Forfeits

I knew that I was insane to put up with treatment she was meting out but getting possession of the tape was all that mattered. I lay there and took it as she started to jerk her hips and then finally, thankfully, she started to come. If anything, she pushed down even harder as her climax took hold and I could feel her sex pulsating against my face as she gave herself up to it. She rode out the lingering tremors and then she relaxed a little and was still. My head was throbbing and my face felt as if I had been staring into a furnace but I was thankful that it was over. When Petra eventually broke the silence I had to strain to hear her.

“Was that as good as it looked?”

“Bloody amazing. I could go again.”

“Don’t be greedy, and besides, I want to taste you.”

Before I realized what was happening they slid around one another and I found myself staring up between Petra’s legs. It had been bad enough with Diane, at least her pale, flawless, skin had given the impression of softness but Petra was a different proposition. She taught Latin dance in her spare time and her thighs and buttocks were tightly muscled; this, along with her dusky skin colouring and the black promise of her sex created a frightening impression from where I still lay.

I braced my hands on the floor and prepared to shuffle free but Diane had other ideas.

“Stay right there …”

“That wasn’t the deal!”

“It’s up to you. One more time for Petra and the tape’s yours. Otherwise you can leave now…empty handed.”

My anger almost overcame me but I clawed my fingers at the carpet and fought down the rage. Just once more, that is what she said, and, after all I had already been through, it would have been stupid to walk away. It was no longer the physical pain that I resented it was the fact that they knew I would surrender. I was no longer a person to them, no longer a friend, I was simply a physical adjunct to their own carnal desires and the more they could debase me the greater their pleasure. There was no way things were ever going to be the same again and I knew, at that moment, that once this was over I was going to find a way to bring them down.

With that thought I relaxed my body and waited and Petra wasted no time.

“MMMMmmmm … you’re so wet.”

She leant forward and, at the same time, she lowered herself onto my head. As I feared, there was no subtlety, she worked herself roughly over my whole face from my chin to my forehead and a deep sigh from Diane was enough to tell me that Petra had put her mouth to work. Fortunately, it did not take either of them long to come back to the boil but, by the finish, Petra was almost bouncing on my face and squelching moisture every time she did so. They came almost together and neither of them was shy about screaming their pleasure but the worst of it was having Petra remain on my face for some time afterwards as she sought to compose herself.

“What do you think?”

“I think you taste wonderful.”

“Not that, silly, you know what I mean.”

“Its great, but next time we’ve got to tie him down. I don’t know about you but I could ride his face for hours…”

Forfeits - Chapter 5

She gave me the tape and, as I left, I could hear their mocking laughter behind me. The drive back was a nightmare, every slight undulation in the road served to remind me of just how much damage Diane had inflicted on my backside. Once home I drew myself a deep bath and sank into it to try and cleanse myself both physically and mentally whilst I wrestled with my dilemma. I wanted nothing more to do with Diane and Petra, on the contrary I was already thinking up ways to avenge myself, but how would I explain it to Claire?

I suppose that was a “road to Damascus” moment. It was certainly the first time that I seriously considered the thought that my marriage might be over. I had seen a new side to Claire in the past few days and I was not sure that I liked what I saw. Then there was the question of children. That afternoons events had reinforced the notion that in some ways my group of friends had never really grown up, that they evading life’s true responsibilities. Perhaps my desire to start a family was a sign that I had reached a different level of maturity. Over the next half hour the prospect of a completely clean break grew increasingly more attractive and the, often discussed, idea of the partnership starting up an office in France suddenly developed new impetus in my mind.

When I went back downstairs I found an answer phone message from Claire. She said that she was sorry to hear about my accident and that she would be home late as she had been asked to entertain clients at the last minute. In the event I was in bed by the time she eventually got home and I pretended to be asleep whilst she undressed and showered. When she slid under the duvet she spooned herself into my back and I felt her cool fingers running gently over my buttocks.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

I grunted a sleepy affirmative.

