Travel Arrangements

"Tara, when are you coming home?"

I was facetiming with Jeff on my way back to the hotel.

"Shush, you know I have the rest of the week full of meetings. I miss you so much, I have to restrain myself every night. You know what I mean."

As a matter of fact, I really have to restrain myself when I am alone in my room at night. And what I chose for this trip is a pair of handcuffs that Jeff gave me for Christmas, last year.

I lock them on my wrists, behind my back, and sleep soundly until morning, unable to use the key that I place in an ice tray that I had kept all day in the courtesy fridge. I just hope that no fire alarm is going to set off.

So, he knows exactly what I mean, since we are both bondage enthusiasts, and he likes to put me in chains.

Last year, during lockdown, I had to zoom with my colleagues while handcuffed and I had to pay special attention to not let the manacles be seen on camera.

It was a strange sensation, the thrill to be found, the emotion....

I am a corporate lawyer, usually I stay on the west coast where I live with Jeff, a government contractor, but sometimes I have to hop on the other side of the country to attend meetings in person and to talk with clients.

Last year, due to pandemic restrictions, I skipped this part of the job, but now there are things that my clients do not feel confident to talk about over the phone, so right now I am in the city unfortunately dealing with face masks and a lot of sanitizer.

This also gives me a lot of time to stay in my room to work or talk on the phone between meetings.

Yesterday, while on the phone with Jeff, we were talking about something that we both saw on the net.

It was a chastity suit, a set composed by a belt and a bra. We saw that last year and it was something that put my mind in a frenzy.

"Should I close you in one of them?" He proposed as a joke. But just the thought made me queasy on my legs.

One evening, last winter, we even measured my body, using an order form that we found on the internet.

But that was the end of it.

So when he talked about it, I thought nothing of it. But today, as I enter the hotel lobby, the concierge tells me that there is a package waiting in my room. It had been delivered in the afternoon.

Obviously it is Jeff's doing. But what does he have in mind this time?

As I open the door, I find a fairly cumbersome cardboard box. Immediately I inspect it and it is shipped by a "Markus Creations ltd", a firm that does not ring any bell.

I am preparing to tear the duct tape away, when my phone rings. It is one of the clients I have to meet tomorrow, telling me that he had sent some papers to check beforehand.

This immediately puts the cardboard box out of my mind and, later, I am really too wasted from the legalese to explore it.

The following day, I finally get a chance to look at it, and when I pry open the tape, I see that there are different things, all singularly wrapped in bubble plastic and more tape. It takes me awhile to unpack them all, but as I place all the things on my bed, I am amazed.

It is a chastity suit, like the one we had discussed with Jeff. There are also some thigh cuffs.

Still recovering from the surprise, I take a picture and immediately send it to Jeff.

The response is quick and swift.

"Do you like it?"

"Damn yes. I want to talk to you."

"Facetime me in an hour. I trust you."

An hour? I will not be able to wait this long. I run to the bathroom, and after discarding all my clothes I take a long shower, to clean my thoughts and to refresh after a long day.

But I am not able to forget what is on my bed.

As I leave the bathroom, draped only in a towel I turn my focus on getting a better look at those things, picking them up to a closer inspection.

First, they seem unforgiving and sturdy. The belt is really solid metal. Well made. It is all unlocked. Simply said, you wear it like a diaper, it is hinged at the crotch and it closes at the sides. There are some pieces that I cannot figure out, but I really hope they will make sense sometime in the future.

The chastity bra is absolutely a piece of work. It is made like a sports one, hinged at shoulders and closing at the sides of the chest band. The back part is a metal band that I imagine rests in the middle of the back, between the shoulder blades.

The metal is thin and its edges are covered with something like neoprene or a similar material not to dig in the skin.

Then there are the thighs' cuffs, already connected with a chain, covered in plastic. I realize that maybe it is a system to dampen the rattle, but again it gives rigidity to the ensemble so that the thighs will not be able to touch.

Oh my god, just the thought of wearing this thing is intoxicating. It appears to be designed for long term use.

