Chapter 07 - Cameras

When I wake up the following day, I find I'm still in the dress I wore last night, and my white panties are around my ankles. Flushing red remembering how I got to bed last night. I quickly dressed in an oversized T-shirt and fresh panties, as I had no plan to leave the house today. After tending to my morning routine of brushing my teeth and tying my shoulder-length hair into a ponytail, I leave the bedroom and find Ben standing in my kitchen. His award-winning smile is directed at me, and he says, "Good morning; how did you sleep?"

I freeze in my tracks, a mixture of surprise and confusion washing over me. How did he end up here? Did he stay over? Did he sneak back in somehow? The previous night's events flooded my mind, and I vaguely recall him asking for a key. It had seemed like a dream at the time, and I hadn't fully comprehended the significance of his request. I manage to stammer out a response, "Fine." However, he pauses in his actions, looking at me intently. More memories from last night come rushing back, and I realize I should address him with the proper title. I correct myself, "Uh, fine, sir." A smile forms on his face, and he continues his kitchen tasks.

He gestures for me to sit on one of the stools on the island, and I comply, moving slowly and deliberately. I questionably open my bare legs and place my hands beneath me, a gesture I wasn't sure about but felt right.

As Ben finishes cooking steak and eggs, he sets the delicious meal on my small dining room table. He invites me to join him with a gesture, and I sit in the same chair as the night before. Just like last time, Ben positions the chair to face him, and I barely open my legs and rest my hands beneath me. He raises an eyebrow and taps my leg, indicating that he wants me to open my legs more. I comply, adjusting my position to accommodate his request.

During our breakfast conversation, he mentioned that he couldn't stay long and needed to return to the hotel to pack. He explains that he has business in Europe that requires his attention. Seeing the disappointment on my face, he gives me a chaste kiss on the cheek. I inquired about his absence, and he informed me that the project is expected to last between 3 to 6 weeks. If I feel comfortable, he wants to start video calls with me during his time away. We had only spoken on the phone a few times while working together, having solely communicated through texts when discussing anything personal. Hence, I was somewhat hesitant, but I agreed to his request.

Ben reveals that he has purchased a few things for me, which are set to arrive this week. He asks me to wait until we have our FaceTime call before opening them, as he wants to witness my reaction firsthand. The anticipation of the surprise gifts adds an element of excitement to our upcoming video calls.

Little did I know when Ben left for his trip in February 2020, he would be away for almost 18 months. His European projects kept extending, and with quarantine measures in place, he couldn't afford to lose additional time for a short visit.

Ben would send me gifts during his time away, gradually pushing the boundaries with each package. The clothing items he selected for me grew increasingly risqué, reflecting his demands and desires. At the same time, I felt excitement and nervousness when I received these gifts; seeing his smile when I wore them erased any doubts. Working from home since March of that year, I often had him as my only source of conversation, especially since my workplace was slow to adapt to remote communication platforms like Teams.

As the months passed, I became attuned to his preferences, sometimes even surprising him by wearing the lingerie I hoped he would approve of. However, as we reached the six-month mark, I could sense his frustration at being unable to return physically. Despite the distance, our video calls brought us closer, and I felt we had known each other forever. The longing for his touch and the desire to be in his presence grew stronger with time.

The installation of the cameras in my house became a reality as Ben's desire for more control was being granted. He assured me that only he could control access to the live feed, and no one else could see or record anything without him knowing about it. He wanted to be able to check in on me at any time without appearing needy by constantly calling me.

To install the cameras, Ben enlisted the help of his childhood friend, John, who stayed at Ben's house while he was away. I met John for the first time when he came to the house, us both wearing masks and maintaining social distancing. John diligently installed cameras in every room, sometimes even multiple cameras in a single room. He also installed a doorbell camera and a comprehensive security system for the house's exterior.

John gave me written instructions on accessing the live feed and navigating the system. With over 20 cameras inside the tiny house and an additional six outside, it felt like I had entered my version of the reality television show "Big Brother." The constant surveillance added intrigue and discomfort to my everyday life, knowing that Ben could see me at any moment.

When Ben called me later that day of the installation, he expressed his happiness and mentioned that whenever he thought of me, he would turn on the feed on his phone. He also noted that he would turn it off if anyone were nearby, but since he had a private office, he could keep it constantly on.

With time I lost my discomfort as I saw how happy Ben was and would frequently message me about his views and what they did to him. On days when he was feeling down, he would sometimes ask me to take an extra shower or try on a few outfits and show them to him so he could see them through the camera feed.

At the beginning of 2021, as restrictions started to ease up, I had been confined to my house for almost ten months straight, and I was beginning to experience a severe case of cabin fever. One Saturday, I decided to go for a drive and perhaps some window shopping at an outdoor mall an hour or so from where I lived. However, as I walked through the mall, I realized I had left my phone at home. I immediately drove home as fast as possible. I was concerned that Ben would be worried because the "find my phone" feature would indicate that I was at home, even though I wasn't there.

