Ascent into Chastity - Part 1 Seeds of Denial

Altairboy:

The story attached to this e-mail is mainly true. It's just that some of the words, names and locations have been changed, to hide my true identity. I've also spiced up the words a bit, but Anita and Edward do exist, and my ex-husband and I do live together in a caring relationship, where I am always laced tightly into a corset.

I haven't given the story a name yet. Provisionally, I've called it 'Ascent into Chastity', but whether that will be final name, I don't know. I am interested in getting more suitable names and comments.

Ann X

If you had asked me a few months ago, what a chastity belt was, I would have said that it was something that mythical maidens might have worn in tales of the Middle Ages, to enforce their virtue, whilst their menfolk were away doing a bit of corporate rape and pillage.

I had no idea of the reality!

I received a double dose of that one Monday night and the following lunchtime.

*****

Some might think that my lifestyle is a little bit unusual in that I live with my ex-husband and have done so for nine years now.

But then the early part of our marriage had been typical of many today. We'd married at twenty one, had a couple of kids, the associated money worries, parents who couldn't and wouldn't help, friends who told us so and all of the other pressures, so divorce had been inevitable.

We went our separate ways, with him becoming a success in computers, whilst I had trained and started practicising as a Chartered Accountant. A boring profession maybe, but I had two young kids to feed and support. It wasn't until our son got married in February 1992, that we actually saw each other again, although we'd had the ocassionally heavy and very heated row over the telephone.

We made an odd pair at that wedding, as at the time neither of us could find anybody else sensible or presentable enough to bring along. I'd just ditched a man, who was ten years my age, perhaps very good looking, but arrogant to boot, with not much fun or charisma and too much insecurity. Surely, if you're the older partner, then you're the one who expects the reassurance. He was also without the pneumatic, beautiful but rather dumb blonde, that our children had described in definitely less than reverent terms.

But we made up for the lost time, by getting rather drunk, and surprisingly woke with wicked hangovers, totally naked in the same four-poster bed, like a pair of well-fitting spoons.

I remember him turning me round and speaking in a very croaky voice, that had been ruined by other people's smoke and his own drink. 'There's two things about you that haven't changed. The small waist that attracted me in the first place, is still small for a forty-four year old. But not quite as small!' He then paused, as if he was expecting a reaction. Perhaps, even a violent one. 'And you can still scream the place down, when you have one orgasm after another after several.'

I hadn't remembered any of the latter that night, but judging by how relaxed I felt, I reluctantly had to agree with him. In addition, I did have an inner satisfaction and relaxation, I hadn't felt in my personal life for years.

*****

His comment about the waist though was what has left the longest mark on my lifestyle.

A week later, we decided to have a second go at living together or at least some mutual fun, so we took a flight to Ibiza and spent a glorious week at the Hotel Hacienda. It was strange restarting a relationship with someone, who you'd last lived with seventeen years previously. It was almost as we'd been transported back to Liverpool University, where we had originally met. Except that we were a little bit older, a good bit more well off and hopefully a little wiser.

Almost as a joke in one of the many leather shops on the island we found a very wide belt with three buckles, that was possibly a size too small and that night I wore it to dinner over a long cotton dress. A pair of shoes had completed the outfit, as I knew he had always liked me to be free and unencumbered underneath. Perhaps too, I knew I was getting older and that this was to be one of my last chances.

That night, he ruined the dress, as he took me violently immediately we returned to the room. The belt was still there in the morning and I felt it had improved my enjoyment, as the constriction had held together a body, that had been stretched and distorted twice by childbirth and had aged through the passage of time.

A week later, I went round to his flat and he presented me with my first corset. A simple black Axfords, that laced my waist back to the trim twenty-three inches of the day we had first met. It all seems rather tame now, in that as I write this, I am laced tightly to the normal twenty-one inches, that I am for every hour of every day and every night. The corset and the matching suit were made specially for me, by a delightful old lady in Paris, recommended to me by one of my clients in the entertainment industry. Sometimes being a tax adviser to the rich and famous has unusual compensations.

*****

If we do have a weakness, it is that we like to buy paintings by current and up-and-coming artists and that Monday night, we were to be found in the fashionable London village of Hampstead, at the sumptuous house of an art dealer, that doubled as his private gallery. Forty or so had been invited to see some of the latest work of an animal artist. Although we had never met the lady in question, we do have a few of her paintings, most notably one large piece of several rhinocerii. Painted at Whipsnade rather than in Africa, I'm afraid, but that is the state of the world today.

We had added a Whistlejacket style horse to our collection and were about to make our leave, when the artist and her husband approached us.

