The Belt

“Wh-what… what..?” Jim was having trouble speaking, now. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What do you mean by ‘take it’?”

“You reall do need to have it all completely spelled out point by point, don’t you?” Anne said, from somewhere behind Katherine.

Katherine licked his lips with a quick flick of her tongue, then drew back. “It’s a test as well. If you can handle everything we do to you and keep wearing that belt, then you pass. Otherwise, Anne and I are just going to be the consolation prize.”

“A hell of a consolation, though,” Jim said. “And it’s still going on the assumption that I actually want to be submissive to you all.”

Anne stood and reached past Katherine’s shoulder. She had something in her hand and passed it to Jim. It was a knife.

“Then let’s just put that assumption to the test,” she said.

Jim accepted the knife, then held it as if he didn’t know what to do with it. It didn’t take him long, however, to come to a decision and set it down again. Katherine smiled and Anne applauded his decision, mockingly.

“Passed the first test, loverboy,” she said. “Think you can last the night, though?”

“Only one way to find out, isn’t there? I think I’d like to see where this is going to go.”

“Ahh – so you’re playing it in the spirit of adventure, then? Rather than that of ‘I think I’m submissive but don’t want to admit it in case it makes me seem less manly’?”

“Could be either way, but how do you know for sure?”

That was probably the most defiant and rebellious thing he’d said for hours, now. But Anne merely smiled once more and Katherine merely raised that sardonic eyebrow once more. They were still mocking him, still setting the pace of the night andstill in control.

Typically, it was Anne who finally broke the silence. “We’ll see, Jimmy-boy,” she said. “You have some semblance of free will right now, but the time will come when that question will be conclusively answered. Right now, though – why don’t you watch the show and then join in when you feel ready?”

“Join in?” he said.

Her eyes flicked down to his crotch, then back up to his face. The amusement still danced in her eyes. “Join in as much as you can, at least,” she said.

Then she moved in closer, and gently caressed the side of Katherine’s face, then leaned forward and kissed her full on the mouth. Katherine responded by turning towards her and the two girls raised themselves up on their knees and moved into each others’ arms. Jim watched raptly, as the two girls quickly seemed to become one writhing mass of limbs, stroking, cupping and playing with each other. He groaned and shifted, slightly. Christ, he really wished he could play with himself right now, as he watched this show. That knife was so close, so tempting. All he had to do was saw through the leather straps with it, and his cock would be free and ready to take pleasure and give it. All night long, they said. All. Night. Long.

The sun slowly rose and illuminated the room, but nobody really noticed. The three had writhed and moaned for hours in a mixture of agony and ecstasy, pleasure and pain, relief, release and exquisite, ecstatic frustration. When the girls had finally satiated themselves and settled back to bask in their respective afterglows, an almost companionable silence had descended on them. Cushions and beanbags had been dragged from throughout the living room and they had settled back on them wrapped in a tangle of limbs. Katherine rested her head on Jim’s shoulder and one hand on his stomach, while Anne’s hand rested on his thigh. He had an arm round both of them, absently cupping a breast each. Despite his misgiving, he had found that he had been wholehearted in his participation.

For him at least, sleep had been a long time coming and that was only partially due to his own lack of sexual release. He had lain back in a mood of self-analytical reflection and pondered the events of the night for a good hour. The two girls had quickly fallen soundly asleep and he found himself settling into the curves of their bodies – rejoicing in the tactile sensations as their feminine curves pressed against him and their heat burned through his own body. It was incredibly soothing. His body felt lifeless and drained, but his head still raced.

What had happened tonight? Shouldn’t tonight’s events have been pure torture for a heterosexual male who craved nothing but his own orgasm, followed immediately by trying to hold back sleep while he fulfilled his repayment by carrying on with whatever conversational requirements were expected of him? Well, that was the usual role, wasn't it? But had tonight really been all that bad?

Something had been relieved of him tonight. Some duty. But what duty had it been? Could it be – and this was a radical thought – could it be the duty of having to chase down his own orgasm? Had the denial of that one physical act been a blessing rather than a burden? This was the thought that had creased his forehead into a deep, deep frown and kept him awake for so long.

