There are people who enjoy wearing chastity belts, but I was not one. I had never worn one, nor even dreamt of doing so. My idea of extreme bondage was the drawer full of handcuffs of various qualities, mostly Valentine's Day gifts from past boyfriends. I don't know if it was pure coincidence or whether there's just something about me that people want to tie down.
But chastity belts? No way. Too fucking weird.
So, waking up to find myself naked save for a pair of stripper heels and a chastity belt, and with no memory of how or why, was terrifying. I was lying on my front in long grass, in the dark, no sign of civilisation immediately visible.
My last clear memory was of Sam and I relaxing in front of the TV with a glass of wine after a well spent afternoon of fucking - no love there; we were both in our own ways getting revenge on Jessica - and... nothing. I don't remember being tired, I certainly wasn't drunk, we weren't doing drugs...
Or were we? Had Jessica been there? Hiding. Watching us. Waiting to take her own cruel and carefully planned revenge on me... something in the wine... Had she done anything else to me?
I shuddered.
There was something else. A tickling, tingling vibration within the folds of my imprisoned pussy. Gentle yet persistent. Try as I might, my fingers could not penetrate through or around the shield that covered my pussy. The belt was steel, I think, lined with some kind of silicone. Tight, but not uncomfortable. Perforated at the front to let me pee, an open ring around my ass to let me do the other.
This was not naughty lingerie for amateurs. This was a serious chastity belt. Jessica was determined to make me suffer. She wanted public humiliation. 'Bitch!' I hissed. 'Fucking bitch!'
I forced myself to my feet - I was suddenly so dizzy I nearly fell - and discovered where she had left me.
The city where I live has a large park in the centre, dotted with playgrounds and gardens, a small outdoors theatre. A small river meanders through, becoming a boating lake in one place, and there are two major pathways, both lit by streetlights, one following the east-west flow of the river, the other cutting across from north to south.
In the northwest corner, overlooking the High Street to the north and the railway station to the west, is a hill. Not a very high one, by any stretch of the imagination, but high enough to provide a clear view across the city. I had been left at the summit of that hill - only a few metres from the now empty car park, but Jessica must have had someone helping to carry me.
One hand drifted absently to my crotch, fingers struggling to scratch the itching vibration that was kindling the fire of my desire. Already my nipples were hard, whether from the cool air or the unwanted stimulation I don't know.
It was a midsummer night, a little cool but windless, and cloudless, no hint of daylight, only the bright stars and a moon high in the sky that would be full in a day or two. It was sure to get colder during the night, but there was light enough for me to find my way in the dark.
Light enough also for curious boys and dirty old men with misdirected telescopes, and bitchy Jessicas with binoculars, to see me there standing practically naked on the hilltop.
The city centre looked alive and busy, full of drunken Saturday night crowds. The chances of not only being seen but abused were too high to contemplate. West past the railway station was the red light district; I would be a fool to seek help there. The southern edge of the park was closest, and maybe I could knock on random doors and beg for help, until someone took pity on - or advantage of - the kinky naked girl waking them up in the middle of the night.
I sighed. My own home was a mile beyond the eastern edge of the park. The park and the streets beyond were quiet, but not dead. The chances of being seen were high. But what other choice did I have? Jessica's evil plan was just too good.
Maybe if I got lucky I would find some clothes or a blanket or sheet or something that I could 'borrow' from someone's back garden.
For the first time in my life, I wished there were more trees in the park. There were clumps here and there, notorious as places of secret assignation. Once, as teenagers, my then-boyfriend and I had interrupted our walk home through the park with some hot, wild sex in amongst the trees. Not until afterwards, as we were laughing about it and fixing our clothes, did we realise that we had been watched, maybe the whole time, by a pair of men who were not ashamed to be seen wanking over what they had just witnessed.
I've never understood Britain's dogging culture.
There was no point walking across the park in stilettos. I stripped out of my stripper heels and carried them as I descended the hill into deeper shadows. I wondered where Jessica was, whether she was watching, perhaps even following, no doubt hoping that I would be seen, and worse.
Was sex even possible in a chastity belt? Certainly no one would be penetrating my pussy, but I was uncomfortably aware of the ring giving access to my ass. Wide enough to slip two fingers through. A slender cock would not be denied. I was still tender there, Sam having given my ass a good, thorough fucking with his beautiful cock that would be far too thick to penetrate the belt I wore now.
The rest of me was completely vulnerable. I kept myself fit, mainly through jogging and swimming, but I knew nothing of martial arts. I was far better at running away from danger than confronting it.
The vibrations were driving me crazy. As I threaded through the shadow and the short grass, parallel to the east-west path, the itch between my thighs built to an aching frustration. The perforations glistened with moisture. My fingertips were wet with evidence of my arousal. My nipples had never been so hard, so demanding of attention. At one point I collapsed to my knees and gave in to that need, mauling my breasts and pinching my nipples in a desperate quest for relief. None was forthcoming.
I tried breaking the padlocks, even tried hitting them with a rock, but they stubbornly resisted my attacks. I tried several times to force the belt over my hips, but it was too tight, too unyielding.