As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed John walking out of my front door, rapidly signing to me. His signing was so fast that I couldn't comprehend what he was saying. Since I met John, I started taking American Sign Language (ASL) classes online to communicate with him. Feeling a sense of obligation, I wanted to make an effort to speak the same language as him. Seeing I didn't understand the furry of his hand jesters, John forcefully handed my phone to me, and I could see that I had missed over a dozen calls.

I quickly FaceTimed Ben, and he sighed as soon as he answered. He expressed his deep worry and helplessness, being thousands of miles away from me. I apologized profusely, explaining that I was feeling cooped up and no longer had a routine for what to bring when leaving the house, considering it had been almost a year since I last did so. He reassured me that it was okay, but he couldn't help but feel anxious, fearing that something terrible might have happened to me, like being raped and kidnapped.

A few weeks later, Ben casually mentioned the idea of finding it sexy if I couldn't touch myself or if I was kidnapped; they couldn't access my sex either. At first, I was utterly baffled by his comment. However, he instructed me to open one of the boxes he had sent me. Ben was meticulous about numbering or providing specific dates and times outside the boxes, indicating which one to open.

Curiosity piqued, I opened the designated box and found what appeared to be a set of metal underwear. The confusion must have been evident on my face as Ben burst into laughter, struggling to regain his composure.

That marked the beginning of my life wearing the chastity belt. Initially, I wore it for a few hours daily, gradually increasing the duration. After a couple of months, I could wear it continuously, 24/7. That's when Ben instructed me that a lock would be added to it so I could no longer take it off myself.

Throughout this period, we went through several belts, with John coming over to assist in measuring me accurately for a custom-made one. Ben remained on FaceTime throughout the process, as John meticulously took multiple measurements in various ways.

John had always presented himself as a perfect gentleman to me, never showing any outward signs of being anything less than honorable. However, there was a lingering sense of caution in the back of my mind, reminding me to be wary and alert, as if he had the potential to surprise me with anything.

I maintained a formal distance from John while interacting with him. However, I still tried to learn ASL, allowing us to have conversations or enabling him to communicate without needing to write everything down. Even then, John preferred to be silent, so it was rare when he did sign anything.

Once we had found the perfect fitting belt, John would visit weekly to unlock my current one, allowing me to shower normally. Ben would always watch during this time to ensure I didn't attempt anything beyond what was permitted. Afterward, John would provide me either a new belt or one I had previously used, which had been thoroughly cleaned to restore it to a like-new condition. John would fasten the lock with Ben, either watching on FaceTime or through the camera feeds.

When Ben suggested that John tie me up so he could watch my struggles on the video feed, I firmly said no. It was the first time I had ever stood my ground with him. Although my refusal upset Ben, I explained that involving John in such an intimate act would require close physical contact, which was too personal and private to involve his best friend, especially when he hadn't experienced it with me yet. Ben, finally understanding my perspective, never brought up the topic again. From then on, John had specific duties or chores assigned to him and would only touch me if the situation required it.

Sometime within the following year, John did start waxing me. I don't recall the exact conversation or how I agreed to it. Still, I remember that, like before, John maintained his gentlemanly demeanor and approached our interactions professionally and business-like.

During the following year, Ben occupied almost my every thought. I was mindful of everything I did to ensure I pleased him. My bedroom had multiple cameras, one in each corner and another looking directly over the bed. I would wear wireless headphones connected to my phone while he watched the camera feed and gave me directions on what to do.

With the chastity belt, my options were limited to the two remaining holes. Ben wanted to ensure I could give a proper blowjob and had me practice deep-throating with various toys. I would sit in the middle of the bed, looking up at the camera and trying to get the different-sized dildos down my throat. Ben would allow me to use the toy on my remaining hole if I went the whole session without gagging.

Listening to him give me instructions on how to stick it in, to tease my hole with just the tip, to keep going until he said it would put me over the top, and I would explode into an orgasm when he gave me permission to cum.

Ben had also been sending me different types of butt plugs and toys so he could watch me assault myself for his pleasure. His favorite toy to trade me with was a remote control plug that he could access via an app to ensure I was thinking of him whenever he thought I might be distracted.

Lost in my blissful recollections of what Ben had me do to myself, I drifted into a half-asleep state, momentarily forgetting that my legs were restrained by a spreader bar. As I instinctively went to stretch, I abruptly realized my predicament as the spreader bar held my legs locked several feet apart. I attempted to glance behind me, inadvertently causing a pleasurable gasp to escape my lips due to the tension of the hook. Worried about triggering an orgasm or increasing the distance between my feet, I froze, not wanting to exacerbate the situation. Eventually, I fell back asleep, unaware that the spreader bar had continued to click further apart throughout the night.

CLICK, CLICK, CLICK, CLICK, CLICK