Sometimes a thought becomes so deeply ingrained in a person’s head that it takes an incredible amount of thought and contrary evidence to dislodge it. And in Jim’s head, the thought he was struggling with was the one that governed the entire concept, philosophy and point of sex. It was about orgasm. That spurting moment of pleasure and excitement and orgasm. Not purely that, of course, but that was the conclusion. The inevitable conclusion. That was what it all led up to and culminated in. Wasn’t it? Right now, he was having a hard time dealing with the contrary evidence of his own satiation and satisfaction.

Jim had never been arrogant enough to believe that he had brought a girl to orgasm every time he had sex. He was aware enough of female biology to know that it wasn’t an inevitable event, and while he was a thoughtful and considerate lover, he wasn’t sensitive enough to consider himself overly deficient in any way in any way if that event didn’t come about. Oh, he knew he was hardly the world’s greatest lover – technique and style were hardly his strongest points – but care, attention and an adventurous nature in bed were excellent compensatory factors. He was more than capable of keeping his cock hard for a long, long time and more than capable of delivering a good, hard fuck when the excitement took over. When times and places and moods all conspired to deliver an opportunity for a variation of either of those themes, his cock was always ready.

That was the core of his thoughts tonight though, wasn’t it? His cock hadn’t been required – it hadn’t even been wanted. Oh, both those girls had delighted in his hands, his tongue, his touch, his caress, his… they had delighted in him. He had been eager and attentive and he had participated fully – without his cock. And he had delighted in what they had done to him. His ears had been chewed, his nipples had been played with, every inch of his body – barring a very specific eight inches – had been stroked and had felt pleasure that night. And now he was forced to confront the thought – had the pursuit of his own orgasm always been a hindrance before? Had that got in the way of a different kind of pleasure that may have been slightly less intense but was much more intimate and much more satisfying?

Freed from the pursuit of his own pleasure, what had he done? He had concentrated more exclusively on the pursuit of Anne and Katherine’s pleasure. And what had been the unforeseen consequence of that? Had he experienced other pleasures that would otherwise have been denied to him?

Something else… he had genuinely enjoyed being with two girls that were both sexually aggressive and sexually uninhibited. With previous lovers, Jim had always been the one to take control and lead the way and suggest new and more exciting activities. He had always been the seducer. But hadn’t he always burned to be seduced instead? Wasn’t there always a part of him who wanted to have someone else take control and lead him by the hand, instead? Hadn’t he always wanted to participate in someone else’s fantasy, rather than persuade them to follow his?

But he wasn’t submissive. His thoughts were cyclical and kept coming back to this same central premise over and over again. He wasn’t submissive. He was dynamic and pro-active and adventurous – how could those characteristics exist in a person who was submissive? But what if theydid? What if he was submissive? Because if he wasn’t, then there was a contradiction somewhere along the lines.

If you perceive a contradiction… he remembered a quote from a book he had once read.If you perceive a contradiction, then examine your precepts. You’ll find that one of them is wrong. Well, one of his precepts was wrong. Which was it?

When sleep finally stole over him, he was no closer to settling his confusion.

“Hey, wake up.”

Jim mumbled and rolled over, trying to escape the hand that was shaking his shoulder.

“Hey, Jimmy. C’mon, it’s time we got started.”

The hand was persistent. Dimly he absorbed the inflections in the voice that betrayed the mood of the speaker. No irritation – just amusement, so far. He would have wondered why it was important to be aware of that, but couldn’t spare enough of the necessary mental resources. It was vitally important that he just ignore the voice and keep sleeping.

“No luck?”

“No, it’s like trying to wake the dead. We must have really taken it out of him last night. Poor guy.”

“It’s OK. I know what’ll do the trick.”

Jim was suddenly on his feet so rapidly, that he practically knocked Katherine and Anne over. His sharp intake of breath and the brutal clearing away of all the cobwebs that had been draped within his head accompanied the motion and he glared at the two girls, trying to make sense of the sharp, cutting sensation that had preceded his awakening. What had they done?

