Chastity Is Seductive

Mrs Darcy was an imposing woman, beautiful and elegant, but strict and unsmiling. Dark hair and dark eyes. A hint of Irish in her accent at times. I had never met her before, but I recognised her from the TV. She had a recurring role as the vengeful ex-wife of the hero of a long-running period drama. She never smiled there either.

She was standing behind me - for how long, I don't know - watching as I laboriously copy-and-pasted numbers between spreadsheets. "My husband tells me," she said, the shock of her voice making me jump in my seat, "that you wear a chastity belt."

I looked round and up at her. Had he also told her how I had sucked his cock? He had said she liked to torture his lovers, and although I didn't think I was one, did Mrs Darcy have her vengeful mind set on me? Her character had done some awful things as well, and it was difficult to separate truth from fiction.

My heart was hammering. "Yes, Mrs Darcy," I said quietly.

"I should very much like to see it sometime." She glanced at her phone. "Please come with me."

I followed her to her husband's office. There was no sign of Emily, Mr Darcy's secretary. Pausing just outside the door, she put her finger to her lips to warn me to be quiet. I nodded, but Mrs Darcy's attention was on her phone.

We waited three, four minutes, and I didn't dare speak. I looked across the office at Rach and raised a querying eyebrow, but she shrugged a shrug of genuine bafflement.

The phone chimed softly and Mrs Darcy dropped it into her handbag. Without hesitation, she thrust open the heavy wooden door and strode into the office. I followed close on her heels.

Mr Darcy stood in the middle of the room, showing no surprise at our sudden uninvited entrance. Emily gave a cry of fear and pulled away frantically from the long, hard cock that her lips had been so lovingly wrapped around.

This proved to be a messy error, since the cock in question was hurling streams of pearly cum at her, splashing her face and shirt as she struggled to her feet. I have never seen anyone turn quite so red quite so quickly. Part of me envied her the humiliation of the moment. Certainly the fire in my loins that never entirely died out these days roared to a sudden feverish intensity, and my hips twitched involuntarily.

Emily looked at Mrs Darcy, frozen in horror, seemingly unaware of the cum glazing her cheek.

"Whatever are you doing with my husband?" Mrs Darcy said, as if it wasn't patently obvious.

"I-I-" was all the poor girl managed.

Mrs Darcy turned to me. "Get security. Have them throw this whore out onto the street, where she belongs."

"No!" she wailed. "Please! I'm sorry! I won't do it again!"

"Again?" Mrs Darcy walked to her and ran a finger across the cum-stained cheek. "How many times have you given him your mouth? How many times your pussy? Your ass? As soon as I leave here you'll be begging him for more."

"No!"

"No? I'll need more from you than empty words. For starters, I want a written apology. By tonight. Delivered into my waiting hand. I want you to tell me everything you've done to my husband - and I will be asking him too, so don't dare leave anything out - and I expect you to suggest a suitable punishment.

"Or you can quit this job. As a major shareholder, I can make your life a living hell if you don't. Now get out of my husband's office, slut."

"Yes, Mrs Darcy," she whispered, and practically ran to the door.

As soon as Emily was gone and the door closed, Mrs Darcy shared a smile of genuine warmth and humour with her husband. It transformed her instantly from a terrifying witch into a loving wife. "Put that away, honey, or do you want me to do something about it?"

Mr Darcy's cock was still jutting from his open zip, hard and ready for action despite its recent eruption. "I was hoping you would."

She sighed melodramatically. To me she said, "Perhaps you can go help Emily think of a suitable punishment?"

I nodded and smiled. "Yes, Mrs Darcy."

*

Emily was a pretty girl, cheerful and innocent, with long blonde hair and pale blue eyes. The office gossips called her a Barbie doll, and everyone could see she was madly in love with Mr Darcy, a man twice her age. Everyone in the office, at some point or other, had warned her not to fall for him, but when has that ever worked.

She wasn't at her desk. I discovered her eventually in the bathroom, locked in a stall and sobbing her heart out. "Emily?"

"Go away!"

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to help you."

"I don't want your help."

"I understand how you feel."

"No, you don't."

"Two months ago, I was drugged and dumped naked in the park in the middle of the night."

She stayed silent this time. I waited. After a while, she asked, "What did you do?"

"Stayed in the shadows, hid in doorways, made my way home eventually."

"Without being seen?"

