The Many Games Wilda Plays

If your husband/wife/significant other forced you into chastity, made you go three years without an orgasm, then told you that your next orgasm will be your last ever, what would you do? Would you plead with your partner to let you have another afterwards? Would you accept your fate and try to make your last orgasm a memorable one? Or would you try and make your orgasm last forever?

Two months ago, I was told by my mistress that I was going to be given an orgasm; my first ever and the last one she would ever let me have.

"I know that I've always teased you by making you wonder what it is that you're missing, Emily, but I've decided to take off your chastity belt, and lick and vibe you to one incredible orgasm, so that for the rest of your entire life, you know exactly what it is you're being denied."

My mistress Wilda and I got together when I was seventeen and she was almost seventeen. We had been best friends for as long as I can remember. When I confessed I was gay and Wilda told me she was bisexual, becoming a couple felt natural. We were a normal couple of girls for the first year of our relationship. We took things slow and kept our relationship private. I'm sure the fact that we were dating went right over the heads of many boys at school.

Wilda was ready for sex before I was, and she frequently tried to get intimate when we were in private. It made me feel uncomfortable. I simply wasn't ready yet.

We finally had sex a little more than a year later on Wilda's eighteenth birthday. That day, I finally told her I was ready, I kissed her and thanked her for waiting for me, and then I sucked and licked and fucked her pussy with my mouth as best as I was able. I'd stripped off, Wilda only wore a T-shirt. After that first incredible orgasm she received, she urged me to climb onto the bed, and we laid there kissing, sharing her cum spattered on my lips and on my tongue, but her hands did not approach my own eager kitty.

"That was amazing, Emily. I'm so worn out. Can you just lie with me here for a while until I'm ready to make you feel special?"

"Of course!" I chirped. Knowing what I know now, I can tell you it was just a ploy. She had no intention of making me feel special. I don't know if Wilda planned on denying me from the moment she first tried to entice me to have sex with her, or if she decided it later. For all I know, she might have only decided that on her eighteenth birthday, while we went at it.

Perhaps, if I had just given myself to her sooner, I wouldn't be her chaste toy. I know I should just ask her, she's not the kind of mistress to punish me for that, but honestly, I think it is better if I never know what could have been, because this is the life I have, and for all the pain and humiliation, it's the one I want to live. I'm happy. In fact, I've never been happier.

I noticed a pattern over the next few months during sex. Wilda would kiss me and lick me and I'd get close, but then we'd switch, and I'd be the one getting her closer to the edge, but she'd always reach that orgasm, and by the time we switched again, my orgasm would seem so far away. When we played in positions where we could both extract pleasure, she'd often make a big show of moaning and squirming and taking her hands and lips off of me while she did. I really enjoyed seeing and hearing what I was doing to her, but judging by the perfect slave she has me trained to be these days, I know that what I was doing wasn't that great.

Those games continued until my birthday, when I turned nineteen, and she offered me my gift. She couldn't offer sex for the first time, but she did offer a new kind of sex. She could have offered my very first orgasm, but she went in the opposite direction, and presented her gift to me in private.

It was a steel chastity belt.

"Say something, Emily. Tell me what you're thinking. You know I don't like it when you make that face."

"Sorry, Wilda. I just don't know what to say. You want me to wear that?"

"Of course. It's your present, I don't see why I'd wear it."

"W-when will I be able to take it off?"

"When I say so. I'll keep the key on this chain around my neck just like this, so you know I won't lose it, okay? Trust me, Emily, when I let you out and make you cum it will feel ten times better after being in that belt."

"I suppose..."

"You suppose? Listen, Emily, if don't want to you don't have to. I can buy you a new present."

"I'm just a little scared."

"You know I'd never do anything to hurt you. This is what's best for you. After you've been in it for a couple of days you'll know that it makes you happy. And I can tell you right now that it will make me happy."

With that bit of encouragement, I opened the belt. I didn't say anything, but I was going to put it on. I think Wilda worried that I might back out at the last second.

"Allow me." She said, before practically yanking the thing out of my hands. She must have practised opening and closing the belt before, considering how fast she got it locked around my waist, separating me and my pussy for three whole years.

