Fiction: Barely There - Chapter 4

Note:  My god, has it really been a year since I started this?!?  Well, the good news is that I've outlined the rest of the "story".  Ok, "book" might be a better word. Jeez.  Hopefully it won't be a year in coming to finish this thing!  As often happens, a little concept in my head turned into its own little universe.   - Enjoy.  mikecb

Chapter 4

Jeff stood in his bathroom, somewhat in shock. Four hours ago, he had no girlfriend and no prospects. That had changed in a way he could never have expected!

Kelly was beaming a smile, as she turned and stepped out of the bathroom carrying the key to his chastity tube. Her blouse was still unbuttoned, barely covering her bra and panties. Jeff was puzzled, as he saw the back of her panties. She was a race fan, and discovered she was wearing Nascar socks, as they disrobed, so eagerly an hour ago, for their lunch hour tryst. Now, the back of her panties had him curious.

“Why do you have tire tracks on your ass?” he asked, with a grin.

Kelly turned and grinned. “What, you don’t like my skid marks?”

Jeff stared blankly, obviously not getting the joke. Kelly sighed, and continued to get dressed. “You’ve got a lot to learn, if you’re going to date a redneck!”

“Apparently!” he said, still befuddled.

They dressed quickly, as their quick lunch had turned into an unexpected romp in the sack, and Kelly was late getting back to her shop. They chatted amicably as he drove her back to work. It was nearly 2:00 PM when they arrived. Fortunately her next appointment was at 3:00, so she probably didn’t miss any business. Still, she didn’t like to miss walk-in opportunities.

As he pulled t in front of the store, they had an awkward pause. They were suddenly “a couple”, it seemed. They were both a little shell shocked. Jeff went around to the passenger side to help Kelly down from the truck. As she turned to get down, he stopped her with his hand on her thigh.

“Oh, I should get your number. I mean… all I have is the shop.”

“Oh, Jeez. Ya!”

Kelly gave her Cell number, as Jeff keyed it directly into his own. Kelly had his number in her appointment book, but she pulled out her phone, and entered his there as well. That done, Jeff eased her down from the passenger seat. They paused, awkwardly, again. Kelly was standing beside the truck, her tiny frame dwarfed by its enormous size. Her shoulders were at the seat level.

Kelly began. “Jeff, I’m…. I’ve never done anything like this. I mean, it was great and all, but…”

“Trust me, I haven’t either. It’s all kind of… sudden, huh?”

“Yea,” Kelly said, reaching into her pocket. She held the key to his chastity tube in her palm. “I don’t think I should be taking this. I mean, what if this just… if we don’t..”

Jeff smiled, gently, and took her hand in his. He closed her hand around the key. “I don’t know.” he said, “Maybe this was just a nooner, and we’ll both come to our senses… but… I kind of hope not.”

Kelly smiled, nervously.

“Look. Just hold onto it. No biggie. If our feelings change, you can always get it back to me. No harm, no foul. It’s just… I want you to know that I’m really serious. I… I really like you, Kelly. This wasn’t just a fling for me.”

Kelly’s smile brightened. “It wasn’t for me, either Jeff. I like you too. It’s just never happened to me this way before.”

Jeff smiled, knowing exactly how she felt.

Just then, another car pulled into the parking lot, in front of Barely There. Kelly looked over, anxiously.

“Look, you get back to work. I’ve got some things I’ve got to do this afternoon, too. I’ll call you, OK?”

“Deal!” she said with a smile, and went up on tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek.

Before Jeff could even respond, she was running over toward the store. waving. “Hey Dawn, I’m here! Don’t go ‘way!” she shouted.

End Chapter 4

Vignette: The Key

I see her at the sandwich shop quite often, and I can never take my eyes off her.  Her presence is commanding.  In business attire, she is always professional, yet feminine.  She usually wears a business suit and skirt, or a blouse and slacks on Fridays.   I assume her office has a “Casual Friday” policy.    Her penchant for black is undeniable, as is her willingness to feature her amble bosom prominently in any outfit she chooses.  Her makeup, always flawless, further demonstrates that she is a woman and wants everyone to know it.

She enters alone, as usual, and orders her lunch.  We have never been introduced, yet I could place her order myself, if asked.  A garden salad with broiled Teriyaki chicken strips, a cup of the soup of the day, and a bottle of lemon-lime flavored water.  She is dependable.

When she is in the room, my eyes are drawn like a moth to flame.  The pull is unrelenting.  It’s not her piercing gaze, her perfectly formed features, or even her voluptuous body.  It’s something odd, really.  It’s the key. 

