The Chaste Divorce, part 1

Friday May 2nd 2003

I had been married to my wife for nearly 23 years when she broke the news to me that she wanted a divorce. I will not go into any detail over the whys and who’s, it is sufficient to say that communication had gradually broken down to the point where we were no longer the loving, caring couple that had raised two wonderful boys together. This is however not a story about my divorce, but rather about some very special circumstances around the divorce:

About two months earlier, my Neosteel chastity belt had arrived, and I had gradually adapted to wearing it full time. She had made it perfectly clear that the chastity belt was "my thing" that she wanted nothing to do with, although she was willing to tolerate the activity as long as it did not directly involve her. She was therefore not holding the keys, but she was aware that I had become almost a full time wearer, leaving the keys to inaccessible to myself whenever I had an opportunity.

When she left, the belt was locked on. I gave the belt no thought whatsoever before the next morning, when I realized that she had taken the suitcase where I hid the keys. However, I did not quite feel like calling her and asking about the keys.

We met the following Monday to discuss practicalities, person to person, no lawyers. We agreed that since she had moved out, I should remain living in the house until the end of our one year mandatory separation period. Then she sprung the surprise on me:

"I know that you are at the moment wearing that darn chastity belt of yours, and I am also aware of the keys that are in my suitcase. The last year, you have been really bitchy and arrogant towards me, and I want to teach you a lesson. The way the paperwork is made up in our marriage agreement, I get about 90% of our common estate when everything is settled at the end of our separation period. I know it is not fair, and that morally you are entitled to at least 50%, but I have secured my financial interests and you have not. Therefore I offer you a deal. You stay locked in the chastity belt for the full year of our separation period, and I will agree to split our estate 50-50. No lawyers, just my word of honour. You need to learn humility, and I’ve read on the net that a chastity belt is a perfect tool to teach a male that. Besides, you can no longer sneak into the bathroom and give yourself a hand-job whenever you fancy, so I guess that I am really doing you a favour. To top off the list of benefits, you will probably not fool around too much while wearing steel panties."

I had no response, so she continued:

"I will let you out occasionally to clean and inspect your parts, but at those occasions I will do the cleaning. And don’t worry; during our 23 years of marriage, I’ve seen you naked enough times. Do we have a deal?"

My only response was some non-distinct noises of protest, until I finally managed to say: "But I thought that you hated this BDSM stuff... "

"What fun is it to be a top, when you can not let go of control for a second, and insists of topping from the bottom? This way I get in control -- and stay there. But I am running late. I will see you in a week; I’ll send you a text message with the address. Meanwhile, if you try to tamper with the belt or the lock, the deal is off, and you are left almost penniless. Here, I have one of those numbered locking seals with me. Put it on while I watch!" I tried to protest, but was cut off short. Once she was satisfied that the seal was properly in place, she said "Bye sweetie," kissed me on the forehead and left without even looking back.

Only then did it hit me. That the belt was to stay on for a full year. No relief. No self service hand jobs. I did not know what scared me the most: Being alone for the first time in 23 years, or wearing steel panties for a year.

For the benefit of those of you that don’t know the Neosteel Sports belt, I can tell that it is a most secure instrument of chastity. The penis tube is however wide enough to allow the penis quite some movement, so you get stimulated whenever you move. The wire between your buttocks constantly rubs your rear opening, creating a constant stimulation there. I could probably have learnt to pick the padlock, but with the numbered seal in place, there was really no point, as the broken seal would be solid evidence of tampering, and the deal would be off. I did of course have the option to settle for 10%, but that was a not a very tempting prospect.

Frustration was mounting, so even if I knew that I had lesser chances than a snowball on a warm summer day in hell, I spent the following hours trying to wriggle out of the belt and to get some stimulation that would grant me even the tiniest relief. This was of course a total waste of time. When I finally gave up, the chock of really having lost control hit me like a ton of bricks. Besides, my locked down member was itching like mad. I ended up in the shower, trying to get some water in the penis tube to stop the itching, but about half an hour later the warm water had run out, and the itching was worse than ever. It had been three hours since our meeting, and I was already beginning to fall apart.

I did not sleep that night. Next morning I tried to call her on her cell phone, but she just hung up, and sent me a text message saying that our meeting was postponed for a week because of my growling.

