Be My Concubine

February 14th this year will be our 5th anniversary. Jeremy is my enabler, my paramour, my true love, my fellow concubine. We are an unmarried cohabitating couple. I don't ever plan on marrying Jeremy. I may change my mind later, but for now, he is my only lover, my forever lover. He will always be my only and forever lover.

I look back on that Valentine's Day five years ago and smile at how it changed my life irrevocably. That smile is accompanied by a heat building in my nether region from the memory of our very first sexual adventure. It wasn't supposed to be, but ultimately, it was the genesis of a wildly fulfilling sex life between us.

It started with an invitation to a costume party for Valentine's Day. I'd never heard of a costume party to celebrate Valentine's Day before. Jeremy and I had been part-time confidants, not deep dark secret type confidants; but platonic co-conspirators to match make for our friends and sometimes navigate the vagaries of life. He invited me to the costume party since we were friends and he didn't have a heart's flame at the moment.

He invited me by handing me an unadorned piece of paper folded in quarters one day. My brow furrowed when he did this, but I was curious just the same. I opened it and it was simply a handwritten phrase, "Be My Concubine."

I looked askance at him, and said, "Don't you mean Valentine?"

He gave me a conspiratorial look and put a hushing finger against his lips, glancing left and right as if somebody might overhear. Somebody might of course, since we were in a publicly accessible location, but the number of bodies nearby could have safely been counted on one hand with half the fingers folded.

"Jeremy!" I hissed.

He grinned, his shit-eating grin, a familiar sight, but I wasn't sure I was in the mood for it at the moment.

"No, no, I was invited to a costume party, and I don't want to go by myself, and I don't want to go as a lame old box of chocolates like most everybody else or worse yet, as a desperate cupid caricature."

"Yeah, yeah, I get that, but will you at least tell me what the fuck you mean by this?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Fuck no! I don't exactly have your sense of the sublime Jer. Tell me right now or you can go by yourself!"

He relented, "Okay. I'm proposing a different costuming than the usual."

"Of course, d'uh!" I mocked.

"Well, a medieval merchant can't afford to get married, so he contracts with a concubine. I want you to go with me as my concubine."

My body language was set to enlighten me further because you aren't making yourself so clear yet, but an inkling was starting to form. I wasn't inclined to give in as of yet, though. I wanted to be convinced that his plan had merit. The iconoclastic nature of his proposal suggested possibilities though. Since we were sort of close friends, he knew this about me. It was my weakness, and he exploited it mercilessly.

"I have this costuming in mind... it's kind of risqué..."

"Jeremy, spit it out... what the fuck are you thinking?"

"Well, I've got the actual costume if you want to look it over..."

"That's awfully presumptuous. If I wasn't your friend..."

"Okay, look, see? This is what I was thinking about."

He showed me a costume. The top was a halter of sorts, but could be really modest due to the accompanying shawl and or tunic, whatever it was. But, the skirt was most definitely not. Judging by the look of it, the slit would come up to my navel.

It was most definitely not modest; by any definition of the word modest. How in the hell did Jeremy know about my most hidden desire to have my most private part of my body exposed for all the fucking the world to see? I hadn't even written that down in my diary.

Needless to say, I started squirming at the minutest hint that anybody, much less Jeremy, fathomed my most intimate desire of public humiliation. Fuck me! I quailed then that it might be visible to anybody at all that should happen to look upon me. It got me wet. I tried my best to hide it from my confidante. Did I succeed? Who the hell knew?

"I've got a chastity belt for you to wear underneath it."

Fuck you Jeremy. I love you Jeremy. Please fulfill my hidden desire you fucking magnificent bastard! I cringed, I came; I went through a gamut of emotions within a blink of the eye. I swallowed hard to complete my next sentence.

"Um... what?" and, damn it, I found myself acquiescing to the suggestion.

February 14th, and we walk into the party, Jeremy and I on his arm. The sweet fucking bastard whom I was starting to love explained our costuming to our hosts and everybody who would listen. My flowing skirt, split to my navel as I alluded to earlier, parted as I moved to expose my intimate portion of my anatomy ensconced in a chastity belt of stainless steel, shiny and pristine, emblazoned with Jeremy's adopted coat of arms.

I was collared with a 3 inch leather band. Attached were chains that cascaded across my breasts and trailed down to 3 inch leather bands fastened on my wrists and down to 3 inch leather bands fastened around my ankles.

I was so hot I was on the edge of cumming, and I practically whimpered as I walked through the menagerie of cupids and heart-shaped boxes of chocolates that comprised the majority of the costumes. I was deliriously happy and deliriously sexually excited at the prospect of the upcoming costume contest.

Jeremy was unaware that I had tampered with the chastity belt. I had rigged it to fail at the press of a button, and I held the remote control for it in my hot grasp. Sure, it was just a party. Sure, the exposure would be relatively limited. But the possibility of the public humiliation when my chastity belt fell off and exposed my dripping wet cunt for all... well that was what kept me going and ready.

I coasted through the party salutations and greetings in a haze of pre-orgasmic euphoria. I'm not sure I was coherent at all. Jeremy seemed to be covering for me, as far as I could tell. Then again, he might have actually caught on to my self humping, self-edging buildup to the night's exclusive competition. He didn't let on if he did.

When my moment on stage came, I came. My juices dripped around the chastity belt I wore, scant protection to my arousal. Supposed protection from penetrative sex, it was nothing next to my desire. I shuddered as I was introduced as a costume contestant. The shudder wasn't due to the excitement of the contest, of course.

I walked to center stage as I was supposed to. I paraded around as I was supposed to. I turned for my final display as I was supposed to, and blam! My chastity belt exploded and I hadn't even pressed the button I had rigged. I was shocked. I froze as the cameras clicked, my dripping wet pussy exposed for all at the party to see and gawk at. Jeremy, fucking magnificent bastard that he was had anticipated my actions and beat me to the punch!

My shame rushed upon my face and colored me from the crown of my head to the bottom of my rib cage! I was humiliated, I was crushed, and I gushed in my shame. I squirted buckets full in front of the shocked and bewildered faces of the crowd. And Jeremy smiled his knowing smile at me and I came again.