Forfeits

“So you did sir, but, do you know, this looks to me like a smuggling device.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be so bloody naive! Besides, would anyone be stupid enough to try and smuggle contraband in a metal container?”

“You might well ask but, equally, would anyone be stupid enough to try and get through an airport security system undetected with a metal chastity tube?”

She had me and she knew it.

“Cheer up. I think it’s very sweet. Who’s got the key?”

“My wife.”

I was not about to increase my embarrassment by confessing that the key was being held by my friends.

“That is so sexy.”

As she said it she lifted the tube and felt its weight.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not after a while.”

“And can you…you know…get an erection.”

“No. I can’t.”

As she said it she ran her thumb idly over the exposed head.

“Please don’t do that.”

“What? This?”

She rubbed a little more purposefully and I felt an initial surge as my blood started to course. When all was said and done she was an attractive young woman and I was a red blooded male.

“Look enough’s enough. You’ve seen what you had to see. Can I get my flight now?”

She seemed to ponder this but she carried on stroking me the whole while.

“You know what. I find this a real turn on. That a man, in this day and age, would be prepared to wear a chastity device. Were you a naughty boy?”

“No I bloody wasn’t.”

“So it’s symbolic?”

“I suppose you could say.”

She did not stop rubbing me, and I could feel the onset of the cramps, but now she was reaching under her skirt with her other hand.

“Look, this has gone far enough.”

“It’s up to you. By rights, as I can’t examine it in detail, I should call my section leader, who is a woman by the way. She, in turn, might have to call the duty doctor, another female, and I think I would be duty bound to tell your friend why you will have to miss the flight.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Try me.”

“What do you want?”

She smiled as she pulled down her panties and stepped out of them.

“I want you.”

“I don’t follow,”

“If you do as I want you’ll catch your flight. I’ll even arrange for a clearance on the return flight on “medical grounds””

She left me with little choice but I still did not get her drift. Then she made it perfectly clear.

“Lie down on the floor.”

So many thoughts went through my mind in those next few seconds. Most of them centred on the undesired prospect of cheating on my wife but in a bizarre sense these thoughts were counterbalanced by the argument that I was wearing a chastity tube and, was therefore, incapable of cheating.

I laid down, after all, what choice did I have?, and shortly thereafter I discovered that cheating was measured in degrees of intimacy. The blonde came and stood with her feet either side of my head and I could discern her pubis, covered with a frizz of light hair, within the confines of her heavy dark skirt. I felt ridiculous lying there in my shirt and tie with my trousers and pants bunched around my ankles and, only as she began to lower herself, did the thought cross my mind that the door had not been locked. She hitched her skirt as she settled on my face and then she let it drop plunging me into darkness.

She had not lied about being turned on. She literally squelched as she came to rest on my mouth but I was more shocked when I felt her warm lips closing around the tube. She sucked hard and began to move her head up and down as though the tube was not there and my body made its inevitable response. Within seconds I groaned as I gained a partial erection, only to have it cruelly pinched back, but the blonde took it as a sign of success. She gave an urgent wiggle of her hips and rubbed her sex across my face in an unspoken demand.

Even now I had no wish to be unfaithful. I had been happily married for seven years and I guess, like every other man, I fantasized about sex with other women, even real women of my acquaintance, but I never entertained the prospect of actually taking it any further. I closed my mouth and hoped that she would be content with the mild torture that she was inflicting on me but it was not to be. She opened her knees, coming down even more heavily on my face and, at the same time, she moved slightly backwards. Suddenly I found myself with my nose buried in her sex and deprived of all air. I opened my mouth reflexively and she immediately slid forward again using her weight to keep my lips apart.

The temptation to bite her and teach her a lesson was strong but I could not risk the humiliation of Sheila finding out what the problem had been. I could take the embarrassment within my circle of friends but I would never live it down if it became known within the tight knit professional community that I was a part of.