Of course, she didn't tell me I wasn't going to get let out. She promised that when I got out, my orgasm would be incredible. That we'd dedicate an entire day to my pleasure exclusively. I believed her, even as the week I was supposed to have it on became a fortnight, and then a month. Even as I started to get beyond frustrated, stopped serving her pussy, and started to act out. Even as--as a punishment for disobeying her--she told me I'd have to keep it on for another month. Which then became three months.

Whether I was good or bad, the belt stayed on. If I was good, she'd act like it was a reward, to stay in just that 'little' bit longer so that when I finally got out, my orgasm would be so worth the wait. If I was bad, staying in was a punishment, to teach me to behave and do as my mistress ordered. Extra rules and tasks were introduced as time went on. When we moved in together half a year after she first put me in chastity, she could really start to dominate me.

Wilda started to work at her Dad's company, and he paid well, well enough for us to get out own house. Not a flat, but a house. And he paid well enough that Wilda could support us on her own. She told me to become a housewife, so I did. I stayed at home keeping the place clean and tidy, and it didn't last long before she started making me wear a vibrator in my pussy while I worked to torment me. Wilda liked it when I begged for pretty much everything but a release. Begging her not to put a toy in me. Begging to let me lick her pussy. Begging her not to release all of the dirty pictures she had of me. By then, the prospect that I would get a release seemed so foolish. I only lived to serve her, and my brain had rewired itself. I got a unique sensation pulsing throughout my whole body the likes of which I felt under no other circumstances when I pleased my mistress. It was not a pleasurable sensation necessarily, but rather a sense of accomplishment. No, I don't think that's right either. It was more like... I was fulfilling my duty. Serving her had become my source of pleasure now, and I lived to be the best tease toy I could be.

Wearing a vibrator in my pussy most of the time graduated to every single night. To this day my mistress makes me sleep in the sexiest lingerie she can find, while she mostly sleeps nude. She likes the feeling of it, and enjoys rubbing up against me at her leisure to enjoy the feel of silky bras and panties and nylon hold ups. But I--forced to endure that all night--writhing around in my belt with a vibrator inside, desperately trying not to moan and wake my mistress--I feel like I could burn a hole right through the bed every single night.

When Wilda demanded that I start to wear a metal collar to show that I'm owned, that's when she started telling people of our D/s lifestyle. I had to start wearing other restraints in public as well, such as my leather wrist and ankle restraints, unlocked, but visible to show everyone that at some point, I'd be bound to our bed getting teased by my mistress. If I wear skirts or dresses, she'll put me in thigh restraints chained to my belt and to each other to force me to walk with dainty steps.

Wilda started online accounts to post videos of her teasing me, but didn't tell me the account names, so I couldn't find them online.

On top of that, I started wearing a blindfold when she teased me more and more often, many times I didn't even know whether she was filming me or not. All of our friends knew the account names of the sites we were on, but were under strict orders not to tell me.

It was so humiliating to hear them compliment me for a video they saw during a tender moment I thought my mistress and I were sharing exclusively. I didn't even know where the cameras were hidden, but I knew she must have hid some somewhere. In all my time cleaning the place on my own, I've never found a single one.

As part of those games and videos, Wilda became my 'mummy', and I, her 'baby girl'. I don't wear diapers, thankfully, but she did get me plenty of 'little' clothes that adult babies wear, she sometimes makes me suck on a pacifier, I even have a pacifier gag. It's mostly for the videos, but she does sometimes make me act like a baby for fun.

"Emily! I have a treat for you!" She called out in a playful voice. I'll never forget that day; the day Wilda forced me to 'become' bisexual.

"I'm here, mummy." I nervously told her, appearing from another room. I knew that she was going to tease me, that's what that tone of voice meant. But as usual, I had no idea how.

"So Pete was telling me how he'd love to fuck you. Of course, I told him you're a chastity toy, so there's no way he can do that, but he made the next best offer. He asked if I could let you eat his cum."

