Wearing the chastity belt for a year had been harder to bear than I'd expected.  I mean, I was skeptical about it when she first suggested it, saying that she  wanted me to wear it for a year to demonstrate my devotion to her, but as she

slowly talked me into it I managed to convince myself that it couldn't be all

that bad, especially since I'd know it would be removed eventually. I hadn't

realized how frustrated I could get, or that frustration could actually drive me

to tears.

"I really want you to do this," she'd said. "I want to know that you're this

serious about our relationship. Please, honey, if you want me to be your

Mistress, I want to know that you can take being dominated for a long time

without a break."

"You mean you want to test me," I said, not sure whether to feel hurt or not.

"Um, yes, I do. Look, honey, do you really know that you really want to be

committed to being my slave? Do you really know that you won't get bored with it

someday and want to change things? Because I'll love you even if you're not my

slave, but if we're going to try to be serious about this D/s thing, I do want

to know it's going to work. So yes, I am saying I want to test you."

"Uh, yeah, I see your point. But a whole year? I mean, admittedly the idea has

intense fantasy potential, but ..."

"Dear, it would also please me and excite me to know that I had you locked up."

She gave me that sly smile that always sets butterflies swarming in my stomach.

I think she knows it has that effect on me. "I'd enjoy," she drew out the word

'enjoy' deliciously, "I'd enjoy knowing just how frustrated you were getting.

I'd love knowing all the time, even when we're apart, that you're my slave and

that you're suffering for me." She was getting turned on talking about it, and,

well, seeing her get turned on does things to me.

"What if I can't take it?" I asked nervously. "And does the chastity belt really

work like they say? I mean, is it really practical for wearing such a long


"I'll have the key, honey. If we absolutely have to take it off, we can. But I

really want you to wear it the whole year."

We talked like that off and on for a couple weeks. I reread all my old wanking

material that mentioned male chastity devices. She made sure I knew how much the

idea excited her. Eventually, trembling, I agreed. That night she locked the

thing on me. It was a week after her birthday.


It was deliciously exciting to have her lock me up, knowing that I couldn't free

myself and knowing that the plan was for me to wear the harness and be deprived

of my manhood for twelve long months. Fear mingled with excitement, my fantasies

and my nervousness played tag, and with my heart all aflutter I stood there and

let her tuck me into the device and lock it on my body.

That night she played with me, and the frustration was spice added to our

lovemaking. She was very gentle, stroking me here and there, and I made tender

love to her with my hands and my tongue. It was frustrating not to be touched on

my penis, not even to be able to get hard, but it was the kind of frustration

that can be fun in bondage. "This isn't so bad," I thought, "This is kind of

fun. A year is a long time, but at least I know the end date."

Over the next few weeks, the frustration stopped being so much fun, but it

wasn't too bad. My desires, being thwarted, diminished, and that made the

chastity belt easier to bear. I got used to washing with it on, managing to get

enough soapy water to run under it to keep me clean. I got used to the way it

felt under my clothes at work and slowly, oh so slowly, started becoming less

self-conscious about it. I got used to sitting down to pee. And I got used to

seeing the chastity belt locked on me when I looked in the mirror or looked down

at myself.


I almost convinced myself that I really didn't mind pleasing her without being  able to take the same kind of pleasure. I almost convinced myself that the feel  and taste of her pussy when I went down on her, or the wonderfull sounds she

made, didn't have to result in my dick painfully trying to get hard within its

prison and my mind feeling as trapped as my penis by my lack of release. Almost.


After a month I was starting to feel a little crazy. "I'm not sure whether I can

stand this, love."

"Oh, is it really that bad? You've gone longer without sex before, haven't you?"


"Well yeah, but I could masturbate then."

"Um. Think of it as a challenge. See whether you can master your desires. Do it

for me, honey? Please?"

I gulped. "I think I can manage a little longer, but jeez, this is starting to

drive me crazy!"

After three months, I was getting a little irritable. I was also constantly

trying to think of ways I could get even a little stimulation on my cock. I was

sure that the slightest touch there would trigger release.

"Dear, I really don't want to unlock you yet, but it's not fair that you do all

these wooonderful things to me and I'm not doing much back. Hmm. How do you feel

about being fucked in the ass?"

Desparate for anything, I said, "Yes, please Mistress!"

"Honey, I want to hear you beg for it."

The next half hour was thoroughly embarrassing.

I was so incredibly turned on when she started spreading the lube in my ass! And

when she started pushing the strap-on against my opening, I was in heaven! Oh


rapture, oh delight! As she fucked me, my pleasure built and built ... and so  did my desire for more, more, more. But never release. My cock hurt, pressing

against its confinement unable to become erect. At the time the pain merely

added to the delicious feast of sensations.

Eventually she tired and stopped, grinning a grin that would set fire and ice

chasing each other around your soul if you saw it. And I actually howled in

frustration, banging my head against the pillows and crying.

I eventually calmed down, managed to relax and sleep. And a month and a half

later, desparate, even though I knew it would leave me weeping in frustration

again, I kelt before her and begged her again to please fuck me in the ass. And

again I flew on winds of sensation, only to come crashing down again, weeping

and thrashing in frustration.


She'd given me some new rules while I was begging, little things to make our

roles of Mistress and slave a bit more formal, and I'd agreed to them. Our

relationship was getting a little more intense.

The next time I begged her to fuck me, she refused. She made me wait a week

after I got so desparate that I was ready to beg. Oh, I still got to touch her,

to enjoy her cries and moans of pleasure as I licked and nibbled. And swats from


her riding crop when my own frustration and desire carried me away and I got a  bit too enthusiastic, bit too hard, or went too fast.

