Mandatory Chastity University Pt 01

This story plays out in a very near future. Maybe just a year away, maybe a whole decade. So there will be certain liberties taken in regards to technological gadgets, societal advance and the political landscape, even if things like that are not the main focus but rather something that happens on the side-lines. The main focus here is clearly on male chastity. That means that traditional penetrative sex is not really taking the center-stage, even if it might happen. During this first part of this story no male chastity scene actually occurs, but in latter entries it will become central to everything. Other fetishes like CFNM, denial, humiliation and a focus on feet will be explored as well, with this first part probably most interesting to foot fetishists and those into light humiliation.

I believe that this story caters mostly to the fetishes of male subs who can see themselves as the protagonist. Everyone else is very welcome to read it and follow along the presented figments of imagination though! The start of the story will be fairly slow with lots of exposition to introduce (some of) the characters and the setting. I weaved some kink into all of that and hope that will tide you over until we get in the thick of it. I hope you enjoy what you see. Kind regards,

Lily

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As much as Bryson wanted to concentrate he found his eyes drifting away from the document he was reading, wandering over to his couch where Imogen sat with her feet clad in white ankle-socks up on the table, bobbing them to the beat he could faintly hear from the headphones she wore. They shared a similar taste in music so he'd often let her borrow his laptop when she was over to listen to some of the recent discoveries he made in his job at a vinyl record store. It didn't help his attention span that she wore a short black pleated skirt today, exposing most of her smooth, shapely legs, toned by her dancing lessons yet visibly soft. Since they were crossed at the ankle he couldn't really peek up her skirt, though the fabric of it dangled down the seat of the couch and allowed him to almost see the curve of her ass. He swallowed and tried to focus back on his reading only to feel his eyes wander up again after barely digesting a word or two.

Imogen was a stunning, very short 18 year old girl who often stressed that she was not

that

short at 5 feet and a quarter inch. That quarter inch was important to her and you could get yelled at for forgetting it. She was a brunette with pale skin and absolutely gorgeous, big eyes that were the kind of hazel that sometimes looked like green in the right light. She was slender and petite, her body shaped stunningly by her ballet classes. During her younger years she had dreamed of becoming a ballerina, but due to her height that wasn't really in the cards for her and it all just became a hobby she was still quite passionate about. And passion was a driving force in her life anyway. She was smarter than most people Bryson knew and applied herself with fervor whenever a new fascination grew within her. Currently she was all about politics and fell in love with that subject so much that she picked it as her major in college, which was about to start for the both of them in just a few days.

His relationship with her was complicated and pretty fluid. They knew each other from their early childhood on and shared a sand-box before either of them could speak. They went to the same school and only briefly lost contact when Bryson moved out of the country with his architect father for two years. Upon his return he found that Imogen had grown into a gorgeous girl who should be the dream of any boy if it wasn't for her almost intimidating intellect and her confidence that seemed to scare some guys off. Still, she tended to have boyfriends during her time in school, up until recently. Her ex had left for another college and they wanted to try out a long distance relationship, but earlier this summer when he rented a truck to move some of his stuff into his dorm he was tagged in some pictures on twitter that showed him making out with three different girls. A few phone calls later his relationship with Imogen had come to an end.

"Fuck it...", Bryson muttered. He flicked through the pages of the college code of conduct and the freshmen introduction that were sent to him a week ago and that he had carelessly tossed aside until Imogen reminded him that he had to sign them today before they headed to the campus for their sign-ups. He stopped whenever he found a dotted line for his signature and quickly scribbled it where it was demanded. When he lifted his eyes again Imogen squinted at him with a reproachful look.

"You

do

know you're supposed to read that before signing it, right?", she asked in a judgmental tone, having lifted the left pad of her headphones off her ear and against her temple to hear him. "There is some

really

important stuff in those documents."

Bryson grinned and tossed the stack of documents onto the table next to Imogen's feet. "How am I supposed to concentrate when you do this?", he complained as he followed the papers and sat down on the table, lifting Imogen's feet up into his lap where he started massaging them eagerly.