Sunday May 18th

By the end of the first two weeks, I had gotten used to the itching, and I was only thinking about sex 98% of the time. I had been to work, and absolutely nobody had any idea about my "designer fashion underwear". I showered a lot, and actually managed to get some relief once with the help of directed sprays of alternating hot and cold water from the shower head, but the result could really not be called an orgasm, it and left me more frustrated than when I started. I had turned very emotional, crying over the loss of my wife as well as in pure frustration over my steel panties, not really knowing what I cried for at any given point in time.

She sent me a text message, informing me to show up at an address about an hour after the message was sent. It turned out to be the house of one of her girlfriends, and I later learned that she had moved in there.

Her friend met me at the door, opened it and walked towards the steps to the basement, signalling that I was to follow. My wife was nowhere to be seen. We entered a washing room without windows. "Strip, and don’t try anything fancy, because I have not fetched the key to the chastity belt yet," she ordered. I undressed completely, neatly folding my clothes to please her. She took the pile of clothes, and ordered me to stand, back against the wall. Only then did I notice the metal cuffs attached to the wall. She locked them on my wrists, stretching my arms up and out. Then she spread my legs far apart, and cuffed them to the wall. I was now standing on my tiptoes, feeling extremely vulnerable and rather stupid. The chill of the basement room made goose bumps form on my skin. She produced an inflatable gag, and I reluctantly opened my mouth allowing her to insert it. She pumped it to the point where I gagged, then let out some air.

"No listen, you pathetic whimp. You will be allowed cleaning sessions whenever you desire. They will all be like the one you are about to experience or worse, no exceptions. You will have to figure out for yourself what that means."

She turned and left the room -- bringing my clothes with her. I don’t know how long she was gone, but by the time she returned, my arms were numb and my legs were starting to cramp. I noticed that she was wearing rubber gloves. Without further ado, she unlocked the chastity belt, cut off the seal after checking its number, put it aside and started rubbing something into my lower body, making sure that I even got some of it up my rear entrance. About 10 seconds later, a fierce burning started, and a further 10 seconds later, I was screaming at the top of my lungs into the horrid gag, pulling with all my strength at the shackles, who did of course not give an inch.

"The worst burning will be over in about an hour. I’ll be back then. Now be a good boy or I ‘ll punish you with some pepper spray in your eyes to subdue you." With that she left the room.

The burning was absolutely horrible, and I could not stand still. Soon the beginning cramps in my legs and my arms got worse and added to my agony and despite the cold room, sweat was running freely from every pore in my body. Soon tears merged with the sweat. Although the rubber in my mouth was horrible, it allowed me to scream at the top of my lungs, and that felt rather good.

It seemed like an eternity before the pain started to subside. Just when I considered it to be down to an acceptable level, my wife appeared in the doorway, looking at me without saying a word. She was dressed in normal indoor clothes, but she had cut her hair and changed her hair colour to black. After watching me for a while she came over, and stroked me slowly to within seconds of an orgasm. Then she turned on the four shower heads in the ceiling. They were all aimed straight at me, and there was no hot water in any of them. My erection fell like a rock in the gravitational field of a black hole.

Breathing became difficult as I was gasping for air, and drool and snot came spurting around the gag and through my nose whenever I exhaled. Again I pulled on the shackles, but got exactly nowhere. After observing me for some minutes, she left without a word.

By the time her friend arrived back again, I was shaking uncontrollably. I vaguely noticed that she was carrying the chastity belt. After turning off the water and rubbing me down with a towel, she generously applied lubricant to my now very limp member, and with some effort put the belt back on me, locking it and sealing it, noting down the number of the seal.

She then unlocked me from the wall. I fell down on the floor. "Do not remove the gag before you leave the house. The gag key is secured with a chain in the hallway. When you return for another cleaning, you must lock the gag on the moment you get into the hallway, and pump the pump six times. You can leave when you feel like it. Your new clothes are on the table."

I did not like her use of the term "new clothes", but it took me a while to collect myself enough to get back on my feet. When I finally did, I found my shirt, pants and jacket, as well as a garter belt and stockings, but no panties. I was in no position to object. The dress code was defined. I would have to get out and buy some new underwear.