'Hello! I'm Anita and this is my husband, Edward!' She looked at our purchase. 'So you bought the horse?' She was a couple of inches shorter than my five six, slim, dark-haired, reasonably well kept for I would have guessed mid-forties and dressed in a simple, full-skirted, mid-calf, purple, velvet dress. He was perhaps twenty years or more older with a somewhat regimental bearing.

'We liked him!' We spoke in unison, holding the painting in front of her. Not that she needed to be shown it! 'Who is he?'

'I'm not sure who actually. I was at the Newmarket Stallion Show in December last year and it's a bit of a composite, with some artistic licence of mine thrown in.'

The conversation proceeded in a typically small way, until suddenly, Anita stood back, looked me up and down and then put her left hand gently behind my waist. 'You're corsetted aren't you?' She smiled. 'You have such a lovely figure. I must admit, I'm not beyond the joys of lacing myself, too.'

'Oh!' It was all I could say at her statement, that had come totally from nothing. 'Yes! I'm laced all the time.' I pointed. 'He likes it.'

'Men usually do!' Both of them smiled. 'Come with me, I've got a proposition and something to show you.'

*****

The artist led me by the hand, as one might a child, through the now emptying gallery to the spacious toilet in the hall. After checking it was empty, she pulled me inside. 'I'll be blunt. I want to do a series of paintings of ladies in their corsets.' She had her hands at my waist. 'Would you model for me?'

I was taken aback. Why would someone want to paint someone in their early fifties, who was obviously past her very best? 'I'm flattered. Thank you?'

'So will you do it?' She smiled at me. 'You have a wonderful figure. And an interesting face?'

'Thanks! Interesting face, indeed!' I didn't think for long. 'Yes! I'll do it. Come and stay with us for a few days.' After fumbling in my bag for a few moments, I handed her a card.

'That's West Suffolk isn't it?' She read the address from the card. 'So you're not far from Newmarket?'

'We're about ten miles to the south!' I remembered what she had said before she had taken me out of the gallery. 'You're made the proposition and I've accepted. What did you want to show me?'

She bent over and grabbing the hem of the skirt, she lifted it to reveal a pair of slim, still-shapely legs in lacy-topped, self-supporting stockings. Not too unusual! But as she raised it higher still eventually to above her waist, I gasped audibly. Her waist was wrapped in a polished, steel belt locked at the front, from which a solid front piece descended and enveloped her sex. As she turned, she showed how at the back the front piece continued as a solid bar following the crack of her behind and how it was firmly connected to the waist-band.

'Your face!' She smiled as she spoke. 'Solid Sheffield steel. Irremoveable without the key! And I don't have it!' She pointed at the lock and then took hold of the belt, pulling and pushing to show how tight, firm and unyielding it was. 'Haven't you seen a chastity belt before?'

I just stuttered. 'No!' I was stunned at it all. Questions were tumbling through my mind. Why are you wearing it? What did it feel like? Was it comfortable? How did you go to the toilet? Did it itch? Could you masturbate? Was any sexual relief possible?

She took my hand and pulled it reluctantly towards the belt.. The reflections in the mirror-like finish seemed to enforce the total security. 'I thought it would be cold!' Was all I could say, as I hesitatingly touched the front of the belt.

'Have you any questions?' She seemed totally calm and in control, despite the very intimate revelations.

'No!' I was still lost for words and almost in horror at what I had seen.

*****

'Well! I have one for you?' Still lost, I nodded. 'Can I see your corset?'

Now, let me say that I am by no means a prude and will happily bare all on a secluded beach in somewhere like the South of France or in front of friends who are in the same state of undress. But the question, out of the blue from this very direct lady, took me totally by surprise and I felt myself blush.

'Seriously, I'd love to see it!' I knew she was being very persistent, and was not going to take a negative response.

I put my bag on the dressing table in front of the large mirror and then took off the short emerald green jacket that I wore over a matching sleeveless, shift dress, that reached like most of my skirts to a couple of inches above the knee. I turned away from Anita, so that she could pull down the zip in the back. As I suspected she would, she obliged and in seconds she had slipped the dress from my shoulders, so that I could step from it.

Suddenly, everything hit me. What the hell was I doing taking off my clothes in the locked toilet of an art gallery with a very frustrated artist and standing there in just my tightly laced corset, stockings and heels? Perhaps, this was going to be a whole new experience. I could see the tabloid headlines. 'Magnificent! You do have a beautiful figure, that will make a superb painting! You'll like it.' I could feel her hands at my waist.

'I hope so!' Panic was now setting in fast. 'Can I get dressed now?'