"Oh, I was seen, all right. I was desperate for a pee, so I hid between two cars and squatted over a drain. Suddenly there was a light behind me and an old lady threatening to call the police."

She giggled. "What did you do?"

"I ran. As fast and far as I could. I'd never been so embarrassed in my life."

She was silent again for a long time, then the door lock clicked and she peered round the edge. "Can you get my handbag, please? It's on my desk."

I nodded. A minute later I was back with it. She was standing in front of the mirror, wiping away mascara stains and smeared lipstick with tissue paper. There were wet spots on her shirt where she had cleaned away Mr Darcy's cum. She brushed a tear away and looked at me with a blend of fear and gratitude. "You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"My lips are sealed."

She almost smiled, but it gave way to a frown. "Who drugged you? What happened? Were you..."

"No." At least not in the way she meant. "It was a girl I know. We've been fighting each other for years. But we seem to have reached an understanding."

I watched quietly as she reapplied her make-up, quickly and professionally, until there was no evidence of the distraught creature that had been hiding in the stall. "I don't want to lose my job," she said.

I could have reassured her, told her that her job was not really at risk. That Mrs Darcy's words were merely words, spoken with the conviction of a trained actress but lacking any real weight. But I wasn't sure it was true, and anyway I was curious to see how far we could push Emily. "It's nearly twelve," I said. "Join me for lunch, and I'll help you draft that apology."

Her cheeks reddened and she looked away, momentarily flustered. Then, closing her eyes and taking a breath, she said, calmly, "Okay."

*

As confessions go, Emily's was tame to the point of tedium. Multiple blow jobs, sex in Mr Darcy's office, sex on the conference table, sex in the stationery closet. I did my best to elicit details of positions and locations. When I asked about anal sex her denial was emphatic, her expression disgusted. When I asked whether Mr Darcy had ever 'fucked her tits', she turned bright red and squeaked, "Once." Where? I demanded. "In his hotel room. Last month at the trade fair." Did he come all over them? "Yes."

"The problem," I said afterwards, trying very hard to keep a serious expression, "is that Mr Darcy has grown very familiar with your pussy. Even I don't think you have the strength of will to refuse him, so why on Earth would Mrs Darcy trust you to work in the same building? Let alone as his personal assistant."

Emily was crestfallen, once again on the edge of tears. "But what am I supposed to do? I -" She fell silent. After a few seconds, she whispered, "I love him."

I leaned back, adopting a thoughtful look. "You could..." I shook my head. "No."

She looked at me with sudden optimism. "What?"

"No, it's a stupid idea."

"Tell me!"

I sighed. "Well, Mrs Darcy did say you should suggest a suitable punishment, so maybe..." I shrugged awkwardly.

"Tell me!" she demanded again.

I held my hands up in surrender, and hoped I wasn't overacting. Sitting at a neighbouring table, just behind Emily, Rach and Martin had been eavesdropping blatantly. It was a struggle not to look at them all the time, a struggle to keep a straight face when Rach smirked or rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You could," I said, my voice low and quiet, "wear a chastity belt."

"Huh?"

"Oh, I don't mean one of those evil contraptions from the Middle Ages. There are modern ones that are very comfortable. That way Mrs Darcy would be sure, at least, that her husband wasn't fucking your pussy."

Emily squirmed in her seat. "I don't think I could wear something so horrible. And what would people say if I did?"

"Come with me," I said, and led the way to the same accessible loo that Rach and I used for our lunchtime encounters.

Emily followed hesitantly. Two women sneaking into a loo together suggested an intimacy she was uncomfortable with. Especially when the door is locked and one of the women starts to disrobe.

But once my trousers dropped about my knees, and I peeled away the absorbent pad to reveal the metal shield over my pussy, her uneasiness gave way instantly to astonishment. I lifted my shirt and vest to let her see the belt in all its confining glory.

"Holy shit," she whispered. "Do you wear this all the time?"

"Pretty much twenty-four seven for the past month. I take it off once a day to clean it, and to clean myself."

"And it's not uncomfortable?"

"It takes a little getting used to, I won't lie to you. But there are people who wear them for months at a time. The best thing about it is the way it drives your lover wild for you, either because he can't have you, or because only he can."

She frowned. "Do you think he would like it? Maybe he'll think it's ugly, or he'll chase other women instead."