The side chains that connect to the belt are similarly sound-proofed, and also they have been made flat to be less cumbersome, and at the end they have a sort of plate that I imagine has to go between the two halves of the belt.

It is truly a work of art, and it is clearly stirring something in me.

I look at the clock waiting for the time to call up Jeff, then a crazy idea strikes me. As I loosen my towel, I pick up the bra. It is beautiful. I look at the breasts' dome and they are shaped mimicking a pair of tits, nipples included. They are designed to adhere to the chest and to block any access to any stimulation. In the bottom part of the cups, there are some tiny holes that I suspect would be used for drainage, in the case you shower or you have a sweat build up. This brought me to consider two things. First, there was some serious design on it, to take this problem into account. And second, again, someone is thinking that it is possible to wear this thing for a long amount of time, perhaps indefinitely.

Wow. I decide that I want to try it out and I proceed to place my head between the hinges that should rest on my shoulders. The rear band, connecting the nape of my neck to the rear chest bar, sits comfortable between my shoulder blades, exactly as I imagined. The whole contraption is padded with some black padding, neoprene or something. I stand up to go in front of the mirror to take a look at the locking mechanism. Where the rear part of the chest band meets the front, under my armpit, there is a ratchet that goes in a recess. It is something very similar to the handcuffs' mechanism that tightens as it closes. And also the keyhole is similar enough.

I'm getting way too excited to wait anymore, and I guide the ratchet into its recess.

Ratratratrat....click.

There is a moment of silence as I get the gist of what I have done. The size is perfect and I can feel the rigidity of the chest band constricting my breath. Mind you, it is not forcing me to take shallow little wisps of air, but nevertheless it is confining the expansion of my chest. Immediately, I try to reach for my breasts, I feel that my nipples are getting harder from excitement, and I really want to caress them and pinch them.

But, to my utter dismay, there is no way to get under the domes, neither from the sides, nor from the bottom.

Wow.

To take my attention from it, I return in front of the mirror. It is really a feat of engineering. It is shaped in a way that adheres to my curves. I bet that I can wear it under my clothes.

Question is: do I have the nerve? Will I?

So, I'm naked from bra down, and since now I want to show off for Jeff when he is going to call, I look at the belt.

As I move around the room, I can feel the weight of the bra on me, but it seems really well spread and balanced, after all.

I pick the belt and this also closes like the bra, at the sides. The waist belt is shaped to be high on the sides and low on the abdomen and on the back. As I read on the net, it seems that this shape gives more freedom and less constriction. And also it rests over the pubic bone.

There is a shield in front to cover my pussy and block any access, and in the back there is a steel cable, covered in plastic that goes between my butt cheeks, and two other cables that pass sideways, similar to the ones on the boxers' crotch protectors, if you have ever seen one of them. All three of them are connected to the crotch part between my legs.

As I had imagined before, the chains coming from the thighs's cuffs have to be inserted between the two halves of the waist section.

So, first I put my feet into the cuffs, and then guide them upward over my knees, until they are too tight for my legs. I notice that these are also padded for comfort.

As I try to put on the belt, I see that my legs cannot spread enough to let the front part of the thing pass through.

I solve the problem by turning the belt sideways and maneuvering it until the hinge between the front and the rear is exactly under my crotch.

Then I push the rear part on me with my left hand, while my right gets the chains, makes sure that they are flat and then put them around the ratchets. First one and then the other. As I put them in place, the cuffs are being pushed upward and the cable between them positions itself like a wedge between my upper legs. As I noted before, it is stiff enough to keep my knees from touching, spreading them four inches apart, more or less.

Well, moment of truth. Jeff has for sure sent my measurements to this Markus guy, since the bra is so comfy and of the right size for my body. Let's see if he has done a good job with the belt, too.

The now familiar clicking noises fill the room, once again followed by my stupefied silence.

I stand in front of the mirror for the third time.

As I look at my own face, I record an expression of utter surprise and amazement.

Here I am, like so many women I have seen online.

There is weight on me, I can feel it, but I can move. I get a weird gait, since I am not accustomed to the restriction of the thigh cuffs,

I try to creep my fingers into the belt to get ahold of my already wet sex, but there is no space, I then try to reach it from below but I am not able to spread my legs enough to have any reach.