"Eat cum?!" I cried out. Saying no was pointless. I had to desperately hope that 'no' is what my mistress had decided for me, but seeing her pull out a tied up condom, I knew the answer.

"So I jerked him off and got this nice tasty treat for you. Let me just untie it for you."

I didn't say anything, I just stood there while she did it, and then, when she passed me the condom, I stood there for longer than I should have. My mistress knew why I was hesitating and she didn't like that one bit. She started tapping her foot, so I quickly put the end of the condom in my mouth, grabbed the other end, and sucked all of Pete's cum from it. It tasted rank, like nothing I'd ever tasted before. But I had to smile at her and show her my empty mouth.

"Good girl." She smirked. "I wonder if any of our other friends would like you to eat their cum? I should probably start filming you do it if they want to. Do you think you'd like that, Emily?"

"I... I think that's a wonderful idea, mummy."

That began a game mistress plays with me on a regular basis, maybe a couple times a week. Out of all of our friends who want me to eat their cum, she brings me one condom filled with cum. She doesn't tell me whose it is, but I will eat it, and must guess who it belongs to. There's a chance it will also belong to someone else entirely, in which case I can guess 'someone else'. If I'm right, then I win, but if I'm wrong, then I'm punished. And I don't think I've ever been right. Men's cum tastes different every time! Every time I suck the semen out of a condom, I have no clue whose it was!

So mistress begins filming as soon as she hands me the condom. She lets me guess incorrectly, and then she turns on the vibrator in my belt, and makes me sing a song. Usually it's a song from a movie, or a cartoon theme song, or some popular song at the time. I like to sing, whether for Wilda or just on my own. I'm normally pretty good, but trying to sing while mistress toys with me rattles me more than you can possibly understand. But I'll try to explain it:

Edging constantly while I'm singing, looking into the camera and knowing mistress is going to show the video to all of our friends and put it on our porn channels, the humiliation and the excitement causes tears to start streaming down my face, and my voice shakes and jumps and I can barely keep from moaning like a whore. I sound awful singing in that state, I know I do. But I have to do it as punishment for guessing incorrectly whose cum I had just swallowed down.

But that about does it. There have been many more games mistress has played with me over the three years she's had me in chastity. But many of her favourite games have been covered. For all the stuff I do for her, and for all the humiliation I've resigned myself to, I never expected to be offered an orgasm as part of one of her games. Nor could I ever have anticipated my response to it.

"I know that I've always teased you by making you wonder what it is that you're missing, Emily, but I've decided to take off your chastity belt, and lick and vibe you to one incredible orgasm, so that for the rest of your entire life, you know exactly what it is you're being denied."

If I had been told in abstract, by anyone else, that my mistress might allow me an orgasm, and I believed them, I probably would have broken down in tears of joy. But when I started crying after Wilda made the offer, they certainly weren't tears of joy.

I asked you what you'd do in my situation. Let me tell you how I responded:

"Please mummy! No! Don't do it! Don't make me cum! I promise I'll never beg for a release again! I'll be the best slave you could ask for. I won't ever hesitate to do something you tell me, and I'll never try to get out of a punishment."

"Oh, Emily. This was always coming."

"It was?"

"On your nineteenth birthday I told you that you'd stay in the belt until I want to release you. Well, that day has finally come. I thought you'd be happy, you're finally getting that orgasm I promised you, baby girl."

I just stayed there begging on my knees, sobbing loudly.

"Please don't make me!" I cried again.

"I thought you'd be happy." She frowned. And knowing that I was going against her wishes was so painful to bear. So I tried to keep more tears at bay, and wiped away the ones soaking my face.

"I don't want to know what I'm missing. I don't want you to make me feel good knowing that you'll never do it again."

"If you don't let me take off your belt and make you cum, then you'll turn me into a liar. You don't want to turn me into a liar, do you, baby girl?"

"No, mummy."

"Well then Emily, let me ask you this: If I offered you out the belt forever, and told you we could be just a normal couple, would you want that?"

I shied away from her. It was the first time I'd ever really thought about it, to be honest. She led me down the path of domination slowly using chastity to control me. My only job was to make her happy. I lived for her pleasure, it had been so long since I'd thought about my own. Imagining our lives any other way was unthinkable.