She wears a key around her neck, on a plain gold chain.  It dangles, just above her perfect cleavage.  It’s always there, no matter the outfit.  I can’t take my eyes off it.  She began wearing it about six months ago.  It’s been there ever since.

It’s not some tiny little decorative gold thing.  It’s a real key.  It would fit a cylindrical lock.  Not a big one, like on a Kryptonite bike lock.  It’s smaller around, built for a smaller lock.  It seems exactly the same size as the key to my chastity tube, for example.

I’m glad she was looking the other way when I first saw it, those months ago.  My shock was, no doubt, comically evident.  I managed to compose my face before she glanced my way.  Then, as now, she saw right through me.  I don’t exist in her mysterious world.  Invisible.  I might as well be a piece of furniture

. 

The shop is crowded, today.  She sits at the table directly across from mine, as I eat my ham sandwich and read my book.   She sets her water bottle down and waits for her meal to be brought to her table.  My cock throbs, uncontrollably, in its stainless steel prison.   Without a girlfriend, and without prospects, I still lock myself up.  It’s just something I need.  The key is at home, now, though, sometimes I mail it to myself, or leave it in my office desk for the weekend.  I long for the day when some woman might take control.  For now, I lock myself.  This time around, it’s been just over two weeks.

As I sit eating my sandwich, trying not to stare, I hear her phone ring.  The ring tone has a distinctive sound.  It’s from a Warner Brother’s cartoon.  I hear Porky Pig saying “Ba-be, ba-be, ba-be, that’s all folks!”   The phone rings a few times.  She ignores it, reading the paper, still waiting for her salad.

A moment later, it rings again.  “Ba-be, ba-be..”  She snatches it from her table, and answers angrily “What?”

I’m stunned, though I don’t look up from the Stephen King novel I’m pretending to read nearby.  I’ve never heard her speak in that tone before.

She listens a moment, then asks, sarcastically, “Well, you gave it to me, didn’t you?”  She waits again as the person on the other end speaks.  

I hazard a glance in her direction.  The newspaper in her hand is ignored.  She’s staring off into space out the window, a devilish grin on her face.  She listens to the phone for a moment, and glances at her fingernails, telegraphing her disinterest in whatever answer she’s receiving. 

A moment later, the grin turns to a frown.  She interjects.  “Hey, now listen Bucko!  I dumped you because of those emails I found on your computer.  It’s clear you wanted out, and I gave it to you. “ She paused to draw a breath.  I saw a little flush coming to her cheeks, as she appeared to hear the caller arguing. “Silence!” she barked, in a loud whisper.  Her eyes flared with anger.  “I was going to put it in the mail to you this afternoon, but since you’re being such a prick right now, I’ve reconsidered!”

My gaze was riveted on her.  It must have been obvious, as she turned away from the window, sensing my attention.  She looked directly at me as she spoke.  I wanted to tear my attention away, but I couldn’t.  Our eyes were locked.  

Without lowering her voice, she continued.  “I’ve wasted five months of my life with you.   So here’s the deal.  In five months, I’ll send it back.”  Unconsciously, she reached up and took the key around her neck between her fingers and fondled it.  Her eyes remained on mine, but my eyes shifted, inexorably to the key.  She spoke clearly, knowing I heard every word.  “From now on, every time I hear your ring tone on my phone, I’m adding a month.  If I ever see you again, I’m tossing it in the river.”

With that, she hung up the phone, looking intently at me, as I stared at the key.  She held the phone in the air between us, and began smiling.  She waited, without speaking, expecting the inevitable.  “Ba-bee, ba-bee, ba-bee…..”.  

She punched the button, grinning, while still looking directly at me.  “Six months” she said, distractedly, and hung up again.  She set the phone on the table, this time, not expecting another call.  “He’s really not very bright.”  She said, addressing me this time.

My cock was straining hard in its cage, now, and my eyes were still riveted to the key.  After a moment of silence, I realized she had just spoken to me.

I jerked in my seat as if punched.  “Oh, sorry Ma’am” I muttered, noticing my voice was shaky.  “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”  I tore my eyes from the key, and looked back at the forgotten book in my hands.  I couldn’t seem to focus on the words.  My face flushed with a cross of embarrassment and arousal.  I tried, unsuccessfully, to read for a few seconds.

I sensed her eyes still boring into me.  I glanced up.   She was still staring, rubbing the key, absently, between her fingertips.  She was smiling, but her eyes….  So intense!  My heart fluttered.

The End

When the buzz becomes a din

I just made this comment on Twitter, but decided it needed elucidation. 

