Three Keys

Submitted by: Laysan

    (This tale was written for Tanager Leigh's upcoming novel: "To Sleep In My Mistress' Bed")

The woman is curled in a fetal position on the floor of a home office halfway underneath a computer desk. Her sandy blonde hair pulled back in a hasty ponytail, she wears a long cotton t-shirt that grips her body tightly and stretches around the curve of her waist and halfway down her thighs. She holds her knees close to her chest with her barefeet tucked tightly against her.

She lays staring blankly towards the room's corner on the far side of the desk. Her hazel eyes, fixed. Her eyelids, fluttering occasionally. Only in the extreme silence of the room would one be able to detect the pitch of a subtle whir rise two or three steps. The woman's body shudders slightly. She opens her mouth for a moment, drawing in a quick breath before settling again to stasis.

Machinery kicks in somewhere in the house. An automated garage door is opening. A car is pulling in. The car's engine stops. It's door slams shut. Meanwhile, the woman remains huddled on the floor. Only after she hears the house door, and the voice of another woman, does she begin to move.

"Cedilla?... Cedilla?"

Cedilla is sitting up by the time footsteps clomp to the top of the stairs.


"I'm here, Caron," she says, barely more than a whisper.

"Oh, my love! Are you ok?" Caron asks as she enters the office and sees Cedilla on the floor. "Quickly! Let's try the key!"

Caron pulls a narrow featureless cylinder mounted on a necklace over her head and kneels to Cedilla.

The cylinder is the key. Unlike most, though, its ability to open a lock is not based on the topography of its surface. The key appears identical to all others that have been manufactured. However, it is unique and uncopyable. It is made of hardened steel composite. It is the molecular inconsistencies that make the key unique. It is the variety and orientation of impurities in the mix that make the key singular. Indeed, just as no two snowflakes are the same, no specimen shall ever be manufactured to replicate this key's signature.

Locks that this key may open must be created specifically for this key. Once the locks are secured they will remain in that state until the single key is waved in the appropriate vicinity of the lock. Loss of or damage to the key will render the lock unopenable.

And so it is with careful concern that Caron covets the key that she wears around her neck. It is the only way she will ever have the ability to access her lover's sex.

Cedilla pulls at her shirt until a sparkling metal brief is revealed. It wraps her loins tightly and firmly, following the curves of her flesh like an artist's paint brush. It allows no access underneath its cold hard surface.

"I'm so sorry, Cedilla. We were foolish not to test the lock before putting the chastity belt on," Caron says. "Given the cost, I was so confident that... I AM confident that the key will work."

Caron lay the key on the faceplate of Cedilla's shiny belt, briefly closing her eyes, perhaps in a silent prayer.

It had been two hours earlier, when Caron had received an urgent phone call from the Love Trust Chastity company. They apologized profusely. Apparently, a week earlier against all company regulations three chastity belt shipments were packed simultaneously. The three keys had fallen to the floor during packing. It seems that the keys were misassigned when returned to the individual packages.

The company representative ensured Caron that the employee who made this error had been sacked.

The company learned of the error when another new customer called in horror complaining that her key did not work and that she was unable to remove her device.

There were two possibilities. It may be that only two of the keys had been switched, and Caron's key may be the correct key. Alternatively, the company assured Caron that if the key she possessed was not the correct key, they would make sure that the keys were reassigned to their proper owners in the safest and most expeditious manner. They emphasized several times that they were continuing to work tirelessly to reach the third customer.

"I will run home during lunch and check that our key works," Caron assured the company representative.

"Um... One question though...," the representative started. "Does your belt wearer have the Tornado device installed?"

"Of course she does," Caron replied. "I didn't think it was possible to lock the belt without the Tornado installed."

"Oh! It's not possible, but sometimes people foolishly tinker... I'm glad that she has the Tornado installed. That will limit any discomfort in the case that it takes us a day or two to find the correct key."

The Tornado is an integral component of the Love Trust Chastity Company's most extreme offering, One Love. The One Love Chastity Belt was manufactured for long term use. It was made for couples that need, for whatever reason, to flirt with permanance. Indeed, loss of the key, would result in a very permanent situation. The wearer would be locked for life. The materials which made up the One Love could only be cut by processes that would maim or even kill the wearer of the belt. Thus, an extremely high tech solution had been developed to maintain the health and comfort of the belt wearer. The solution is called the Tornado.

The Tornado provides two purposes. First, it breaks down biological wastes into energy which is stored in an internal battery. A few soluble side products are also created in this process, but they are easily passed through a drain in the bottom of the belt. The cleansing action of the Tornado helps keep the environment confined within the belt particularly healthy. Indeed, the health of the belt wearer depends on the presence of the Tornado.

Meanwhile, the energy stored by the Tornado is used to tease the belt wearer. It has been found that individuals who engage in long term chastity may become used to their condition after extended periods of time. Their libidos may whither with neglect. Most BDSM couples who enjoy chastity games tend to prefer that libidos remain high so as to enhance the sexual torments provided by the device. The Tornado provides the necessary stimulation to maintain extreme levels of sexual need by randomly fluttering and vibrating. The belt wearer is well aware of their situation, of their plight, of their desire.