Very slowly I put out my tongue and eased it inside her and she immediately wriggled down to draw it further in. At the same time she swirled her own tongue around the head of my penis with a frightening display of expertise and I felt myself continuing to swell. I thought that my body might have learned but I was sadly wrong; some human instincts just cannot be overcome. Her lips were still closed around the tube and the pain gave the illusion that they were acting like a vice, taunting me to an erection only to crush me back with an unyielding strength.

I winced, and felt a tear at the corner of my eye, but a new pressure was craving my indulgence. My tongue was being squeezed in a clear signal that I was not being active enough and so I started to thrust it at her as best I could but in the near total darkness beneath her skirt it was almost as though I had lost direction. I had never been in this position before with Claire. Sometimes, when I went down on her, things could become quite frantic but I always felt in control. Now, in the close confines, taste and smell seemed stronger, almost malevolent, and it was as though her sex had grown in size. I realized that claustrophobia was causing my mind to play tricks and I tried to breathe regularly through my nose and focus on the rhythm.

She shifted again, allowing me to get to work on her clitoris and, as I used the tip of my tongue, she began to mimic me. She licked at the very end of my penis and it seemed as if she was trying to ease her tongue into the opening. The sensation was odd, slightly arousing but, on balance, discomforting, and, as if sensing my unease, she tried even harder. I was not sure what was worse, a frustrated erection or the maddening motions of her tongue but, one thing was for sure, I had to bring her off as quickly as possible.

I renewed my attack, flattening my tongue and licking hard, making sure that each broad sweep along her sex took in her clitoris. I was getting hotter by the second and perspiration, hers or mine, I did not know, began to sting my eyes but her movements were getting more frenzied and I stuck stubbornly to my task. Finally, she relinquished her grip on my manhood and knelt up over me to concentrate purely on her own pleasure. Within a few seconds she gave an almost masculine growl as the walls of the dam burst and she started to climax. She tried to keep herself still, to savour the sensations, but her body twitched as she was overcome by the powerful contractions. She rested painfully on my face for a moment or two and then, as she rose unsteadily to her feet, the room’s chill air immediately cooled the moisture on my face.

I sat up as she moved across to a small sink in the corner of the room where she ran some water and washed her face in a perfunctory manner. When she was finished she took up a small hand towel from its rail and dabbed her face but then she put it under her skirt and began to clean herself off. When she was satisfied she threw the towel in my direction and I was so startled that I let it hit me in the face.

“You might want to freshen up.”

I kept my anger in check as I pulled up my trousers and approached the sink. I slooshed water onto my face from the running tap and then tried to find a dry patch of towel. It may have once been white but it was now a dingy gray and smelt of stale biscuits and sex. I threw it aside in disgust and did as best as I could with my handkerchief. As I did so I looked up at the clock and assumed that I had missed the flight which, in some respects, was just as well, as the bedraggled image that looked back at me from the rust edged mirror did not make a pretty sight. My hair was unkempt and my shirt and tie were ruined. It did not matter too much as long as Sheila made it but she was going to be very angry.

“You’ll have to hurry.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Did I forget to tell you? Your flight was delayed for half an hour. If you run you’ll just make it.”

She laughed as I left the room seething with anger. I ran with my jacket in one hand and my bag in the other. As I rushed panting on to the plane it was clear that I was the last to board and the angry looks from my fellow passengers added to the embarrassment of my disheveled appearance. I slumped down next to Sheila and the plane wasted no time in taxiing away

“Where the hell have you been?”

“I’m sorry. It was a pen.”

“What?”

“A pen. It went through a hole in my pocket and got into the lining of my jacket.”

Sheila looked extremely dubious and I squirmed as she cast her eyes down to my damp shirt. When we arrived in Edinburgh I had the taxi stop at the first men’s outfitters that I saw and I bought, and changed into, a new shirt and tie; the shirt was creased but anything was better than the rank rag I was already wearing. By the time that we arrived at our client’s offices Sheila’s patience had worn thin but the rest of the day went to plan. We had our discussions, had a pleasant lunch, and, much to my surprise, I found that the bitch at the airport had been as good as her word. For the return flight I was spared the embarrassment of the metal detector although it was clear from the smirk on the face of the male officer who patted me down that word had got out. ‘As we boarded Sheila asked for an explanation but I cut her short and told her that I refused to discuss it.