They were waiting for me in the hallway. "Whenever you feel like having another cleaning, just call. And remember, the entire session has been filmed, including you, gagged, and putting ladies underwear on over a rather noticeable chastity belt. And we may not have mentioned this, but the lock on the gag is not visible on the video." They both turned and left.

I wasted very little time in deflating the gag and unlocking it. Then I got out into the fresh spring day, almost gulping in the fresh air. Behind me the door closed quietly.

I got a cab home, and immediately headed for the refrigerator where I got out a nice, cold bottle of beer. I headed for the livingroom, and started zapping TV channels without really watching. One thing was very clear; there was no way that I was going back to those crazy ladies for another cleaning.

Monday June 16th

After almost one month of being constantly horny and after making four business trips by train rather than plane, I was at the point where I had no other option but to make the dreaded phone call, mainly because I suspected that the belt had started to produce some odour, despite my own vigorous cleaning. I was granted an audience the same after noon.

The door opened as I approached, but when I entered there were nobody in the hallway. On a table, the horrible, inflatable gag lay together with a heavy rubber hood. I dutifully inserted the gag, and pumped six times. That absolutely filled my mouth and my cheeks were bulging. The rubber hood had a rather large mouth hole that allowed me to pull the pump bladder through it. I got the hood on, and got a nasty surprise: What had looked like normal plastic glass lenses from the outside, turned out to be lenses with a "broken glass" effect, giving me a view of about a thousand tiny hallways, some of them upside down, some sideways. The hood had a stiff posture collar, and a strong zipper that started at the top of the head. The rubber pressed my cheeks in, and forced the gag further back in my mouth, so that I had to fight to suppress the gagging reflex. I closed the collar by sliding a hole over a locking post, and pulled down the zipper. The zipper had a large hole in the handle, and it slid easily over the locking post with a click that promised that I would never get it off without a key.

Someone appeared in my "thousand splinter world", and attached a leash to my collar. I had no possibility of knowing who it was, but the pull of the leash was firm, and left no room for any misunderstandings. Having no useful vision, I blindly stumbled in the direction of the pulling chain.

I was stripped and again placed spread eagled with my back against the wall, just like a month before, and shackles were locked on my arms and ankles. The chastity belt was removed, and the burning cream was rubbed into my body. This time, she even pulled back my foreskin and applied it to the head of my penis. She also applied a generous portion to my nipples and under my arms. Then pure agony hit. I was trashing more widely than before, and the gag was gagging me. She let out some air of the bladder, making it slightly more bearable, but then she attached wires to the rubber hood, and heavy metal music filled my ears at loud volume. Do I need to say that I hate heavy metal music?

Again, I was left until the burning subsided, then stroked to within seconds of the orgasm that I so much longed for. But this time, my member was just left hanging in the air, while I was gently washed with a sponge and lots of soap. The music did however not stop.

I was almost feeling comfortable when the cold showers hit me at high pressure. This time the person used a hand held shower as well, making sure that every inch of my skin was cleaned. When the procedure finally ended, I was shaking uncontrollably. I was left to dry, while the music was cranked up another notch.

When the music was finally turned off, the silence was almost deafening. But nothing happened. At least not for a long while. The room felt somewhat warmer as time went by, and I started drifting in and out of half sleep.

I woke up when the chastity belt was put on. "You should probably give yourself a prostate massage, because your penis is dripping of pre-cum," my wife’s voice informed me. The shackles were opened, and I fell to the floor. "Once you collect yourself, you know the way out. The key to the hood has been added to the keychain in the hallway."

It took me a while to locate my clothes. When I finally did, they felt different, but my distorted vision gave me no clue to what happened. I put on garters, stockings and my trousers before realizing that my shirt now had sharp metal studs covering my nipples. Just breathing, caused them to scrape.

After a couple of attempts, I found my way upstairs and into the hallway. It took me a while to locate the keys, but the air caressing my damp face felt better than the finest champagne once I got the hood off. The gag followed quickly. I blinked, and saw a bag standing in front of the door. A note read: "Here are your new shirts, wear only these. I looked, and they all had two breast pockets each with the nasty spikes on the inside of the shirt, although the colours were nice and quite in line with my normal style. I would look like normal -- but definitely not feel that way.