“Well I guess you aren’t going to be any good to me tonight. Never mind, you can make up for it in the morning.”

I suppose it was that simple remark more than anything. Even knowing I was in pain she was still thinking of herself. The following morning I rose early and got ready for the office as quickly and quietly as possible. Claire was still asleep as I left the house and I bought breakfast on the way in. It took me an hour to read through the e-mails from the day before and then I locked the office door.

Not wishing to use the office computer system I jacked my laptop into the telephone socket and logged onto the internet. I started to search for any sites relating to male chastity devices and found a couple of manufacturers. A quick tour of their web pages told me that I was not encased in one of their products and so I cast the net more widely. There were story sites and some discussion groups from which I was surprised to find that there were a number of men who voluntarily sealed themselves away and entrusted the key to their partner or more particularly, in most cases, to their Mistresses.

None of this was helping. After another fruitless half hour of trawling through the nether word of tattooists and piercings I started on locksmiths. As I feared, the majority of them were commercial enterprises charging a small fortune to help people who had locked themselves out of houses and cars. Finally, I came across Saxon & Son. Their web site was more restrained, almost quaint, and they held themselves out as antique lock repairers who could undertake intricate metalwork. However I looked at it I faced embarrassment but Saxon’s were about seventy miles away which would be a nuisance to drive but made it unlikely that I would ever run into them again. I had no doubt that the story would do the rounds of the local pubs, provoking great hilarity, but I would be long gone.

I waited until nine a.m. and phoned them. A bluff sounding man assured me that the shop was open and that they could do a “while you wait” service but if I just wanted keys cut I would be better off elsewhere. I thanked him and then, having left a brief message for my secretary, I went to collect my car.

The traffic was light heading out of town and ninety minutes later I was walking the back streets seeking out the small shop frontage that I had seen illustrated on the web. When I found it it looked almost Dickensian with its Georgian windows displaying antique locks in various states of repair. As I walked in a bell over the door jingled to announce my presence.

After a moment a women appeared from a back room and took up station behind the counter. This was completely unexpected and for a second or two I was at a loss.

“Ah…good morning…I rang a little earlier and spoke to a gentleman…”

“Yes, my husband, he said there had been a call.”

She smiled at me patiently. She looked to be in her early forties, and must have been very attractive in her prime, but even now when she smiled there was something sexy about her.

“Would it be possible to see him?”

“Why, do you want a horse shoed?”

“I’m sorry?”

It was her turn to look a little bemused but when she next spoke her tone was almost conspiratorial.

“Would it be a special commission?”

“I’m here about a lock.”

She started to laugh and it was a pleasant whole-hearted sound.

“Sorry about the confusion. My husband is a traveling blacksmith, he uses the shop as his business address too. We sometimes get people in asking for specialist ironwork , a little bit kinky if you know what I mean.”

I felt my face flush and she rushed to apologize but she was not to know just what a raw nerve she had touched.

“Sorry, that was inappropriate, let’s start again. I’m Rhona Saxon. What can I do for you?”

At that instant my heart sank. I had braced myself for a degree of embarrassment but I had never contemplated the possibility that the locksmith would turn out to be a woman. My frustration was almost palpable but I found myself speaking before I could stop myself.

“It’s a little sensitive. We were out on a stag night last night. We all had a few to drink and, for a joke, we locked the groom into a chastity tube. The trouble is we were all so pissed that we seem to have mislaid the keys.”

She looked at me dubiously.

“And you want me to take a look at it?”

“No, no, of course not. I wasn’t expecting a female proprietor I was wondering, perhaps, if there was someone you could recommend?”

She looked at me for a second or two and then she started to laugh once again.

“It’s you isn’t it? You’re the groom.”

There seemed little point in trying to maintain the deception.

“Yes, you’re right, it is me. Do you know someone who can help?”

“I’ll tell you what. If you can overcome your embarrassment I certainly can.”

She looked genuinely sorry for me and the need to have the tube removed was now almost greater than I could bear.

“Thanks, that would be really kind.”