I finally got home in the early evening, still in a foul mood, but as I came in the front door it was to be greeted by a wonderful smell. I had eaten enough at lunchtime but I found a fresh appetite when I appreciated that Claire had cooked my favourite meal. I walked into the dining room where the table was set for two including two chilled glasses of Vinho Verdi. Claire’s disembodied voice came through from the kitchen.

“Take a seat. It’s ready.”

I sat down and she entered with a plate in either hand. I immediately did a double take. She had obviously splashed out on a new dress and it was stunning. It was black, shoulderless and cut high on the leg. It gave the impression that she had been cocooned in a ribbon of black silk and I had an immediate urge to run my hands over it.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.”

I bit back my next instinctive question, which was to ask how much it had cost, and focused on the plate that she put down in front of me. It bore a swordfish steak perfectly steamed with a slice of lime and, to accompany it, a simple salad with colcannon mash and an onion marmalade. I knew that a lot of time had gone into the preparation of the meal but it was worth it. For the next half an hour I was in gastric heaven and it was only as I finally put down my knife and fork on an empty plate that I posed the question that I wanted to ask.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“It’s just my show of appreciation…for last night…and this morning.”

She looked so sexy as she said it that I could have ravished her right there on the table but a jolt from my groin reminded me of the one thing that I had, for a short blissful period, forgotten. I bit my lip as I tried to keep the pain in check but my discomfort was tempered by the knowledge that the damned thing would not be on for very much longer.

We sat and chatted until the bottle of wine was empty and then Claire went back to the kitchen and returned with dessert. Once again it was my favourite. A dark mousse made with outrageously expensive bitter Mexican chocolate and flavoured with a touch of mandarin brandy. I ate mine with almost boyish greed and then noticed that Claire had hardly touched hers. After a decent interval I asked.

“Aren’t you eating yours?”

“Why, would you like some more?”

As she said it she smiled, dipped a finger into her bowl, and brought her chocolate tipped nail to her lips. She looked me in the eye as she licked it clean and the message was not lost on my manhood which lurched painfully inside its steel prison. I could wait no longer but, as I pushed my chair back, she dipped her finger a second time and offered it up to my mouth. I held her stare as I licked the delicious confection from her finger and when it was gone she dipped it again. This time she hooked it slightly so that it came free bearing a generous dollop but, as I leant across to lick it up, she moved it away from me.

For a second or two I felt childishly peeved but then I was shocked to see her put her hand under the table. When she revealed it again her finger was almost clean and my heart rate increased. Even as I tried to come to terms with what she was doing she scooped up another generous finger load which disappeared in similar fashion. I was dumbfounded but Claire looked unfazed as she put her elbows on the table, laced her fingers, and rested her chin on the back of them.

“It’s all yours…come and get it…”

In all the years of our marriage we had never explored anything quite like this, the closest we had come was me sipping champagne from Claire’s navel, and now I had very mixed feelings. It was a uneasy blend of lust, greed and misgiving and Claire continued to stare at me as I ran the whole gamut of emotions. There was something about her look that finally drew me in and it was only afterwards that I realized that she had been daring me.

I made to rise but Claire stayed still and spoke huskily.

“Under the table…”

Had I thought it through I would have seen just how demeaning her request was but, not for the first time, I was a slave to her charms. I dropped to my knees and, lifting the heavy damask cloth, I crawled underneath. In the half light I could see that, unbeknownst to me, she had, at some point hitched up her dress and, if she had been wearing underwear earlier, she was not wearing it now. She had her legs spread wide and, as my eyes adjusted, I could see that her pubis was coated with chocolate.