"Absolute degenerate...", Imogen just said with a head-shake and a chuckle. She gave him a deep, lingering look with a smirk curling up her lips and then ignored his affections, plopping the headphones back on fully and letting out a pleased sigh as her feet got massaged. Her own eyes wandered back to the screen of the laptop and she continued to browse through the site.

This was why their relationship was complicated. After Imogen's recent break-up she had come over to his place pretty much every day, at first often teary-eyed and sobbing, but soon seeking the distraction of movie nights or listening sessions with brand new albums or re-discovered classics. Bryson found himself attracted to her in a way that left him squirming in her presence and masturbating vigorously the moment she left for her home while her scent still lingered in his room.

After two weeks he couldn't take it any longer and admitted to her that he was into her. Imogen seemed receptive at first, kissing him softly and then letting their tongues caress, but when Bryson pulled back from that kiss she almost looked a little remorseful. She explained herself by saying that it was all too early after the last break-up, that she wasn't able to take another fling that ended in heart-break this year. Though she also said that once they attended the same university she would consider dating him. Until then they came up with a deal. Every time Bryson felt the need to make out with Imogen or to fuck her, he was supposed to come and massage her feet. She loved the feeling, and it gave them something secret which could even be done in public that still took on a very different meaning for the two of them.

Bryson got to feel intimately close to her in these moments, usually throbbing away in his pants, especially when she let one of these soft little whimpers slip from her lips if he did a particularly good job. Before this he wouldn't have considered himself someone into feet. Sure, he was turned on by girls in shorts or skirts showing off their legs, but it wasn't ever a major draw for his eye that superseded everything else. During the last few weeks though he could barely keep his eyes off Imogen's feet, always looking for an opportunity to massage her. And to him it seemed like she dressed for the occasions as well, putting on shorts and skirts whenever the temperature allowed for that and presenting him with poses that easily facilitated massages like this.

There was a difference between them though. While Imogen accepted those massages often quite casually, even ignoring him completely during these sometimes hour-long adventures, Bryson was delirious with lust and desire. And more than once he had excused himself to head to the bathroom for a quick alleviation of the numbing pressure making him twitch in his underwear. Afterwards Imogen often gave him a knowing smile, but she never made it awkward by saying anything.

He wasn't sure where he was at with her. They had talked about it of course, and it seemed like they were headed to be a couple. But so far she kept him at a distance and he hadn't even seen her naked. She had seen his dick one time when he offered in one of his foot-massage stupors to show her and to his surprise she had agreed to it. She gave it a quick glance and lifted one of her brows briefly, but then went back to reading her book. When he asked her if it was okay to touch himself she had replied without looking up: "If you can do that while still keeping the massage up, sure."

So he had touched himself with one hand while his other massaged her feet and within a minute he had achieved a climax that left him a little ashamed, making him blush as she smiled over the pages of her book at him, cooing: "Done already? Huh... I guess you can use both hands for the massage again? I'm nearly finished with my chapter."

So he kept massaging her while sitting in his own mess. With one hand there hadn't really been any option to catch his sudden, explosive load and so speckles of his cum had soaked into his pants and underwear, starting to cool down against the air. He felt bad about it. But at the same time his dick already got hard again before she put the book down and let him clean up. He didn't know what she did with him, why she kept him at a distance but then made him lose his mind with desire for her. But he had to admit to himself that it turned him on way more than anything else he had experienced in his life so far and every night he was cumming to the thought of Imogen.

A few minutes must have transpired and like so often while busy with this particular task Bryson lost track of time, his eyes shifting back and forth between the socked feet he was massaging, wandering up and down her legs, or looking into her beautiful face, framed by that almost shoulder-long dark hair that formed such a nice contrast with her pale skin.