Getting back to my house, I got the darn shirt off, well too late to prevent my nipples from being sore and red. I stripped naked but for the belt, surfed the net for pictures that would arouse me, watched a few of my favourite videos and headed for the shower where I tried jerking off with the help of the shower spray in combination with a vibrator, but I only managed to make myself hornier without getting any form of release. In the end, I used the vibrator to milk my prostate dry, and that felt nice, but was nowhere near an orgasm. But at least I stopped dripping pre-cum.

I was seriously considering backing out of the entire chastity deal, when the doorbell rang. I grabbed a robe and went downstairs. My work college Jenny was outside, holding some papers in her hands. Darn, I had forgotten I had agreed for her to come over with some stuff I needed for the next mornings meeting.

I let her in, excusing myself that I had been in the shower (which was actually very true as long as I did not elaborate on the subject), had her take a seat in the downstairs livingroom, and went upstairs again to put some normal clothes on.

I served biscuits and coffee while we discussed the meeting, and for the first time noticed how beautiful Jenny was. She was 35 years, hair short and elegant, well exercised body, elegant clothes, slightly higher heels than I would have expected of a woman wearing "functional" clothes and a knitted sweater that really emphasized her full breasts.

She looked straight at me, and I withdrew my eyes. "You know, we have heard about your pending divorce, you know." She used to use the terms "you know" and "sort of" a lot. "It is sort of a strange situation, being alone after 23 years. I was only married for 8 years, and breaking up sort of really hurts, you know".

I muttered some meaningless words, before she said: "Look at me. What colour are my eyes?" I briefly looked her into her eyes, and then turned my eyes down. Her eyes were steel blue. She continued: "That is what I thought. Before, you used just to look away when I spotted you watching me. Now you always look down. She has really subdued you, hasn’t she? How?"

Her words hit me like the cold shower I had been through some hours ago. I started stuttering and muttering, but she interrupted: "Look at me. I am a beautiful woman. I like you a lot. There are endless possibilities here. You will not be alone." Again, my eyes turned downwards. I could smell her perfume, sweet and exotic. I could feel the heat radiating from her body. She lifted my chin and kissed me. Before I could break away, her hands grabbed my butt and she pressed into me, overwhelming me with the warmth, smell and softness of her body. She immediately felt the chastity belt. I expected her to run away screaming, but she just withdrew slightly and said: "Just as I expected. The down turning eyes are a telltale sign. So is the withdrawal. I was in a belt for a total of three years. When he wanted to screw other women while I was locked down, I called it quits. I left, used a hacksaw, and with a little time and patience, I sawed my way out of my very intimate prison. So why haven’t you done the same?"

I told her the full story, but left most of the details of my cleaning visits out. Those details were just too humiliating. She was smiling. "That is the best reason I have ever heard for using a chastity belt. Now stop beating around the bush and show me the hardware!" I undressed, turning my eyes down. She whistled when she saw the stockings and garter. A real wolf-whistle. I felt myself blushing.

She used her hands to feel out the belt pulling and tugging. "It is awesome. I love it! And look at you, eyes down again! How cute. I wore my belt because my ex husband got a kick out of it, but all the time my fantasy was to lock him up, and have him service me in any way imaginable while his frustration rose to unimaginable levels. In your case, I don’t have to buy a belt, I don’t have to sweet-talk you into it and I don’t have to worry about safekeeping of the keys for at least 10 months. It is just perfect!

I was less certain than her, and she sensed my hesitation. "Don’t worry; this is probably just what your wife wanted. She knows you will be near insane with frustration by the end of the year, and she would not object to increasing that frustration. I want to feel your chastity belt against my back tonight. I’ll just pop home for some stuff, and I’ll be back in an hour. OK?

I probably should have objected, but did not.

Later same day

She returned, bringing three large bags, of the size that hockey players used for their gear. She parked her car in my garage, and almost threw the bags into the guestroom, before disappearing in there herself. When she reappeared, she was wearing a floor-length white fox fur coat, open in front, allowing a glimpse of a see-through black baby doll. "I want to sort of humiliate you properly. Put on these garters, shoes and stockings." She gave me a bag. The garters and stockings were ok, I’ve used those before. But the shoes had extreme heels, and lockable ankle straps. I put them on, but had major difficulties just standing. She laughed, and came over to me, wrapping her arms around me, pulling me as close as physically possible. She started kissing my chest, and her hands were roaming all over my back. I responded likewise.