Anne was holding a glass of water and ice. He felt something trickling down the back of his leg and reached round to find out what it was. Finally, he made the connection with the trickle of water, the glass in Anne’s hand and the sensation that had propelled him so violently to his feet.

He stared at Anne in disbelief. “You jammed an ice cube...?”

He shut up. He couldn’t bring himself to finish the statement.

“Well, as wake-up calls go, it’s an effective one,” Anne said. “You better get dressed – we’ve got places to go.”

“I need to get washed first,” Jim said.

“No time for that. You can get washed at Sian’s place. Come on now, let’s go.”

Both girls were dressed and freshened up already, Jim noticed. They must have been up for a while. They had obviously let him sleep while they got ready – for that, at least, he was grateful.

He was about to go and look out a clean change of clothes, but Anne insisted that there was no need for that and made him put on the same ones he had worn the previous day. Then, they all walked outside and climbed into a limousine that was waiting for them.

Jim had never been inside a limousine before, so had little idea of what to expect. It was a surprise – though not much of one – to find that the windows were tinted so nobody could see inside. When he climbed in, he found that Sian and Carole were inside and waiting for him. The back of the car was big – big enough to comfortably hold six people, with three facing towards the back. An unusual touch was the pair of handcuffs hanging from a hook in the roof on the far side. He saw a corresponding pair of cuffs on the other side as he climbed in. Anne got in first, so when he climbed in, he was flanked by the two girls and facing Sian and Carole.

“Well, that’s the conventions of decency taken care of,” Sian said, without preamble as soon as the door had closed. “You haven’t shocked any of the neighbours and nobody can see you now. Take those filthy clothes off.”

Jim hesitated only a second, then started unbuttoning his shirt. Even though he knew that nobody could see into the back of the limo, he still felt very exposed. The car was already driving off and people were staring at it curiously, as it passed them. It didn’t take much imagination to believe that they were staring straight at him as he stripped out of his clothes.

Carole took his short from him and shoved it into a bag, then waited while he unbuttoned his jeans and slipped them off. It took no time at all until he was left wearing nothing barring the chastity belt. Sian leaned forward and took the padlock in the palm of her hand for a moment.

“Well done,” she said. “You actually passed the test. You’re the first to ever get this far.”

“I was sure he was going to weaken last night,” Anne told her enthusiastically. “There was a moment where I honestly thought that he’d cut the belt off. But he never did.”

“Well done. That’s very impressive. I imagine you’d like that thing to come off now?”

Jim looked at Sian hopefully. “Yes, please. I’d like that.” He tried not to sound too eager.

Sian let go of the padlock and sat back. She looked out the window and seemed to be thinking. Jim wondered if she hadn’t made up her mind yet. They were in the middle of town now, he noticed – he felt even more exposed than before.

“Some questions first,” Sian said eventually. “How often do you masturbate?”

Jim was shocked at the question. “Uh… um… twice a day… usually,” he finally managed to stammer.

“Usually?”

“Well, you know… once in the morning, once at night.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s normal, isn’t it? Just… umm… just what men do.”

Sian leaned forward and looked Jim right in the eye, then spoke slowly and clearly. “I’m not asking what other men do or what is and isn’t natural. I don’t want generalisations along those lines. I’m asking specifically about your masturbational habits and what you get out of them.”

“Yeah, sorry. Well… it’s habit, really. In the morning – before I get out of bed. And at night, to help me sleep.”

“And masturbating helps you get to sleep?”

“Yes. I think so. I’m not sure.”

“And helps you wake up in the morning?”

Jim was more sure about that and nodded vigorously at a question he could both answer and elaborate on without doubt. “Yes, it does. It’s the first thing I do – how I start the day, y’know?”

“So the same activity both lulls you to sleep and wakes you up?”

This was an issue that he didn’t like to contemplate too closely. It had occurred to him before, but he had always dismissed it. How could he argue with something that worked, despite the apparent contradictions?

“Yes,” he said. But his voice lacked conviction.