Is it a dream or a nightmare? Well, now it is a bit of both.

Just the time to show it to Jeff and then I will be ready to open these devices to roam my sex, thinking of these contraptions.

I am still savouring my orgasms to come as the phone rings.

It is Jeff, it is a video call.

I rush to get myself again in the towel, not wanting to spoil a surprise, and once I feel covered enough, I accept the call.

"Hi, dear."

He comes up to my phone with a happy smile. Yet it was the grin of the Cheshire Cat.

"Is there something you want to discuss with me?"

"You are an idiot."

"Tara, you do not like those things. Is it?"

"No it is not that. I think you should just have told me that you wanted to buy them. So, I could take part..."

"I'm sorry, I got this contact from a friend of mine. Markus is a very talented metalworker.... He is very specialised in this kind of stuff. But if you do not like it..."

"No, Jeff, it is not that..."

"So, what is the matter then.... Are they too heavy to ship on a plane? Please tell me."

"No, they are absolutely beautiful. Works of art, trust me...."

Then I put the phone down near the mirror on a little table so that he can see my whole figure.

"Yet I think, Jeff, that you got all the measures right."

With that I stand on my feet and leave the towel to fall on the floor, showing my setup.

There is a moment of silence and after that I can hear a voice over the phone, speaking a notch too high from excitement.

"Oh, my God."

And there again silence. I can see his open mouth on the phone screen, his eyes are darting from side to side catching every detail of the belt, of the bra and the cuffs....

"Please, Jeff, say something...."

He stutters before starting to talk.

"It's really beautiful, Tara. I really want to be there with you..... I did not imagine that you would put it on yourself... there.... I trusted you.."

"So what is the problem?"

"Well, how does it fit? From here it seems perfect. Are you uncomfortable? Are you in any pain?"

"No, you idiot. It is great. It feels wonderful. It is so good and unforgiving. I feel trapped, yet liberated."

On the phone Jeff's expression shifted from apprehension to excitement.

"Well, if it is so fitting, I'm very relieved, because we have a problem."

"What problem?"

"A problem that could have caused damages and finally hurt you. But we have been very lucky, it is only a minor problem."

"Please, what are you talking about? You are frightening me. Is it something important?"

"Yes. Do you have the box there with you?"

"The cardboard box?"

"Yes, that one. Look into it."

I start to search into the box, shifting the bubble wrap on the bottom, and I find nothing on the floor of it.

"What should I look for?"

"Try to imagine, Tara, try." There is a different tone in his voice. He is sort of mocking me.

In my mind, I'm enumerating what there should be in this damned package. Belt, bra, cuffs, chains, keys.

Keys!

KEYS!

My eyes return to the phone, and he is smiling, then he brings some keys on a keychain into the camera's view.

"Looking for these?"

Now it is my turn to turn silent. I'm still not computing all the implications, and as I open my mouth to speak, nothing comes off.

"Well, it was a bet between me and Markus. He told me that you would be so enthusiastic about these things that you would put them on without checking for the keys. So he sent the set to you and the keys to me."

I can not put into words what I want to say.

"Well, I said him that you are not a sex crazed nimph, and that you would analyze the whole thing and that you would talk with me before dealing with the chastity set. Apparently, I was wrong."

I finally manage to get some words out, blurting.

"I'm sorry. I was just trying to surprise you."

"Well, you did. And you are beautiful in them. Really. But from now on, our relationship has to change. I think that you have to understand that I have the monopoly on your sex."

Without thinking, I respond.

"Yes, master."

I can not believe what is happening to me. How the belt has changed me.

"That's better. Ok, sleep tight, my love."

And he shuts down the call.

In the loneliness of my room, I try to budge free of the belt, but even if I force it down my hips, it does not move an inch.

In the clutches of desperation I cry myself to sleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night, on the floor, with all the things still locked on.

There is still no clarity in my thoughts, but then I realize that the keyholes were not so different from the ones on the cuffs, so I dart to the fridge to grab the keys.