She was like a wild animal, moving, stroking, biting, nibbling, tickling, licking all over my body. She took me to heights I had never been on before, and I became so horny that I was trembling. I used my entire body to satisfy her. She came many times, none of us kept any count, but when she was finally exhausted, it was well past midnight. She gently removed herself from my embrace, and went upstairs without looking back. I got on my feet, but fell over in my shoes. After several attempts, I managed to walk to the stairs, and with great difficulty I got upstairs to the bedroom where she was laying face down on my bed, snoring, fur coat spread around her like a fan. I was so high on hormones, that sleep was nowhere near for me, so I made another 2 hour vain attempt to get some release in the shower, which was extra difficult as I did not want to risk getting the shoes wet.

I must have finally fallen asleep on the bed, because that was where I found myself when the alarm bell rang. She muttered something under the fur coat, but I couldn’t hear her, so I gently pulled the coat down, kissing her shoulders as I exposed them. "You don’t have to go to work today, I postponed your appointment," she said. I kept on kissing her back, slowly dragging the coat down. "You are impossible. Don’t stop," she said.

This time, I had to do all the work, while she was just lying there, enjoying herself. I worked her slowly, stroking, nibbling and licking. Soon she was starting to moan, then pant, then scream. And finally, her entire body went into spasms, her arms and legs wrapping themselves around me with bone crushing strength.

When she came down, she said: "God, I soo love a man in a chastity belt. Was it sort of good for you too?" And then she laughed.

We ate breakfast about an hour later, she was naked, and I was still in heels, stockings and garters, and of course the darn chastity belt. "I love it when you are so helpless, but at the moment you are not helpless enough." She disappeared into the guestroom. Ten minutes later, I was securely strapped into a single glove.

Walking in the killer heels with my hands behind my back proved to be very difficult, but she gave me a lot of assistance, and eventually I started to get the hang of it. Then she put ankle cuffs on me, and I had to relearn walking again. It was slow, exhausting and frustrating, but she kept me like that for the remainder of the day, allowing me only to service her with my tongue, and promising me to remain locked up that way until she had received at least 3 orgasms. Because she was moving around a lot, teasing me, it was well after the nine o clock news before I was eventually released. She even let me take off the shoes, stockings and garters. "You’ve gotten used to them. They are not humiliating enough any more," she explained.

Bedtime, I was locked in a yoke, hands wide out to the side. She put a collar with tiny bells around my neck. "Now I want to sleep tonight. We have meetings tomorrow. If you are not lying perfectly still, those bells will wake me up, and then I will be upset. Good night, sweetie." She turned off the lights and laid down next to me, her fingers absently minded fingering my right nipple.

Wednesday

The meeting went very well, and we secured a huge project for software development. With the signed papers that I had in my briefcase, I had made my quarter’s budget with a comfortable margin, and my boss, the company director, was in a really good mood when we returned.

"Nice job, I knew I could trust you." Last week he had been about to sack me over a slight delay in the contract work. "Since you are due for your three week vacation starting next Monday, why don’t you start early? Take the day and the rest of the week off as a bonus!"

I knew that I had not asked for any time off. My puzzlement must have shown in my eyes, because my boss continued: "I hope it is all right -- I mean, you never asked yourself but your wife was most persuading when she was in my office last week... ".

My wife! Shit, I never told my boss about our divorce. Someone was plotting something here, and I had an unnerving feeling as to who that may be. I muttered some reassuring noises assuring him it was all right, before I threw my papers into the filing cabinet, locked my office and headed for the door. If I was due for some surprises, so was probably also Jenny -- on the receiving end. And three weeks under the care of a true sadist would be bad -- and even worse if jealousy was mixed with whatever other emotions she may still have for me.

I should probably have stopped on my way home to buy a gun or something, but I never took the time -- something I later had ample opportunity to regret on my own behalf as well as Jenny’s.

To be continued

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Page last updated 03-Nov-11 by: Altairboy@aol.com