So I shook my head as a response. The belt around my waist, the leather straps around my wrists and ankles, and the metal collar around my neck, they all felt a part of me, a part of me that chained me--literally--to the environments of play in our house, where'd I become my mistress' favourite toy.

"Then I don't see any other alternative. Even if you don't want me to, I have to keep my promise to you, Emily. I have to take off your belt and give you an orgasm. But if you don't want just one, then I suppose I can let you have more than one afterwards."

My heart pounded faster and faster. And I finally could smile at her. That sounded nice, being rewarded for being a good slave at regular intervals, like most chaste subs, did sound like something I could accept and live with, even if it could possibly make me less submissive.

But that wasn't what Wilda had in mind. Usually--and especially when she was going to clean or shave me--mistress didn't waste any time unlocking my belt and lifting the front shield from me. But on that day, she took her time to let the anticipation mount until I was shaking with excitement. She then pulled the entire belt away from me, and ran her fingers gently across my quivering pussy.

"It occurs to me that every single time I've ever unlocked you since first putting this belt on you, you've been tied up. Either to something, or I've just fastened your arms behind your back. In all that time, you haven't even touched it once. Do you miss touching yourself?"

"N-No, mistress." It was the truth. I lived for her pleasure. If there was something I regretted, it was having to waste my mistress' time cleaning and shaving me, since I couldn't be trusted to clean myself. Just in case my emotions ever got the better of me and I plunged a finger inside my pussy. There was always an overpowering sense of urgency, after all, whenever my belt was off. Perhaps if my hands were unbound I wouldn't be able to resist the urge to be naughty, and I'd give up the submissiveness mistress had worked so hard to foster in me.

Wilda leaned down, and started fondling my clitoris with her tongue. I'd felt her many times over the three years I'd been in chastity, she played with me and teased me often, the only difference on that day was that I'd cum at the end of it. My heart raced thinking about it. She started sliding a vibrator in and out of my pussy, and I started moaning and squirming. My legs kicked at the covers, and my pussy kept tensing against my will. It greedily sucked every centimetre of that vibrator, and wanted to swallow it whole.

"Ah! Mummy! That feels so good!" I called out. She hummed in response, but didn't lift her tongue from me. Eventually, she instead pressed that vibrator up against my arsehole, and pushed it inside. Her tongue began to explore the fiery inside of my body, and I moaned louder and louder until I was certain the whole country knew I was about to orgasm, at twenty two years old, for the first time in my whole life!

I think that if I was a man, my mistress' constant torture would have turned me into a premature ejaculator. Mistress' edging sessions could sometimes last hours, but could edge me in only a few seconds if she wanted to. My record for the most edges in one session was a flat one hundred. I was edging at an average of only forty seconds, but by the end mistress had to go so easy on me just to let me cool down so she could edge me again. We went for over two hours. I had held on for so long, cried so much, and my pussy was red raw by that point. But mistress just laughed, and told me she'd make me endure another hundred edges. At the very notion of more torture, I passed out.

Though my mistress teased me and built me up that day as well, the orgasm she eventually granted me felt absolutely incredible. My entire mind shook, my love for my mistress reached peaks I never knew it could, and I felt a sense of relief I hadn't felt for three years or any time before that. I laid there, exhausted, gasping for air, covered in sweat. Wilda climbed over me, and kissed me passionately, generously sharing my cum with me.

"There you go, baby girl. Was that everything you thought it would be?"

"More than that." I whimpered. I longed to hug her as tightly as I could, but I couldn't free my hands, only she could, so I settled for a confession. "I love you mistress."

"I love you too, Emily. My sweet baby girl. You're so cute."

That's when mistress climbed off of me, and started for my belt. She took her time to fasten me in, making lots of eye contact and smiling while she did. She also inserted a vibrator into me. When I was locked up tight once more, she clicked her nails on the belt, and spoke with each tap.

"Safe. And. Secure."

And then she let me out. I rushed into her arms, and hugged her for what felt like an hour. Though I think only a minute or so passed.