'No!' There was a lot of strength in her voice. I was obviously not to disobey. 'Turn round first!' The tone was more dominant. 'If you're going to model for me, I want to see you from all angles and in various lights.'

'But I'm not at all decent!' I wasn't as the corset only supported my breasts and did not completely cover them, certainly leaving quite a bit more than the nipples exposed. She could also see from her position behind me, that I was knickerless.

'Turn round!' She was almost hectoring now. I finally obeyed and saw that she had slipped the velvet dress over her head and was virtually naked except for the steel and the lacy stockings. 'Hug and cuddle me! I need something desperately!' I did as I was told and floods of tears erupted over my naked shoulder and trickled down onto my breasts!

*****

'I'm very sorry! So awfully, awfully sorry!' Anita had virtually stopped crying now and I was cleaning her face with a tissue. At least she was wearing hardly any make-up, so repairing that would not be difficult and take very long. 'I shouldn't have done that! But, I do so miss my corsetted body, that I couldn't resist touching your's, when I saw it. I'm sorry if I offended. Being so frustrated doesn't help!'

'Don't worry!' She was calmer too and her strength was returning. 'When you've got an emotional daughter like we have, who does a very stressful job in PR, you get used to this sort of thing. I also get a few clients being very silly, when I tell them, that they're in serious trouble. Perhaps, I'm rather a mother figure. ' She laughed back. 'What's so funny?'

'Few mothers have bodies like you have!' She spanned her hands around my waist to measure it. 'Twenty-inch or so waists, no knickers and bare breasts with rings and diamonds in the nipples.' She smiled. 'And I bet there's more elsewhere!' I blushed, but I had noticed that Anita had pierced nipples too! 'We had better get dressed and join the men!'

*****

'Did she show you then?' The artist's husband, obviously knew some of what had happened in the toilet. Perhaps, my face had given it all away.

I nodded, whilst my ex just looked on puzzled.

'It's an experiment, to see whether if Anita is denied sex, it improves her art.'

*****

The next morning, as I sat in my office, I couldn't work. It was also lucky that two clients had cancelled leaving me free from midday onwards. I wouldn't have had much inspiration or even concentration for their problems.

All I did was sit there musing at what I had seen last night. The questions were still tumbling.

At about eleven, the phone rang and I was surprised to hear Anita on the line. 'I hope you enjoyed last night? And that you still like the painting! You seemed a bit shocked at my locked and frustrated state!'

I thought how she certainly is an up-front lady and that just added to the mystery of why she had allowed herself to be locked in the fearsome contraption. 'Perhaps, I was. Did it show?'

'Yes!' The artist was still being forthright. 'Edward and I also have a tax problem. A very unusual one! You're in that business aren't you?'

'True! I am!' I remembered the cancelled appointments. 'What are you doing today? I'm free for the rest of the day from twelve thirty.'

'Fine! How about the Neal Street Restaurant at one.' I know Antonio Carluccio's flagship restaurant well and it is only about ten minutes walk from where I sat. 'I'll ring again, if I can't get a table.'

*****

I actually arrived first and was early by perhaps five minutes, something that I rarely manage. But curiosity was nagging and the questions wouldn't leave my mind alone.

Anita wasn't late either and arrived with an enormous bunch of expensively presented flowers. She spotted me immediately and almost beat the attentive waiter to my table. After a quick greeting with more than the compulsory number of kisses, she presented me with the flowers. 'They're for the cuddle last night! It did me a lot of good!'

'Thank you! They're lovely. It was very much a new experience for me!' She had now sat down opposite me and had ordered a gin and tonic whilst I read the card, which backed up her original greeting.

She turned back towards me and immediately repeated her request for questions of last night. She was being her usual confident self today.

This time, I had my questions ready. 'I don't think you'll find me as tongue-tied as last night. Was Edward right about it being an experiment?'

'Partly!' She laughed. 'The chastity belt is a glorious experiment and we've thought about issuing a press release about it, if the art improves. But the belt is mainly as a punishment.' She paused. 'It's also to enforce my fidelity and stop me from straying.'

I know what it is to be submissive to a man. I love to go along with some of my ex's whims and ideas, but though he might display or humiliate me, he would never physically punish me in any way. 'Does he punish you often?'

'No!' Her confidence seemed to drain, as she searched for the right words. 'I deserved it! Remember, he's a lot older than I am, very rich...' She stopped in mid sentence.

'Tell me the whole story!'

'Here goes!' The invitation had restored her confidence. 'We married ten years ago. I was a struggling artist, who'd never married or had a family and he was a very rich widower, with three, grown-up children, who liked my paintings. Not many did and I was broke!'