Somewhere, far at the back of my mind, there was a twinge of revulsion but that same sense of the forbidden was serving to stoke the fires under my primal instincts. I went forward on my knees and then fell upon her like some ravening beast. I heard her laugh as I licked at her nest of curls but then she shifted herself very slightly so that I found myself lapping at her labia. It was then that I realized that she had worked some of the dessert inside herself. Almost without thinking I darted my tongue at her but the taste was altogether different. It was no longer a rich goo but, instead, a warm brown runnel in which the taste of chocolate was overpowered by her own essence. I was not sure whether I liked it or not but I thrust my tongue deep inside her for a second taste and, as I did so, she said something which I misheard. It sounded like “Good dog” and I replayed it in my mind to try and make more sense of it.

I decided that, on balance, now that the first flush of madness had passed, I was no longer enjoying it and I tried to retreat but Claire, sensing my intentions, brought her hand under the table and put it to the back of my head. She pulled me back into the sticky swamp and when she spoke I had a flashback to childhood.

“You haven’t finished yet.”

It could have been my mother’s voice at the dining table and I found myself licking again without thought. Claire gave a fresh peal of laughter and then her body began to jerk in that familiar way. As she came her body exuded more chocolate syrup which I caught up on my tongue and swallowed and the feeling was not unlike the warmth of praise that came from presenting a clean plate.

When I finally crawled out from beneath the table I felt faintly ridiculous. I was perspiring and I had to wipe chocolate residue from my mouth with the back of my hand. Claire, by contrast, looked completely composed. From the waist up her dress had remained unruffled and anyone coming into the room and seeing her at that moment would have no idea what had just transpired. For my part I found her seemingly cool demeanour arousing and my hand involuntarily dropped to my crotch as I felt the steel starting to bite.

“Claire, have you got the saw?”

Her eyes widened and then slowly closed.

“I’m so sorry…”

“What do you mean “you’re sorry”?”

“I completely forgot. I wanted to make this evening so special for you and what with the dress and the food and everything…”

“Claire!”

I could not help but shout but when she looked back up at me her eyes were teary and I felt like a bastard. She had obviously put herself out and now I seemed unappreciative. I moved to her and put my arms around her but I must admit that, at the same time, I took a look at my watch to check the time. There was a hypermarket not too far away that stayed open very late and I felt a momentary relief but then it occurred to me that I had drunk far too much to allow myself to drive.

The frustration I felt was almost overwhelming but, as I continued to comfort Claire, I succumbed to a sense of resignation. When all was said and done it was just a matter of a few more hours. With that in mind I suggested an early night. I loaded the dishwasher and we went upstairs but it seemed odd to be going to bed so early without the obvious motive. As it was Claire’s pleasure had obviously taken its toll because she fell asleep, with her head on my chest, within minutes.

The strain of the day finally caught up with me and I joined her in a deep sleep which remained undisturbed until morning. I had a series of odd dreams the last of which centred on the blonde from the airport. I had failed to satisfy her with my mouth and she was fiercely angry. I tried to pacify her but, whilst I was in the same room, with it’s worn out institutional furniture, there was something different. I could not get up from the floor and when I lifted my chin it was to find that my arms and legs were spread and fixed with four large metal staples which pinned my wrists and shins. I grew frantic and tugged at them but they were driven deep into the floor itself and they could not be moved. The blonde stood over me mocking my efforts and then she took up station between my legs. She was wearing a pair of heavy Oxford shoes with highly polished steel toecaps and, even as I begged, she lifted her foot. I began to scream before the well aimed kick was delivered but it became a blood curdling wail as she drove the toecap into my balls with all the strength she could muster.

I woke up instantly but I could not shake off the pain and it took a few seconds to realize that I had woken with a frustrated erection. Claire was still asleep at my side but her hand had unconsciously found its way down between my legs. I rolled out of the bed, waking Claire in the process, and rushed to the toilet. My need to urinate was desperate but for some seconds my body refused to cooperate. When I finally managed to relax my bladder it came with a painful rush and, by the time I had finished, I was sweating heavily.

I stepped straight into the shower and was finally able to relax under the cascade of warm water. After a few moments I soaped my hair and it was as I was rinsing it that I became aware of Claire’s presence. She had slipped into the shower and she began to nuzzle herself into my back sharing the benefits of the stinging spray. I turned to face her and she immediately kissed me before leaning back against the side of the stall.