I laughed. "You should have seen how hard he got last month when he saw this." I tapped my belt. "If I'd had the key with me, we'd have ended up fucking on his desk for hours. Trust me. Men love seeing their women in chastity belts."

She glared at me, not liking at all the idea of Mr Darcy fucking me. Several times she started to say something. She shook her head angrily. "I hate this. Why did she have to come today? His marriage is over. We were planning a weekend, in Paris. I've never been to Paris."

"Don't lose hope, Emily. Try it for a month. See how it goes. Even if you can't have normal sex, there are plenty of other ways to give each other pleasure."

She nodded, her eyes studying my belt. Chewing her lip thoughtfully, she asked, "Will you come with me tonight? I don't think I have the courage to go alone."

"Of course," I said. But as I dressed myself, I wondered whether it would be safer to stay as far away as possible from Mrs Darcy.

*

Mr and Mrs Darcy live in a large, Victorian, detached house that overlooks the park from the south. From outside the front door, it is just possible to see the hill where my chastity adventure began.

Emily looked terrified. We had come straight from work, stopping briefly at her flat so that she could change her clothes. She wore now a dark and rather formal dress, and flat shoes in contrast to my high stilettos. She clutched the envelope tightly in her left hand, and hesitated on the point of ringing the bell. I reached over her shoulder and pressed it for her.

A maid answered the door. We explained why we were there, and she led us through the house to a large living room. Mrs Darcy sat on a dark leather sofa, drinking tea and leafing through what looked like a film script. She didn't invite us to sit.

Mrs Darcy did not open the envelope, and seemed reluctant even to take it from Emily's outreached hand. "It would be difficult for me to get you fired," she said slowly, "but I want to. What I can do, and indeed what I have done, is arrange to get you a promotion. The salary would be higher, and the responsibilities greater, but you are qualified. It would be a good career move."

Emily frowned in thought, clearly tempted on some level. "Where?"

Mrs Darcy shrugged, as if the question was irrelevant and uninteresting. "Scotland. Somewhere. Aberdeen, I think. Alternatively, you could leave the company. I'm sure my husband would write you a glowing reference."

"Perhaps," I said, "you could read Emily's confession. She has a proposition for you."

Mrs Darcy sighed with irritation, but nodded. She read through the statement with care, her frown of displeasure deepening with each revelation. Once finished, she lowered it to her lap and sunk into deep thought, her stillness a stark contrast to Emily's fidgeting tension. After a minute, she sighed and looked up. "I can't stop my husband chasing after every little slut that flashes some tail, but the thought of you and your too-eager pussy perched all day, every day, outside his door..." She shuddered visibly, and Emily's flush of embarrassment deepened to the point I feared she would spontaneously combust. "Well, a chastity belt would set my mind at rest. That would be acceptable. Far from ideal, mind you."

She cocked her head slightly, as if an idea occurred suddenly, and she rang the bell beside her. Seconds later, the maid appeared in the doorway. "Yes, ma'am?"

"In the wardrobe in my bedroom, on the top shelf, I think, far left, there should be a blue box about the size of a jigsaw puzzle. Please bring it to me."

"Yes, ma'am," the maid said, and was quickly gone.

"My husband once accused me of having an affair," Mrs Darcy said to me. "He bought me a chastity belt and demanded that I wear it. Of course, the idea is completely absurd - although the affair was real enough. My co-star's understudy, fresh from the Academy and bursting with dramatic exuberance, was as passionate behind the scenes as his character was on the stage. What we simulated in rehearsals, we did for real once the curtains were drawn. Ahh, the passion of youth. Such vigour!"

Her eyes glittered with such excitement, and her expression softened with a hint of a smile. "Even if I could wear a belt undetected, which would be quite impossible with the intimacy of stage work, I wasn't about to give up what must one of life's greatest thrills: the pursuit of new love. I love my husband, but not enough to wear a chastity belt for him." She snorted gently. "I told him I would wear it, if he also wore one. There is something delicious about the idea of locking up a man's equipment so that he must beg permission from his wife to use it." She smiled wickedly. "Then I really wouldn't need to worry about silly creatures like this Emily. Let her steal his heart, but his cock belongs to me."

The maid reappeared, placed the box on the table in front of her mistress, and retreated from the room. Mrs Darcy sighed. "Of course, he had no more wish to wear one than I." She opened the box, and unfolded layers of tissue paper to reveal an adjustable steel chastity belt, one with two rubber-coated steel chains at the back. Clearly designed to guard the pussy but leave the ass fully accessible.

