Charity McKenzie's girlfriend was late.
They had been in a relationship for a year - long enough for Charity to know that Blue Barclay was always on time. Punctuality was a key feature of Blue's personality. Her attention to detail was exquisite. It is what made Blue successful at her job. It made their shared home feel safe and familiar. It provided Charity the trust she needed to allow Blue to dominate her in the bedroom - to dominate her in their relationship.
Furthermore, tonight, of all nights, with all the anticipation, Charity knew that Blue would not be late unless something was seriously wrong.
And that made Charity worry.
She checked her phone again. She opened the FamTrack app which allowed Charity to see exactly where Blue was. Her icon did not appear on the map. Frantically, Charity zoomed out until even the outer suburbs of the city were displayed. Maybe Blue's phone had died.
The Clearwater Bar, where Charity sat at a table for two pressed against the wall, was the place where she had met Blue exactly one year ago. Charity had arrived more than ten minutes early, practically trembling with excitement and, more importantly, arousal. It had been 14 days since Blue had locked Charity into her chastity belt. And despite the effectiveness of the device, Charity couldn't help but surreptitiously press the heel of her palm against the crotch of her calf-length, boho sundress and feel the smooth surface of the cold, hard plate underneath that covered her heated sex.
But now, Blue was over twenty minutes late. Charity's arousal had morphed to anxiety.
Blue had acquired the chastity belt for Charity several months before. It fit in naturally with their lifestyle which was steeped in the practices of dominance and submission. Charity felt a nervous thrill every time Blue slid the device up her legs - the telescoping band of the waist belt would stretch over her hips and then naturally shrink back to greedily grasp her gentle curves. Once the belt was tightened and locked, the metal plate maintained a comfortable pressure over Charity's sex - a presence that lingered in her consciousness at all times. Every day felt like young love. The passage of every hour - both giddy and painful. Needless to say, Charity was particularly horny almost all of the time.
The belt was as sleek as a silk thong - perfectly matching Charity's curves, causing no encumbrance to her mobility. It was smooth and slippery and left no blemish or bruise. It fit well under clothes and cleanliness was easy to maintain.
Charity remembered clearly Blue's demonstration when she first introduced the belt. Blue opened the waistband up to a large circumference then quickly squeezed it back down like an accordion. "When I press the disk to the faceplate of the belt, there is no mechanical lock. Rather, it changes the speed at which the waistband can expand and contract. So, what I just did in seconds would take months or even years when the belt is activated. This will allow it to grow and contract with the wearer, always resulting in the perfect fit, but never in such a way as to suddenly become loose." The casual explanation had left Charity trembling in an apex of pleasurable erotic horror as she contemplated the implications. "Even if, many years from now, you were to grow fat..." Blue had joked, pulling Charity from her trance.
"You think I'm getting fat?!" Charity screamed. She delivered a sharp punch to her lover's shoulder.
"Never," Blue laughed.
But the horrific, yet utterly erotic, thought that lingered in Charity's mind was that the time period of the application of the belt could be measured in years.
One particularly unique feature of the belt is that it was not just Charity's burden to bear. The disk key which controlled the expandability of the belt was attached to its own ring of telescoping metal which could be drawn over Charity's lover's head and settled tightly around her neck. Wearing the key, thus, Blue had to kneel before her chastened lover to engage the lock. And, there the key would remain dangling from the metal collar that Blue would have to wear until they chose to couple the devices once more and be free of the wonderful toys.
While Charity could hide her deviance, Blue had to wear hers for all to see. And she did so proudly. "It's a symbol of my love for Charity," she would tell friends and coworkers as they puzzled over how it could be removed, wrapping her arms around Charity and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Perfect and whole." Blue was bold and unburdened by any conception that her BDSM lifestyle was some sort of secret.
As perfect as the belt and key were, there was one huge drawback that limited the amount of time that Charity and her lover could play with them. The belt drove Charity's arousal through the roof. Logic might suggest that the lack of access to her lady-parts would tend to shelve Charity's libido. The actual result of wearing the belt, however, was nothing like that at all. Charity found her arousal would swell, each succeeding day more than before. Her engagement with the world around her slowly turned more to an erotic dreamscape filled with flittering distractions.
The longer she wore the belt, the more often Charity discovered herself unconsciously engaging in subtle acts of physical stimulation. Sometimes the acts were as simple as combing her fingers through her hair, pulling on her earrings or her lips, stroking her waist and abdomen. Sometimes the acts were even more overt - like cupping her breasts or rocking her legs open and closed, flexing her thighs together.
One day she even broke free from her reverie to discover that her hand was stroking her inner thighs, shielded from view by only a pad of paper meant to be used for taking notes. She had no recollection of the past ten minutes of her psychiatric patient's discourse.