My chastity fetish goes back to pre-puberty, I think.  I've commented here, and in other forums, that I have recollections of binding my genitals with masking tape and cloth, even as a young boy.  There was always something enticing about that confinement.

My fetish is always with me.  It remains my principal fantasy when masturbating, and thoughts of chastity cross my mind every single time I bathe or use the bathroom.  Still, the "level" at which the fetish pervades my thinking changes over time.    As many noticed, my blog was really active for a while.  I couldn't write fiction fast enough to keep up with all of my fantasies.  Then, as if the brakes were slammed on, the thrill diminished.  It never left, but it just no longer dominated.

Well, the steady buzz that this fetish makes in my psyche seems to have amplified to a cacophony once again.  I wrote a little vignette the other day, and I have most of the remainder of my unfinished "Barely There" series mapped out in my head.  I also have a few other vignettes screaming to come out.

Meanwhile, I troll fetlife, tumblr, and chastity belt vendor sites, devouring images like I'm half-starved for their sustenance. 

I like my fetish, and I'm happy when the din of its presence overwhelms me.

Vignette: The Calendar

To say I was horny would be an understatement.  We were well into record territory, now.  Sara had locked me into my Jailbird chastity device on April 4th, nearly two full months ago.  Since then, I had endured near constant teasing and denial.  While I hadn't experienced any orgasms in all this time, Sara had been more horny than I could remember in our 4 years together.  She was insatiable, and I did my best to please her with hand and tongue, though of course, never with my desperate cock.

I had asked for this.  At first she thought it was strange, but she was game to humor me.  She soon became quite comfortable with my cock being locked when she wasn't using it.  It took a while, but she eventually even overcame the guilt of having sex without me coming to climax.  It took continued reassurance to prove to her that I craved denial even more than the orgasms.

In our late twenties and in love, sex was frequent, but now with this new twist.  We built up the durations of my lock-ups, and over time, we were going a few weeks between my orgasms.   She noticed how excited I would get as milestones approached.  One week.  Two weeks.  Three weeks.  She came to share my excitement, and even took charge.

"I think it's time to try for two full months", she said, after weekend-long love fest.  I had been locked for six weeks previous.  We had spent the entire weekend, making love and enjoying each other's bodies.  We were both sated, and lying naked in each others arms.

I began to object.  "Honey, that's a long..."

I was betrayed by my cock.  Even though we had made love four times, on that lazy Sunday, my cock began to throb and lift from my abdomen.

"You were about to say something about how that doesn't sound fun?" she said, grinning, and glancing down at my cock.  She crawled down the bed and took me into her mouth.  My body was already spent, so it took a long time.  We both enjoyed every moment.

That was five and a half long weeks ago.  Now, my blood was boiling for release.  Though Sara had not gone without, she was horny too.  For the last week, she constantly rubbed against me, stroked my cock, and even grabbed my cage through my pants.

We were having a quick breakfast, Tuesday morning, as we readied for work.  Sara tore the "May" page off the monthly calendar she kept on our kitchen wall.  She liked to mark all our appointments and things to remember on it.  I was astonished to see she had put a large star on Friday, our two month mark, and had even drawn huge arrows pointing toward it.  Anyone in the kitchen would easily see it, and wonder what the event might be!

"Um, honey.  Isn't that a little....uhh..."
"What, sweetie?" she asked, as she grabbed a few things out of the fridge that we'd each take to work for lunch.
"It's just that..  Well, you know Rob and Candy come over ever Wednesday night to play cards.  What if they ask about it?

She finished putting a few tupperware containers in my briefcase, and closed it.  She turned and stepped face to face with me.  I had to move my coffee cup to one side as she pressed her chest to mine and looked up in my eyes.

"I'll tell them that Friday's the night I'm unlocking your chastity belt, and letting you cum for the first time in two months...  That is, unless you want me to take it off the calendar?"  She fluttered her eyelids, charmingly.

Suddenly, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, and my mouth went dry.  At the same time, my Jailbird suddenly became uncomfortably tight.  I winced.

Sara noticed, and grabbed my cage right through my pants.  She could feel my stiffness, even through my clothes and the Jailbird.

"Uh huh." she said, smiling.  She reached up, and gently kissed my lips.  "Have a nice day at work, Honey.  Gotta run or I'll be late for my 9:00 meeting!"

With that, she turned, grabbed her bag, and strode from the kitchen, not looking back.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the kitchen door, still holding my coffee cup. I heard her car start a moment later.   I felt the pre-cum growing gooey in my underwear. 

The end