There I find them still frozen in a block of ice and immediately put them in the sink under some water to help the ice to thaw.

I have no idea how long it takes but in the end, the hole is similar but not compatible, and this escamotage fails before even starting.

Desperation takes hold of my heart. I'm on the other side of the country, in two days I will have to take a plane to return home.

And this brings me other troubles, case in point, the security check. How can I pass a metal detector with these things locked on me?

And, tomorrow morning, later, I have to meet some clients. O my God, I'm royally screwed.

And yet I feel excited as hell. My right hand immediately runs to my own crotch to find my pleasure button, just to be stopped by the unforgiving metal barrier.

On edge, without means to release. Hell and damnation. Absolutely, hell and damnation. And pleasure.

What the hell can I do? What the hell will I do? It's a real big trouble.

How the fuck can I attend a professional meeting when my attention is focused on my clitoris, which is out of reach?

Do I have a choice? Absolutely no choice.

I start to hyperventilate, a panic attack is mounting in me, I slowly return to the bed where I find some kind of relief in moving my hips up and down while clutching the front of the belt.

I come back from this arousal, still unsatisfied, but relaxed enough to think somewhat straight about the situation I am stuck in.

First, I think about outfits I can wear with all of this. This excludes pants of any sort and shape, no see-through blouses, and over the knee shirts.

Lucky for me I had these in my baggage, enough to arrange a couple of outfits for the days ahead.

The airport question is still to be solved but there is still time, no use worrying about it now.

I realize that my body seems not willing to go to the bathroom. But it is time for me, belt or not.

Sitting on the toilet, I find that I can push the central rod to the sides to ease my business. For number one, the front shield seems to be shaped in a way to let it flow without being trapped. It is simple, and this helps me a lot.

Next I take a shower, and the water flows either down the bra cups and down the belt. The rest of the rinsing I do with the hair dryer.

It is a very awkward situation and I wonder if I'll have the guts to sit in front of my clients like this.

I have to, let's just hope I do not have to pass some metal detector on my way to the offices downtown.

Apart from the cuffs tugging on my thighs, fighting every step that is somewhat longer in stride than permitted by the chain, I find my pace outside of my room. And hopping in a taxi is very different, instead of entering feet first, thus spreading my legs, I had to lean with my ass first and then collect my legs together in the car.

It is definitely making me very conscious, I have passed nearly an hour in front of the mirror to be absolutely certain that no metal is visible under the clothes. I figure it forces me to wear very classical attire, no cleavages, no short skirts.

There is no need to say that, during the meetings, my mind starts to wander, and I discover that my hand slowly shifts under the table to find yet again the unyielding metal shield.

I have to continuously force my mind to keep track of the things they are saying at the table.

I would have preferred a lunch by myself, but instead I'm stuck in a high class restaurant, with one of my clients.

There are four of us at the table, the CEO, we can call him Mr. T, his secretary, Eileen, and his legal advisor, Sarah.

In the past, Sarah had the hotties for me, and she approached me during one of the parties. Before the pandemic, that's it, when we used to have parties.

On that occasion, I went along, since I did not think it was like cheating on Jeff, and I like to experiment, sometimes.

It was nothing too hard, some hard petting on a room in the back of the house we were in, and, as I was thinking of inviting her in my room later for something more serious, her CEO caught me trying to sneak out of the party, grabbed me by the arm and tackled me for the whole evening to talk about his future projects.

Then came the pandemic, and the idea to pursue this chance was put on hold, but not forgotten.

Apparently I'm not the only one to possess long term memory, and so, as I get up to use the restroom, I realize that she is following me.

Tall girl, athletic, red haired, I think she would be the perfect candidate for a threesome at our house with Jeff. But, this is not the time, not when I'm literally under lock and key.

Once I enter the bathroom, she is on me, pushing me to the wall and kissing me fiercely, not leaving the time to utter a single word. By instinct, I kiss her back, her smell filling my nostrils.

What the fuck am I doing? Why am I not pushing her away? Why am I enjoying this bitch?

Even my own reactions are so confusing, and I pull her closer to me, and she immediately stops.

I open my eyes to see her puzzled face.