'They're good!' I meant the reassurance. 'We bought one about eight years ago and still like it.' I counted the others on my fingers. 'And we've bought another three since including last night's.'

'But they're not very Tracy Emin. Not very modern! Not very original! In fact, very stuckist!' She paused for effect. 'All they are is quite commercial! Animals always are! I make a living from them! Not that I actually need one now!'

'So I take it from what you said, you strayed?' I was remembering my younger lover and his attitudes and the problems caused by an age difference much less than Anita's with Edward.

'I did and to cut a long story, he found out! It was about four months ago!' She half laughed, obviously remembering something she did not disclose to me. But I could imagine the classic scene of the irate husband and the naked couple in the marital bed, swimming pool or the jacuzzi. 'So he made me an ultimatum...' The waiter and a gin and tonic interrupted her flow.

After a sip, she continued. 'It was either a divorce, which would have left me a well-off divorcee.' She paused to choose her words. 'Or an agreement with my chastity enforced! And eventually a very rich widow!'

'So you chose the latter!' The professional in me could also see some unusual tax problems.

*****

A natural break in the revelations occurred, as we ordered main courses of fish for Anita and liver for myself. All of course with Carluccio's famous funghi and a very decent bottle of Sancerre!

'So what is the agreement?' I was now firmly hooked on her predicament.

'Remember, that Edward is not well. Not very well at all!' We'd seen him walking rather slowly last night with a stick, which had suggested deeper problems. 'He's a diabetic and sex for him over the last few years has become a bit difficult, to say the least. So permanent enforcement of my chastity was an essential for him. Almost to make us equal!'

'A bit drastic to my mind.' My hand reassured my body, by checking that I had no restriction except for my corset.

'I could still go out with anybody I wanted; to the theatre, the cinema or a meal. Or even away for a day or so! But no-one was going to be able to have sex with me.' She laughed. 'If you had a lover and you were trapped like me, what would your lover do?'

'Say goodbye!' I laughed rather self-consciously, but she seemed to accept what was to her probably an old and extremely tired joke!

'Quite! Mine ran like a frightened rabbit!' I joked with myself, as I sometimes wondered if I was only wanted for my body. And my tax and financial knowledge!

'How long are you kept locked?' I thought of an additional question. 'And when does the sentence end?'

'All the time, except for when he cleans me. And the sentence is life.' I gasped at the finality. 'Don't worry! Not mine! His! His solicitor has the combination of the safe, which holds the keys. Divorce would also give a blessed release. But from most of his money as well!'

*****

'It sounds like, you don't like it?' I still couldn't refer directly to the belt. 'Is it comfortable?'

'Of course I don't like being locked up! Would you?'

Twenty four hours ago, I would have agreed unhesitatingly. Now, my submissive side was yelling at me. 'It's an intriguing concept. But I would require release!'

'If you are locked and denied access, it is not your choice about release!' Anita took a long sip of the excellent wine. 'If your keyholder, says you can't be released except under his or her terms, then you can't!'

'Do you ever get release?'

'Not sexually! Edward only ever releases me with my hands cuffed behind my back. And that's for washing and shaving only. I could call him a bastard, but I do love him really!'

I was at last getting some of the answers I needed. 'I asked, if the belt is comfortable!'

'Of course not, but at least now I'm used to it and it doesn't chafe any more. Edward is at least very careful and caring when he does remove the belt! And he's ordered another one, that I can wear over a corset, which I hope will be much more comfortable! It should fit better and the corset will pad the steel from my body!' She smiled before continuing. 'But I hate the problems of the toilet, the itching and the absolute prohibition of masturbation. Sex for me is now becoming a very distant memory.'

I thought I could see a tear in her eye. 'Should I feel sorry for you? I did yesterday!'

'Of course not! Yesterday cheered me a lot!' The tear disappeared and she beamed. 'I brought this all on myself, because of my selfish behaviour. And it does have one certain advantage!'

'I can't think of one!' I could think of several, but all were concerned with the very submissive side of my nature.

'I feel strangely loved and very very safe!' She thought about another advantage and added it as an afterthought. 'Oh! And I think that the paintings are better in a brutal sort of way!'

*****

That night, I dressed for dinner in my so-called 'formal' wear of an overbust corset that covered my breasts, with complimentary silk stockings and heels, all in a beautiful black. I then cooked a very special meal of a fresh wild salmon and awaited my partner's return.

As we lay in bed that night I told him the full story of the previous night and a censored version of my lunch with Anita. 'Would you like to lock me in a chastity belt?' I had crossed the line by using the words for the first time.

[ Story continues in Part 2 ]
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Page last updated 01-Jun-13 by: Altairboy@aol.com