She came from behind the counter and put the closed sign up in the door. She was carrying a few surplus pounds but she still had a good figure and she held herself with the confidence of a woman who knew that she still had it in her.

“There’s a race meeting today so Harry won’t be back until this evening. I’m not quite sure what he would make of it.”

She made the remark with mock seriousness and led me into the back room which turned out to be workshop. It had a glass roof which flooded the room with natural light making it seem more like an artist’s studio which, in some ways, it was. There were pieces of metalwork all over the place but there was an ordered tidiness to it all.

“You had better take your clothes off. There’s an overall behind the door if it would make you feel less uncomfortable.”

She turned her back on me and busied herself at the bench whilst I undressed. There seemed little point bothering with the overall and, to her credit, she was a model of brisk efficiency.

“It would be best if you sat up on the bench with your legs open.”

I did as she asked and she pulled up a chair between my legs.

“Good God.”

She took hold of the tube and moved it around gently as she conducted an examination. She then checked the padlock and seemed satisfied. Unfortunately, at that moment I chose to look down only to find that she was displaying a very ample cleavage. I fought down my body’s involuntary reaction but she felt it twitch in her hand.

“Don’t worry, I find it flattering.”

I looked up at the ceiling and tried counting slowly to ten.

“If you don’t mind I’d like to test a couple of things.”

I wanted to tell her just to get on with it but I forced myself to be polite.

“That’s fine. Go ahead.”

She swung over a large magnifying glass and positioned it over my groin and then she picked up a small piece of metal and touched it to the tube.

“It’s non magnetic.”

She then took up a volt meter and touched the two terminals to the tube and took a reading.

“Interesting …”

“Look, is this really necessary?”

“Just a couple more things.”

She attached another instrument which had no obvious purpose and then finally she dropped a single drop of liquid from a pipette onto the tube. It bubbled away to vapour and I could see that her expression was thoughtful.

“I’d just like to try something. Unfortunately it is likely to have an effect but it won’t be for long.”

She picked up something that looked not unlike a dentists drill and, when she switched it on, that’s exactly what it sounded like. Taking careful hold of my manhood in one hand she applied the drill to the tube. Within seconds I found myself trying to rear to erection. The whole tube was vibrating almost imperceptibly and I could not fight the sensation. Seconds later I winced with pain.

“I’m sorry…just a few more seconds…”

Thankfully she switched off the drill and then she undertook another detailed examination with the aid of the magnifying glass. She even inserted a fibre optic cable into the tube so that she could view the interior.

“Well there is good news and bad news…the good news is this.”

She picked up from the bench a tiny pick which she pushed into the padlock. She wiggled it slightly and a couple of seconds later there was a sharp snick and the padlock sprang open. I wanted to ask her why the hell she had not just done that in the first place but before I could speak she continued.

“The bad news is that you lied to me. You’ve had this on for more than a few hours. I’m guessing it was your wife or girlfriend.”

I was not going to argue with her. I reached down to release the tube’s bands so that I could finally get it off. After a few seconds I realized it was not going to be as easy as I thought. I tugged hard but the bands would not shift.

“Can you give me a hand with this?”

“I don’t think that I can.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Didn’t you ask yourself why it’s so light? If it was made of steel the weight would give you permanent pain, if it was made of aluminium you could probably cut it off for yourself. You see, most of the weight is in the padlock.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that this is made of something I have no experience of.”

Now I was angry.

“I thought you were the expert!”

“As it happens I am a qualified metallurgist. This wasn’t bought from a shop. Whoever cast this knows about metals.”

I felt a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Can’t you just force it off?”

“I’m afraid not, Who ever designed this had a sick sense of humour. You see along these bands? Those are tiny barbs at the edges. Whenever you try to come to erection you exert a pressure on them, they can move in one direction, but not the other.”

“So?”

“So every time you try to get erect you are sealing yourself more tightly into the tube.”

I felt the onset of panic.

“Can’t you just cut it off?”

“I just don’t know enough about it. It’s highly resistant and has a remarkably low coefficient of friction. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“Well what the hell can I do?”