“Do you want to hear my own theory?” Sian asked.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“All right, then.” Sian clasped her hands before her. “I think it’s a habit – nothing more. When you were a teenager and you first masturbated, I imagine that it felt intense. Powerful. I imagine that it was such a pleasant sensation – unlike any that you had ever experienced before – that you enjoyed it as much as possible, didn’t you?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“And now that you’re in your thirties, does it still feel as pleasant as it did when you were a teenager? Be honest.”

Jim squirmed. “No, not really,” he answered.

“Why do you suppose that is?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, but I think youdo know,” Sian answered firmly. “I think that when you were a teenager you were so exhilarated by this intense and exciting experience that you pursued it as much as you possibly could. I believe that every opportunity you got, you masturbated. Every moment of privacy that came your way was one you used to play with your penis. Every girl in every dirty magazine you could get hold of would have looked out of the picture and watched you turning the pages with one hand and thrashing your erection with the other. Every sordid little fantasy you ever had culminated with your ejaculating over your fist. Tell me – what do you think your navel is for?”

Jim had been growing more scarlet by the second as he listened to this disturbingly accurate accusation, but he found himself completely unable to follow the sudden lurch in Sian’s speech.

“I – I don’t know.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what itisn’t for,” Sian said. “Itisn’t a receptacle for your semen.”

They had left the town behind, now. They were on a country road.

“I think that at some point in your teenage years, your penis stopped becoming a source of pleasure and your masturbation merely became nothing more than a habit. I even wonder how often it is that you genuinely enjoy that moment of ejaculation that once seemed so intense. Be honest, now – does that moment genuinely justify being called an orgasm?”

Jim shook his head. “No.”

“No,” Sian repeated. “I didn’t think so. I think it’s a purely physical reflex. A release – nothing more pleasant than a call of nature and not even that necessary. I think that you have taken a gift and abused it. And I think that you need to be taught how to appreciate how much of a gift it is.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

Sian clapped her hands mockingly. “Well, well, well. So nice of you to rejoin the conversation, James. How pleasant to have you back. And a very intelligent question. What I plan to do is keep doing what I’ve already done, but take it further.”

“Further how?”

“I am going to take complete control of your masturbational habits. Something that you have always considered to be a right, simply because you own a penis is about to become a privilege, simply because I am about to take ownership of that penis away from you. A privilege that will be granted to you as and when I see fit. And I’m not just going to govern how often you masturbate, but how often you even handle your penis. I’m sure you’ve already had to visit the toilet, haven’t you?”

Last night’s shameful visit suddenly burned in his memory and flamed on his face. That first visit and those other visits that had followed it. He nodded.

Sian nodded, in satisfaction. “You take comfort from owning a penis, don’t you? I thought you would. Comfort from seeing it there, comfort from feeling it swing between your legs when you’re naked and unfettered, comfort merely from being to reach down and hold it. Don’t you? And you probably feel a sense of power from being able to point it when you go to the toilet, don’t you?” She nodded again. “Yes, I can just imagine it. Like a dog marking its territory. So can you imagine what it’s going to be like if you can’t touch it without my permission? What if I don’t give you permission for weeks at a time? What if you have to come to my home for and ask for my permission to remove the belt and masturbate… or to be masturbated? Think of it, James. How strange and frightening and… seductive… must that thought be? You’d be erect right now if you were capable of such a thing, wouldn’t you?”

“I… don’t know,” Jim lied.

“Then let’s find out.”

Without warning, Anne took hold of one of Jim’s arms and raised it to fasten his wrist into the cuff hanging from the ceiling of the limo. Katherine did the same with his other arm – he didn’t resist. When he was secured, Sian produced the key – it was attached to a chain round her neck. She took the chain off, then leaned forward and unlocked the padlock. Suddenly the whole contraption was loose, and she was drawing it off James. Immediately his cock rose up, strong and proud before the amused gazes of all four girls. Not for the first time, Jim wondered about the chauffeur he hadn’t seen yet and how much of the proceedings were being observed by this mystery person.

“And here you have a fresh dilemna,” Sian said. “Even if I unlock your penis, that doesn’t mean that you’re going to be free to touch it. Consider this for a moment… what if I never allow you to touch your own penis again? What if every detail of its care and attention is given over to myself and Katherine, Anne and Carole here? Or to anyone else I care to involve?”