Though when he looked up this time he was surprised by the look in Imogen's face. She had turned the music off and the headphones rested around her neck. Her lips were pursed and her eyes looked back at him with a spark in them that almost made him shiver. She looked adventurous, maybe a bit mischievous, even if her smile took the edge off. Without saying a word she withdrew one of her feet from his grasp and pointed her toes, gently nudging his obviously tenting pants, making him flinch visibly. Imogen chuckled and then gave him a nod.

"Let me see. Get it out for me.", she invited him with a whisper and Bryson scrambled to follow her suggestion, both of his hands feeling shaky as they undid his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. While he was busy Imogen removed her feet from his lap and leaned forward, taking her socks off. When she sat back again he was already fully exposed, his boxer shorts pulled down and his cock and balls standing out. He was neither small nor big at five and a half inches, though of course he was aware that he could not compare with what you usually saw in porn videos. He had googled the average size and figured that he was somewhere in the middle, but Imogen seemed impressed anyway, putting her feet up on his thighs, so alluringly close to his quivering crotch.

"You love this, right?", she asked him, her sensual tone of voice intermingled with genuine curiosity. "How about this?" One of her feet rose up and with her toes she gently caressed the shaft of his dick, moving up and down with a faint, somewhat clumsy touch. But to Bryson this was more than he had hoped for. He had to clench his eyes shut, holding his breath with a gasp and his hands went to her foot, gently guiding her a little closer. The moment he touched her she withdrew.

"Uh-uh...", she made, reacting to his pleading look with a grin and a shake of her head, "Hands by your side. I want to do this on my terms."

For a moment his trembling fingers hovered near to her feet but then he reluctantly lowered them, holding onto the edge of the table. Imogen nodded approvingly to him and her foot came back up, resuming the faint touches delivering a little bit of stimulation to him that was just enough to make him throb against her toes, but not enough to actually bring him to orgasm. The way it looked though! Her pale, soft foot playing with his cock! An image he had seen in his dreams and thoughts so often while jerking off these last few weeks, now reality and easily overwhelming him. He noticed that her toe-nails were immaculate and covered in a dark red, shiny polish. It looked like a professional job and he wondered if she had planned for this rather than following a whim. He had learned early on in their friendship that Imogen liked to come prepared, often planning five steps ahead.

"A little more pressure, please...", he stammered, hating how his voice was quivering and timid, not at all like he imagined himself when he fantasized about Imogen.

She reacted with one curt nod. "My terms.", she repeated, though when she lowered her foot again she put more of her leg's weight behind it, and his cock was trapped between her toes and his stomach, causing his hips to squirm around.

"You know...", Imogen said softly in a conversational tone while continuing her one-foot massage of his desperate cock, kind of gently stomping him until she felt the pressure in him increase too much and she gave him some room to twitch and deflate. "I really like that we will share the same college. Most of our friends went off to head out into different parts of the country, trying to see the world, other cities, new faces. Though I bet some were also scared of the Milton Experiment." She gave him a smile and lifted her other foot, hooking it behind his cock so it rested against the upside of her toes. The soft sole of her other foot now began pushing gently against it, trapping his throbbing erection in a very delicious way that made him gasp out loudly.

"It's really cool that you don't mind. I wasn't sure about you, but the fact that you stay with me despite the experiment means a lot to me.", she sounded genuine and maybe even a little emotional. Bryson had read some headlines about the Milton Experiment, a trial take on campus security that would see a test-run around their university campus this year. It made a lot of sense because the university was brand new and you only had to instruct the new batch of freshmen instead of having to also re-educate a whole campus of students who had already gotten used to the old ways. He wasn't sure what exactly the experiment entailed, but there was a lot of discussion around it, so political that it pretty much was just white noise to him. Stuff like that never really had any effect on the real life anyway.

Imogen with her political interest was all over it of course and had been gushing to him about the brave new concept and how it would hopefully show the wanted results and then be applied universities nation-wide. He wasn't too worried about researching more since one of the mandatory classes in the first year was all about the experiment specifically, so he would learn everything there.