After Caron had received the call from the Love Trust Chastity Company, she immediately called Cedilla and explained that she would come home as soon as possible and check to ensure that they had the correct key. Cedilla had acknowledged the situation with monosyllabic and stunted responses.

As Caron lowers the key to rest along the faceplate of the chastity belt, an adjustment in the Tornado causes Cedilla to suck in a short gasp and fidget a bit. The lovers stare silently at the belt waiting and listening for any sign that the key will work. A whir and click issue from Cedilla's crotch and the faceplate snaps away from Cedilla slightly. Both women let out an exhalation. Tears begin to stream freely down Cedilla's face.

"Oh! Thank god! I'm so sorry, love," Caron comforts Cedilla, taking her in her arms, stroking her hair, patting her back. "Quite a scare!"

Cedilla nods her head briefly. "I was... I was so..." Cadilla can not complete her thought before she buries her tearstained face into Caron's shoulder.

"Afraid?" Caron asks. "I know, love. It's ok now." They sit and rock together for a moment in each other's arms.

"Here! Let's take the belt off today," Caron suggests. "Let's play our chastity games another day, ok?"

Cedilla nods her head and straightens her hips and legs to ease the removal of the metal panty. Caron pulls the belt down Cedilla's legs. Cedilla stands and begins to probe within herself for the Tornado which she eventually pulls forth with a shudder and a gasp.

Later, both women eat sandwiches in a subdued silence in the kitchen.

"I need to get back to work," Caron says finally. Cedilla nods.

"I love you, Cedilla," Caron whispers. "More than anything in the world!"

Cedilla smiles and places her hand on Caron's arm and looks down towards the floor. "I love you, too," she whispers.

Ten minutes later, Cedilla has settled herself in front of the TV. Caron is in her car heading back to work, calling the Love Trust Chastity Company on her cell to let them know that they confirmed that they had their key. Everything is fine.

In the early afternoon, Cedilla happens past their bedroom. She sees the belt, the Tornado, and the key laying on the vanity where they had been left to dry after washing and cleaning. She stares at them for a moment before moving down the hall.

Within a half hour, Cedilla is dressed in a camisol, shorts, and walking shoes. She pulls on a sweater, walks out of the house, locking the door behind her and sets off down the street and across the park. Her pace is brisk and her face, flush.

The sun is bright and the sky is brilliant blue. A flock of starlings swirl across the open sky. Ground squirrels and prairie dogs skitter across the fields.

Cedilla takes the bridge over a rushing creek filled with torrents of icy water tumbling down from the mountain snowmelt. She stops as she crosses a rail yard and watches a southbound freight train carrying things from here to somewhere far, far away. Her fisted hands are shoved deep in the pockets of her sweater, which she wraps tightly about herself despite the mild temperatures and full sun.

On into the center of town, she continues, where the shops and streets are beginning to be filled with seasonal tourists. Cedilla stops at a cafe, purchases a latte and sits at a table on the street front watching the ebb and flow of tourists. She slowly sips her drink. The drink is about half empty when a voice catches her ear. A woman passes speaking German (maybe Dutch) with her companion.

Cedilla pulls money from her sweater pocket as a tip, then rises up and follows the pair from some distance. When the German woman and her friend enter an art gallery, Cedilla strolls slowly past, crosses the street and pretends to look at the display in a shop window.

Cars and people pass. Birds whistle. A distant dog barks. Eventually, Cedilla sees the women exit the gallery in the half reflection of the shop window and she resumes trailing them. They turn up Market street where the footcrowd grows thicker. The women stop outside a used bookstore flipping through a table of dusty texts.

Cedilla sucks in a deep breath and approaches them. German, not Dutch. Definitely, German. The German woman is leaning over the table flipping through a large coffee-table book with colorful photos of local Southwest American deserts, rugged and barren. Cedilla pulls a fisted hand from her sweater pocket. Within her tight grip is a narrow featureless cylinder. It's Caron's key. The key to her chastity belt. As she passes, she slips the cylindrical key into a small opening of the large purse strapped over the German woman's shoulder.

Cedilla turns down the first alley she comes to and continues walking - never turning back. Tears form in her eyes and begin to slide down her face. A block later, she begins to run and she doesn't stop for a long time. Out of the center of town, she runs, across the railroad tracks, over the raging stream and into a field near her own house.

She collapses in the grass and cries. Her sobs and a cool, whispering breeze drown the soft sound of the changing speed of the Tornado permanently locked deep within her behind the impenetrable shield of her One Love Chastity Belt.

The End

Note from Tanager Leigh: Laysan suggests to watch the following youtube video entitled "Safe Inside" after reading this story.

Neither I nor Laysan are the artist of the video. Nor do we know the artist. Laysan simply suggests that it feels the same as her mood when she wrote the story.

-ilovelaysan Tanager Leigh

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