“You’ll have to find the manufacturer or someone more expert than me. What I could do is to fashion an inner sleeve. At least that way it won’t seal it any tighter for the time being.”

“How long would it take?”

“Not long but I would need a measurement. You’ll have to be partially erect for that … and then there is the price.”

“How much?”

“Let’s just call it a quid pro quo.”

I had a bad premonition.

“What do you mean?”

“If I have to bring you to erection then you should do something for me. I can see that you’ve been wearing it for a few days and so I’m guessing that your partner must be demanding some other form of satisfaction. I would imagine that you have become quite proficient.”

“Whatever you are thinking, forget it.”

“As you like. Half an hour of my time comes to fifty. I’ll take a credit card.”

“Look, I’ll give you two hundred if you’ll make the sleeve.”

“I’ve told you the price. Take it or leave it.”

The truth was that the revelation about the tube had pointed to a more sinister form of cruelty than I had previously imagined and it had frightened me. I could not afford to take the chance that the tube was going to seal itself ever more permanently closed.

“Alright, I’ll do it, take your measurements.”

“Payment in advance. Let’s swap places”

I got down from the bench and looked on as she slowly unfastened her skirt and stepped out of it. Her legs could best be described as stout and this was an impression that was reinforced by the sensible white cotton pants she was wearing which, I noticed, had ready begun to dampen. I wanted nothing more than to turn and run but I had to go through with it. Some things were beginning to fall into place and I had to ensure that the tube was safe before I sought out my next confrontation.

For an instant Rhona looked hesitant but then her expression made it clear that she was not going to pass up this chance of a lifetime. She slipped her pants down her legs and I immediately saw that she was not a natural blonde. Her pubis was dressed with a thatch of vivid red hair which stood out starkly against her pale flesh. She shimmied onto the bench and moved herself forward taking her weight on her arms which were stretched behind her. I found myself looking down at her sex through the magnifying lens and, for a few seconds, I could not drag my eyes away. It was as though it was imbued with a life of its own. Every tiny movement was vividly amplified and the curly hairs looked like surreal trees waving in the breeze whilst her prominent labia began to swell like awakening leviathans. Rhona could see how hideously rapt I was but, rather than push the lens out of the way, she brought her hand forward and pressed with two fingers to coax her prominent clitoris from its fleshy cloak. Its resemblance to the head of a penis was frighteningly evident and I knew I should have been revolted but I simply stared as it darkened and grew firmer. For some irrational reason I was suddenly frightened and knowing what I was expected to do only increased the fear. Even as I watched tiny beads of moisture formed on her labia growing to join one another.

“Are you just going to stare all day?”

She continued to stroke at her clitoris even as she said it and then broke the spell by brusquely pushing the lens out of the way. Now that everything was back in its normal perspective I braced myself to do what needed to be done. She brought her hand back between her legs and used her fingers to present her clitoris again and, like an automaton, I leant forward to lick at it. To my astonishment she sighed loudly and climaxed almost immediately, leading me to suspect that she had been turned on from the moment that my predicament was revealed, but she was not going to let me off quite so lightly.

“Put your tongue in…”

She shifted herself slightly and, at the same time, she moved her fingers down to part her labia. Her scent was suddenly stronger and, as I pressed my tongue deep into the slickened channel, I was forced to swallow the pent up product of her climax. She seemed content simply to keep me in place as she lazily rubbed at her clitoris but after a couple of minutes it was obvious that she was at the edge once again. She put her hand to the back of my head and drew me upwards.

“Suck it…!”

I experienced a moments queasiness as the image of her clitoris under the lens returned unbidden to my mind but she pulled me down into the hot pit of her sex and I worked the solid nub between my lips. I sucked hard, sensing her demand, and her body shook as she surrendered for a second time. I continued to suckle until it was completely over and she collapsed onto the bench. Seeing her there, slumped and sated, I could not disregard her age or her ordinariness and I wondered how the hell I had let things come to such a pass.