"I'm just...", he gasped right as he wanted to reply to her, but she grinned and used her toes to grab around his cock's head, making his mind melt for a second, deliberately interrupting him. He collected himself and breathed out: "I'm happy I get to stay with you, Mo. And you... you told me that maybe we can try that relationship thing if I stick around?"

She nodded at him and her hands toyed with the hem of her skirt, making her seem almost innocent if it wasn't for her bare feet gripping his cock and squishing it. "It's still a little soon. But yeah, if you stay we can try it out." After a brief pause she added with a firm look into his eyes: "On my terms."

He nodded unsteadily, lips pressed to a thin line, and Imogen pursed her lips. Suddenly she wasn't as timid and clumsy anymore, holding his cock straight and instead of just softly stepping on it her toes formed a semi-circle around his shaft and moved up and down.

"Oh fuck...", Bryson groaned, enthralled by how her dancer's legs moved and flexed as she applied dedicated pressure around the head of his cock. He wanted this to last, he was desperate to stay within this moment, but his body disobeyed him. Not even three minutes had passed since she put her feet on his cock, and about ten seconds since she picked up the pace. And now his eye-lids fluttered and his cock pulsated as thick cum squirted out of the trapped head, flushing over Imogen's feet, her toes and dripping down her heel. For a moment longer the brunette waited, then she leaned forward, a tissue already in her hand, probably from the backpack beside her. She released him and wiped down her feet quickly, slipping her socks back on.

In that moment the sound of car-tires on the rough stones leading up the drive-way could be heard and Imogen grinned. "Perfect timing!", she called out, shutting the laptop and wiggling her feet back into her red flat-top Chucks. She was already on her feet, the backpack slung over one shoulder as Bryson still wiped at the cum on his stomach with his bare hands. She hadn't offered him a tissue and actually stuffed hers back into her bag. But luckily most of the cum had covered her feet and he would be fine just buttoning up and leaving.

"Come on, let's not be late for sign-up.", she encouraged him, "If we start driving now we can skip the longer queues that will surely be there later on today."

He got to his feet, his legs feeling a little unsteady so close after his surprise-orgasm, but he managed to slip on his shoes and grab his bag. Imogen rolled her eyes at him. "Your sign-up forms, you fucking brainiac.", she teased him with a smile and he chuckled, turning back around to pick up the signed stack of papers from the table and giving her an appreciative nod.

The front door opened and they heard the voice of woman call out: "I'm back Bryson! You needed the car right?"

Imogen went down the stairs followed by Bryson and gave his step-mom a nod. "Hey Mrs Clarke. Did you get everything you wanted to buy?", she asked with a friendly smile, taking one of the grocery bags from her and carrying it to the kitchen which earned her a grateful sigh.

Charlize Clarke was a woman in her early thirties, long-limbed and tall, with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She was pretty and had a refined air of sophistication around her, even while hugging a paper bag filled with groceries. Today she wore a simple fitted summer-dress reaching down to just under her knees that still looked extremely fashionable on her slender frame. At nearly six feet tall she towered above Imogen but she still allowed her to help with the bags, giving Bryson a cocky smile with her brows raised as if to say:

'See? Young people can help out around the house.'

But Bryson did not return that smile. He grabbed the keys and impatiently swirled them around his finger by the ring.

"We're gonna grab the car, okay Charlize?", he asked, calling her by her full name instead of her preferred nickname Charlie.

A slight frown appeared on the blonde's forehead and it deepened as she saw the mess of dishes in the sink. "Really Bryson? No time to do your chores?", she asked with disappointment rather than anger in her voice, "I asked you to do the dishes so I could cook up something fun for when you two return from the sign-ups."

He gave her a non-committal smile and shrugged. "Maybe I can do them after? We really gotta get going now. Office opens at eight and it's nearly nine already. If we head there now we can skip the big mid-day queues." He paused and then looked over to Imogen. "Right Mo?"