Mrs Darcy returned her attention to Emily. "My husband does not love you. You are a mere dalliance. With your pussy denied him, he'll soon lose interest. Be sensible and take the new job."

Emily shook her head emphatically, a sudden passing anger brightening her eyes for an instant. "No, Mrs Darcy. I'll stay where I am."

"As you wish. Please remove your clothes. All of them."

Emily cast a fearful look at me. Mrs Darcy sighed impatiently.

As if she had never been naked before, Emily stripped out of her dress and underwear, laying everything neatly on one of the chairs, and tried shyly to conceal her privates behind her hands.

Mrs Darcy passed me the box. "Please will you make sure the belt is adjusted properly for Emily."

She was making a huge assumption that I knew how to do that, but between knowledge of my own belt and genuine curiosity about this one, I was sure I could figure it out. "Yes, Mrs Darcy."

And in the end it was quite simple, although rather fussy, not helped by Emily squirming fearfully every time the belt touched her. She whimpered audibly whenever my hand or the belt passed between her legs. "This is a good belt," I told her. "It should be a lot more comfortable than mine. I'm actually quite envious."

Mrs Darcy, meanwhile, seemed to have lost all interest. She sat drinking her fruit tea and reading through the script, oblivious to Emily's whimpers and humiliation. Only once I had assembled and fit the belt to my satisfaction, so that it hugged Emily's waist firmly and cupped her pussy securely, did she show any interest. "You are determined to continue working for my husband?" she asked.

There were tears on Emily's cheeks, but she nodded.

After one final check, I locked the belt and gave the keys to Mrs Darcy. "You may get dressed now, Emily," she said. "Come back in a month and tell me whether you still want to work for him." She picked up the script again and continued reading.

I sat back and watched Emily, wondering how it would feel to wear that belt. I was surprised and a little guilty that we - the Darcys and I - had made this happen, that we had so thoroughly taken advantage of this girl's naïveté. Mostly I was in admiration of Mrs Darcy's performance, and was glad I was not the victim of her scheme.

Emily was a picture of misery, brushing fresh tears from her eyes as she dressed. The belt added a slight awkwardness to her movements, and her hands kept drifting towards her shielded pussy and jerking away. I understood. Having a barrier between you and the most intimate part of you takes time to get used to.

The thought of all she was about to go through stirred my own hunger. I moved behind her and whispered in her ear. "You look so sexy in that. The sight of you is going to keep Mr Darcy hard for hours. He may not be able to have your pussy, but I bet he'll want to fuck your mouth and your tits." My hands moved up as I spoke, until my fingertips were teasing the material over her nipples. I could feel their concealed hardness. "You're wearing the belt Mr Darcy bought for his wife. He wouldn't have chosen this one if he wasn't thinking about fucking her ass. Just as he will be thinking of fucking yours."

With a cry of denial, she tore herself away from me. "I won't do that," she hissed.

"I love it, myself," I murmured. "I love the feel of a hard cock in me. I would love to have Mr Darcy fucking my ass, filling me with his cum."

"Stop it!"

"Can you feel it yet?" I asked softly.

She frowned. "What?"

"The itch. The unscratchable itch. I'm sure you'll find ways to satisfy him, but how will he satisfy you?"

She glowered at me. "I'll survive."

"If the two of you don't stop all that whispering," Mrs Darcy said, without looking up from her reading, "I'll have my maid whip you."

"Sorry, Mrs Darcy," we chorused, and Emily hurriedly finished dressing.

*

Emily was subdued and irritable the whole way back to her flat. She kept trying to adjust the position of the chastity belt, but her dress made it difficult to do anything, and the belt itself had very little flexibility. "It takes time to get used to it," I said. My belt was a familiar presence for me, the firm grip of a lover. The tormenting vibrations of the short bus journey left me tense in a way I had grown to love. I wanted Emily to love it the same way.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to it," she growled. Inside her flat at last, she stripped immediately, down to bra and belt, to get a better look. She tried to force her fingers under the crotch plate, and even tried contorting her limbs in various ways while doing so. "My brother's boyfriend's a fireman. I bet he could cut me out of this fucking thing."

The idea horrified me. "Mrs Darcy would find out," I warned. "If you're serious about Mr Darcy, then you should give this a chance. In a few days' time, it won't seem so bad."