Finally she asked me to wear her collar for a week. To work. I was shocked. I 

was scared. But I said yes, and she fucked me in the ass. That Monday I went

into the office skittish as a kitten at the dog pound. I got a few raised

eyebrows, and one or two kind comments. The real teasing didn't start until




The time after that she locked the collar on and added a tag saying "Property  of...". It's only come off when I've had to wear a tie since then.  "Mistress, I don't think I can take this any longer! I'm going mad, I'm so

frustrated, I mean sometimes it's just so intense and fantastic and exciting,

but then I start to get excited and I can't get hard and it gets frustrating

again. I love you and I love being dominated by you and I love feeling trapped

and I even love the frustration but I'm not sure I'm strong enough to take


"Oh, but you don't have to be strong enough, darling. That's what the lock is

there for." She smiled so sweetly, and caressed my face so tenderly that I

calmed down immediately, hanging on her every word. "I really want you to do

this for me. Do you think you can manage now?"

"Yes, Mistress," I said, much calmer, "I think I can. Please forgive me for ...

my weakness."

"Oh, honey, I know it's not easy. It's not supposed to be easy. Knowing how hard

it is for you, knowing that you're suffering excites me." I swallowed and she

continued. "As a matter of fact, I'm excited now, and I think I want to fuck

your cute little slave ass again."


Things changed a little after that. Instead of making me wait until I was ready  to beg for it and then making me wait some more, she started fucking me in the  ass more often, at her whim. That meant I didn't have to beg, and in some ways

it made the frustration a little easier to bear, but in other ways it made it

harder, because getting fucked excited me so. I think she knew exactly what she

was doing.

New rules ... I was her sex toy, to be used however she wanted whenever she

wanted, no matter my mood or how tired I was. Well, if she'd wanted to she could

have done that earlier. Still, by then it was a lot easier to get into the mood

when she decided she wanted me. At first it was just another neat dimension to

our game. Eventually I started feeling that I no longer had any rights to my own

body. That was both scary and fantastic. And the frustration continued.

In the last few months, I settled down a bit and started coming to grips more

with my situation. I got better at handling the frustration, better and not

letting it get in the way of my enjoyment of pleasures sexual and otherwise.

Perhaps knowing that most of my "sentence" had passed helped.


The last month she removed the key from its hiding place and started wearing it

around her neck. "The year's almost up," she'd say, "and it looks like you've

passed my test. Are you glad? Are you happy to know you can take being my slave,

so we can make our relationship permanent?"

Yes yes, oh yes I was glad. And thankfull for her reminder that though my year

of chastized hell was nearly over, it was not the ending of the dominance I

loved, but the marking of our knowing it would endure.

But oh, how I looked forward to the day when the infernal device would be

removed from my manhood and I could have the orgasm I'd been waiting a year for.

How I longed to thrust deep into her and feel her warm cunt gripping my shaft. I

could afford to let myself think these thoughts, now that the time of my release

was in sight. Every time I saw the key dangling between her breasts on its

chain, I licked my lips.


So yes, wearing the chastity belt for a year had been much harder than I'd

imagined, but I'd survived it. I'd held out for a year, I'd passed her test, I'd

proved to myself as well that I could bear such torment. I'd thought to beg her

for release, but I'd never thought to use my safeword to escape.

And tonight, a week after her birthday, it had been a year. She led me to our

bedroom, lit several candles, and tied me to the bed, muttering sweet

compliments to me the whole time, stroking me as she would a cat. A bowl of ice

sat on the bedside table, alongside a couple of neatly folded towels. A glass of

something clear sat on the dresser with a plate resting on top of it. She

stripped, while I watched, licking my lips, then straddled my face. "Eat me."

When she tired of that, she sat astride my belly, idly stroking my nipples. "You

made it," she said. "It's been a year."


"Do you want to continue to be my slave after this?"

"Yes, Mistress, I do!" I was excited beyond belief, and as much in love with her

as the day she'd first proposed locking me up.

She smiled, that delicious slow grin, and said, "Good. Because I want to keep

you! I don't want it to be a game. We've been playing pretty seriously, but

we've both known there was a time limit. Now I know you can handle that kind of

intensity for a long time. Do you want it? Do you want to continue permanently

as my slave? This deep?"

"Yes, Mistress! Anything! I am yours!"


I swear she started breathing harder and sweating a little. "I want this to be

real. I want you to get a tatoo saying you're my slave. And I want to get

married, and I want you to take my name instead of the other way around. And I

want to know that I can continue to use you whenever I want, to punish you

whenever I want, even to lock you up when I want, from now on."

My heart raced. I was frightened to make such a comittement with no time limit,

but I'd already found that I could not only handle being dominated full time but

even enjoy it even as I sufferred. "Yes, Mistress. I consent. I want that too."

"Do you want it enough to give up your safeword?"

"Yesss! I am _all_ yours, my love!"


She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me passionately, rocking her

hips, scooting back so she was rubbing herself against the edge of my chastity

belt. "Oh God, how I love you. And you're Mine!" She reached back and stroked my

thighs, then leaned forward to lick my nipples, the key on its chain brushing

against my chest. I panted, I moaned, I called out my love for her.

Finally she stopped, picked up the key, and said, "Well, it's time to deal with

this, no?"


I looked at her hungrily.

She removed the chain from around her neck. She remobed the key from the chain.

She went to the glass of clear liquid on the dresser and uncovered it. "A

toast," she said, "to your showing me you could pass my test!" She lifted the

glass, and the key.

And she dropped the key into the glass, where it fizzed and foamed and slowly


My heart fell. Actually, I think it stopped. She watched my face, grinning, as I

lay there disbelieving.

"I have a soldering iron in the bedside table," she said very quietly. "I'm

going to fill the keyhole with solder. You're mine forever, my love."



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