to his flesh. This couldn't be happening. He wasn't ready. "Fuck fuck fuck!" He slammed a fist against the front, an unyielding barrier, firmly flattening his crotch. He was too scared to be horny, a wave of nausea approaching as his panic turned to despair. He resolved to ask his friend, tell them how he'd finally flew too close to the sun, and now his wings lay in ashes. Or rather, his plans to masturbate furiously lay in ashes. "Hey. Emergency. I was sitting in the belt again and... I accidentally locked it. I'm in it right now. Please, how do I open it again?" He tapped his fingers on it, impatient, desperate for a response. It arrived pretty quickly. "You did it? Oh, wow, I'm proud of you! How does it feel?" The stranger perked up. "It's comfortable enough, I guess, but I want to take it off. I never meant to lock it tonight, I was just enjoying myself." His mouth dry, his heart smashing its way out of his chest, he grit his teeth together to stop himself crying. "Comfortable... good. Very good. Well, as I said before, it was your choice the whole time. I said not to play with the device, do you remember?" He remembered. "I remember. I know you said to wear it straight away even without a way out. I wasn't ready then, and I am not ready now. Please, just tell me the way to undo the mechanism, or to pop open the lock, please!" Desperation had its roots deep inside him now, but even with his emotions spiralling out of control, he felt his erection strain against the tube. "I'm not sure if I should tell you or not. This could be exactly what you need... you have shared your fantasies with me, all those stories that excited you. Don't you want to experience it for yourself?" "No!" his hands trembled. "Please, I wasn't prepared. I can't wear this for..." He sent the message half finished, realising how long he might have to suffer this steel prison. Tears welled up, smudging his slutty makeup. "Listen to me. You are prepared for this. You are wearing beautiful, sexy clothes, your skin is so smooth and delicate. You are so perfect, and I'm so proud of you." Sniffing, he wiped his eyes and read the words, calming his breaths. They were like a gentle hand caressing his head, stroking his hair and telling him he would be okay. "You're going to be alright. I will admit, when I had the belt made and sent to you, I had hoped you would put it on right away. I knew from your sexual fantasies that this is the next step for you. It took a while, but now you can finally enjoy how it feels for yourself." Their words salved his panic, bringing his breathing back under control at last. A hand sat idly against his crotch, so smooth, so unburdened by genitalia. This was his life for now. He had no choice but to trust in the stranger, their influence reaching him in such a powerful manner. "Alright. I'm okay. Now, can you tell me how long I must wear the belt? You know that I've never gone longer than a week without release before." Typing, typing. "The device is comfortable, yes? It's conformed to the shape of your body, with accommodations for cleaning and going to the bathroom." He fondled around the metal, not a sharp edge or misplaced weld to be found. With his tension slipping away, the sense of comfort and safety crept back into his mind. "Yes. It is comfortable. Amazingly so. But I can't be like this forever, right?" The question chilled his blood. "Maybe." The answer made his stomach drop again, but he kept his cool this time. "Maybe? So you're saying there is some way I could get out? Is there something I can do, something you want maybe?" "There are many things that I want. Perhaps some of them may earn your release. For now, though, what I want the most in the world is for you to wear that belt 24/7, to sleep in it, bathe in it, wear it to college tomorrow. And the next day. This is what I desire the most. I want you to tell me how it feels during your day, how you feel when you stare at the cute girls you share a class with, how you envy them. Can you do all of this for me?" Reading the words made his heart skip once more, the reality of going full-time a difficult idea to process all at once. "I think so. I will do it for you. Though I don't have a choice now, do I?" "Like I said, you HAD a choice. It took you a while but I'm glad you made the right one. And I can't tell you how happy I am." He sighed. At least one of them was happy. "I'm glad. You've given me so much, and this belt, it's incredible. But please, just tell me, if there is something I can do for you, anything, I beg you. Please give me some way out of the belt." There was another tense pause. "Never ask again or I will destroy the only key." The change in tone hit him like a brick wall. "What?" "This is a warning. If you ever ask me to be released again, I will take your key, grind it into fine dust, then throw it away. You will never hear from me again. You will stay that way forever, and I will never look back." "Do you understand?" He sat agape, taking it in. They'd never been so strict before. Perhaps it was because now they had leverage, a genuine physical trap that they'd simply left in his possession, waiting for him to inevitably deliver himself inside of it. "I understand." "Good. I'm sorry to be so direct, but this is how it must be." The threat still echoed in his mind, traces of regret fluttering around after it. "It's okay. I'm sorry, I promise I will never ask again." "Thank you. This means so much to me. If you are okay with it, can I see some pictures of you? I'd love to see what you look like right now." And it was back to the caring, gentle words, as if nothing had happened. With his planned orgasm now indefinitely postponed, he had nothing else to do but to set up his camera and pose, his lingerie almost forgotten as the belt took centre stage. The stranger loved them, asking for more, requesting that he put on a favourite dress and lift it up suggestively, so that the devilish gleam of the belt could be seen. "Remember the time we chatted about girls in chastity, how you dreamt of a scene where a beautiful girl bends over in front of you and, what do you see? A belt peeking out, she's been wearing it to class the whole time. She knows you saw up her skirt, through her pantyhose. She confronts you, begs you, not to tell anyone else." The story aroused him once more, but this time all he could do was paw uselessly at his crotch. "Well, think of it this way: Now you can be that girl. You can go out in a skirt as short as you like, let the wind lift it or bend over without modesty, you'll be safe no matter what. All they will see is pure chastity." He would give anything to masturbate right now. Being out in girl's clothing was one thing, and he'd done it quite successfully in the past, but to have the chastity belt with him under every dress and skirt, was a maddeningly arousing thought. He could even wear leggings and yoga pants, and never have to contend with a bulge giving his secret away. "I'm not sure I'm brave enough to do that.... yet" he quickly added the last word, just in case. Everything they asked for could now come as an order, a demand, and he could have his only chance of release snatched away if he didn't comply. "Well, that's okay. It's going to take time until you're fully comfortable. Don't do anything you aren't ready to do." The words made him scoff. He wasn't ready to do any of this, to commit to abstinence from masturbation for the indefinite future. But he kept it to himself. "Okay, thank you for all the pictures. It's getting late, and you have class tomorrow." even their parting message sounded like instructions to him. "Alright. Good night!" He closed everything down, took everything off and hung it up nicely or placed it within its correct drawer, and collapsed on his single bed. In just a few short hours, his life had went around a rollercoaster loop. And as he looked down in the darkness, he saw the belt still there as he drifted off. It stayed there when he got up, it stayed when he showered (taking care to clean inside the belt, through what little gaps there were in the metal), walked to class, talked with his friends, stared at girls. It stayed with him all day, and it would stay with him for many days after that. The stranger he had put far too much trust in was obviously content to keep him that way, as it should have been obvious to him from the beginning. They were delighted as he grew restless, horny, and desperate.