My first full day in the chastity belt was a strange one.
A mix of warm comfort at having such a strong sign of his control and almost mind numbing frustration, being highly aroused and fighting the urge to touch without permission had become familiar and brought with it an odd sense of accomplishment when achieved properly…being highly aroused and unable to touch was far more frustrating and more mentally difficult than I had imagined.
It was no longer an accomplishment, no longer a testament to my will power and resolve to obey.
Now it was enforced, locked as a symbol that the constant arousal had begun to cloud my mind, my mental resolve and my faculties slipping ever so slightly as the lust had begun to take over and I had been humping against his legs in my sleep, or occasionally rocking my hips ever so slightly when sitting or kneeling…no longer even conscious of the lewd acts until he pointed them out to me.
The belt is a firm, shining message that when it comes to denial my resolve to obey alone cannot be trusted to enforce the no touch rule.
And yet it’s also a symbol of his control and ownership, a sign that I am his, safe and secure in his leadership and under his command which was deeply comforting to me.
For most of the day my mind fluctuated between sweet comfort and mixed feelings on no longer truly having a choice in not being able to touch…
Until Mister returned home from work.
I greeted him at the door, kneeling with my body lowered, forehead resting on the floor, arms outstretched and palms up wearing only my belt, collar and tail.
As soon as the door was closed he crouched down to kiss the top of my head and ruffle my hair, calling me a good girl and telling me to relax.
I knelt in front of him as I untied and removed his shoes, then stood to take his jacket and tie, easy conversation flowing between us as we caught up on each others day, the mundane, vanilla and silly moments and jokes mixing with the D/s routines of our day to day life together.
I crawled behind him to the loungeroom, still in easy and casual conversation, until he geatured for me to “stay” as he wandered off to bring one of the dining chairs in, setting it in front of the TV.
He ordered me to sit on the dining chair, knees on either side, ass towards the front of the chair. It felt more embarrassing than being naked for some reason, presenting to him with impenetrable metal, desperately hoping he would remove it and play with the aching, throbbing hole it was shielding.
He crouched in front of me, drumming his fingernails on the metal with one hand, smirking at the way it made me blush and squirm before getting up and going about his evening with a simple command of:
After a little while he came back into the room, shirt now undone but not quite completely changed, a beer in his hand and eyes on his phone as he typed away a message, only acknowledging me when he reached the chair.
Putting his phone away he bent next to me, tucking my hair behind my ear and stroking along my neck and down my torso with the other.
“You still owe me your daily edges, pup”
I squirmed a little in my seat, my eyes flicking between the belt and Mister a few times, already excited at the prospect of it being removed and being permitted to touch, even if it were only going to make the arousal worse.
My excitement was only met with laughter as he stood once more and ruffled my hair as he went over to the laptop.
“You’re so cute, pup. Thinking it’s going to be that easy. No, no.”
Plugging the laptop to the TV with a HDMI cable and navigating to a folder of home made movies and recordings.
“No. See, first your orgasms became a reward, you used to have them at least for or five times a day, do you remember? That must seem so long ago to you now…
Then you were only allowed orgasms as a reward and all your other orgasms were ruined, until ruined orgasms became normal orgasms for you, as close as you ever expected to get, so much so you began begging me to ruin them…
And so I had to take your ruins from you, they became your new reward, haven’t they, pup? You know you’re not getting a proper orgasm like real girls any more so you beg to be ruined…
Now I think you’re finally ready for the next phase.
Now you’re ready to learn to beg for a proper edge instead of a ruin.”
And with that he opened a video file he had recorded about six months ago, of me sitting in the same chair, and the same position with one glaringly obvious difference – the video version of me didn’t have the belt between her legs.
I knew which video it was immediately, it was the first time he had not only watched but recorded me masturbating and edging for him, he had made me describe how I felt in every moment, in as much detail as possible.
As the video played, he came and stood behind me, teasing my nipples as he bent down to my ear
“Mimic your movements for me pup. Pretend you can still feel something other than metal on that dripping hole of yours – listen to exactly what you’re missing out on in your own words…let it all sink in, and when you’re so frustrated you’re ready to cry, then ask yourself if I’m right, if edging will eventually become your new orgasm”
And with that he twisted my nipples sharply before settling himself into the couch to enjoy the show.
I’m starting to think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, so to speak…