My Landlady

My landlady, Mabel, likes to visit, so she has always made it a routine to drop in on her renters every two weeks or so to collect the rent. I usually invite her in to have coffee and chat for a while. Mabel is a widow and several years older, but we seemed to hit it off from the beginning and developed a close friendship.

Mabel rang my doorbell as I was opening a package I had just received in the mail. She sat on my couch while I got busy with the coffee.

"What's in the package on the coffee table?" she asked.

"I don't know yet," I said. "A cousin of mine in another state died recently. He left no other relatives, so they sent what was left of his personal effects to me. I was just opening it."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Mabel said. "A death in the family can be distressing."

"We weren't close. In fact, I haven't had any communication with him for several years." I put the box on the floor and started piling its contents on the coffee table. "Let's see what he left."

There were a few paperback books, some fishing and camping equipment, and a miscellaneous mix of other not-too-useful items. Toward the bottom was a purple bag made of some sort of velvet material with gold lettering spelling out "CB-3000."

"I wonder what in the world this is," I said.

"Oh, I know what it is," said Mabel. One of my renters told me she was seriously looking for something like this for her cheating husband. It's a chastity device."

"You mean, like, a chastity belt? I thought those were medieval contraptions to keep women out of trouble while their husbands went off to fight the Crusades, or something."

"No," she answered. "As I understand it, it's not a belt but some kind of device to keep a man from having sexual intercourse. Or even from masturbating, for that matter. And it's definitely for the man to wear. My renter was considering giving her husband an ultimatum. Wear it, or else. Let's look at it."

I undid the drawstring and pulled out a transparent gadget. The only thing I recognized about it was the shape of a limp penis, roughly four inches long.

Mabel knew more about what she was looking at than I did. "See, that ring goes around the cock and balls, the cock goes into the penis - shaped part and then it is locked onto the ring."

"There's an instruction sheet," I said. It showed the device pulled apart. There were five different sized hinged rings - "body cuff," Mabel called them. One was supposedly to find the smallest of these that would still go around the genitals. A plastic pin held the cuff together, adjustable spacers slipped onto that, then the penis part -"the cage," said Mabel - goes on. The pin protrudes enough so that a hole in its end will accommodate a padlock.

"It doesn't look like it's ever been used," Mabel remarked.

"All I know is that my cousin died rather suddenly," I said. "Maybe he never had the chance to use it. Maybe he bought it for someone else. There's no telling now."

"The cuff that's assembled on it now is the smallest of the five," said Mabel.

"It looks way too small for me," I said.

"If one that's too large is used, it won't be secure, according to my renter. I wonder which one would fit you," said Mabel.

"I suppose I could try them and see," I said.

"Let me have another cup of coffee while you do."

I fetched Mabel's coffee and then took the device into the bathroom to try it out. I found out I was right; the smallest cuff ring was too small to fit around the base of my cock and balls. The middle-sized one went around them just fine. I decided to try the next-to-smallest. It went on after a struggle. I learned I had to get my balls into it one at a time and then push my penis down while I closed the cuff. A pin then held it in place.

One thing led to another, and after a few minutes I had the thing assembled on my package with what seemed to be the right spacers. I put the unused parts back in the velvet bag, pulled up my pants and went back to the living room. Mabel was still there.

"Well, I got into the second smallest one," I reported.

"How does it feel. Is it comfortable?" she asked.

"It feels weird, but there's no discomfort."

"Did you lock it on?"

"No, I just put the lock through the hole to hold everything together. I didn't lock it," I replied.

"May I see it?" Mabel asked.

"Well..." I stammered.

"Don't be shy," she said. "I've seen enough variations of the male anatomy. I'll not be shocked. Did I not tell you I used to be a nurse in a urologist's office? Let me see."

So I undid my pants again and showed her what the device looked like being worn. My flaccid penis hung about three quarters of the way down the inside of the cage. My scrotum was trapped between the cage and the cuff ring, but the spacers kept this from being uncomfortable.

"How interesting," said Mabel. "That looks like a very strong plastic," she said. "Feels like it, too," she said as she squeezed it. Then, in the same motion, she snapped the lock closed. The click was not too loud, but ominous.

"What are you doing?" I sputtered.

"I don't think you can get the full effect until it's locked," she said. "I think you should try it out for awhile, walk around in it, find out whether it remains comfortable. I have to go now, but I'll check back with you in a few hours."

As she walked to the door, I began looking for the keys. I remembered tossing them onto the coffee table, but they didn't seem to be there now.

From the doorway, Mabel called, "Bob?" I looked up, to see her dangling the two keys. "It's not a true trial if you have the keys always available. I'll just hang onto these for now, so that you can see what it's really like to stay chaste."

"Mabel!" I cried, feeling my penis trying to expand. "You can't leave me like this!"

"Sure I can. Talk to you later!"

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Page last updated 05-Jun-14 by: Altairboy@aol.com