The next morning we lazed around reading and listening to the radio. I was in sweatpants and an old t-shirt (and my belt, of course), Jenny was in her kimono. I was already half regretting my decision last night. So was my dick, which was trying to get hard every few minutes, as if to remind me that I had passed up the chance to cum last night.
Jenny stood up and stretched. It had the same effect on me as before, except the little twinge in my dick felt more like an electric shock. She went into the kitchen, and I could hear her talking on the phone for awhile. Then she came back into the living room.
"Come on, get dressed," she said. "We're meeting Marnie and Susan for lunch."
"Okay..." I said. Normally you couldn't have dragged me to lunch with her friends, but I didn't want to give her the slightest excuse to extend my time. As we went into the bedroom to change, she turned to me.
"Of all the outfits I've worn the last two weeks, which one have you liked best?" she asked.
I laughed. "They've all been great," I said, and I meant it. "Probably the gray skirt and the garters."
She snorted. "Of course you'd pick the one that's the most work," she said. "And the kinkiest."
"Look who's calling the kettle 'kinky'," I said, and we both laughed. As I got dressed and she changed into the outfit I had picked, I could swear that skirt was even shorter and that top even tighter.
We went to meet her friends at a restaurant and while, no, I wasn't sure I could trust my perceptions those
days, but it was still pretty cool out and it seemed like her friends were underdressed for the weather. Her friend Marnie wore very tight white tennis shorts and an equally tight black sweater. Trish, another friend, had a punk thing going with a short leather skirt, fishnet stockings, and boots, with a cropped band t-shirt. Susan, Jenny's best friend, sat beside me. She had a short green skirt and a white top with a peek-a-boo opening that gave me a nice view of a couple inches of cleavage.
I was going nuts in a whole new way, trying not to get caught looking where I shouldn't be. When I looked at any of them in the face, they always seemed to take a drink, making sure to play with their straw with their tongue for a few seconds first.
Trish was even less subtle. I'd ordered fish and chips for lunch, and at one point she "sneaked" one of my fries. She then made a big deal about licking the salt off it, commenting about how "firm and warm" it was. I struggled not to stare open-mouthed and thought that one small consolation of the belt was nobody could see my raging, frustrated hard-on.
On the drive home, I brought up the subject of lunch. It had been obvious her friends were in on the teasing. I wasn't too pleased about her friends knowing about our "chastity play," let alone being a part of it. I felt like that would be a violation of trust. I came out and asked her if her friends knew about our "game."
"No, of course not," she said. "I told them we had a fight and I was refusing to have sex with you until you apologized. Then I asked them to help me put a little pressure on."
I barked out a laugh. "You mean all that was planned?" I asked.
"Not by me," she said. "They came up with most of that among themselves. I thought the bit with the straws was pretty clever."
My cock stiffened at the memory (of course at that point my cock stiffened at almost anything). "Yes, that was very effective," I said. "I'm just glad this is still our secret."
Jenny nodded. "Except for Susan. She knows."
What? "What?" I said.
"Yeah, she's even given me a couple of helpful suggestions the last couple of weeks."
I wondered how much of my current frustration and desperation was due to Susan's "helpful suggestions." Then I was trying to decide how I felt about Susan knowing.
"I hope you don't mind," Jenny said, then she crossed her legs so that short, gray skirt rode up even further.
A charge went from my cock through my whole body. Jesus, all she had to do was flash a little (more) thigh and my brain turned to mush. "No, I don't mind," I said, trying to keep my eyes on the road. "What are friends for?"
At home, Jenny decided to "get some chores done." She changed into her short cutoffs and an old Oxford shirt of mine, which she tied off just below her breasts, showing off her tummy and gorgeous curves. Then, we got to work. Actually, I got to work. Jenny spent most of the time giving me instructions, sipping tea, and re-writing her To Do list. I definitely wondered if she was using my predicament to get me to do the housework. Not for the first time, I wondered how far I was willing to go for an orgasm. Doing a little housework was nothing. If she was willing to use my frustration to get me to do that, what else might she want me to do for a chance to cum? The idea frightened and excited me at the same time.
It didn't really take long to work our way through Jenny's To Do list. Finally, she told me to clean the bathroom while she dusted. As I was finishing she came into the bathroom and said, "We both need a shower. Strip." I took off my clothes, then she instructed me to turn around. In the bathroom mirror, I saw her take handcuffs out of the back pocket of her shorts. She cuffed my hands behind my back. Then she turned me back around, took the keys to my belt off from around her neck, and unlocked the belt.
After she stripped she literally led me by the dick into the shower. I was already rock hard and I could feel my heartbeat pulsing through my dick where her hand touched it. She started with herself, soaping herself down, slowly rubbing it all over her body. I watched hungrily, wanting her like I'd never wanted anything else in the world.
Then it was my turn. She started with my hair, shampooing then conditioning it (I didn't normally use conditioner, but this seemed like a bad time to complain). She soaped down my whole body, then slowly rubbed the soap across my skin, then rinsed it off. Through it all, she carefully avoided my cock and balls. I was going crazy, both from wanting her to touch me there and from the anxiety of knowing what was coming when she did.
It was pure bliss and pure torture. Her soapy hands slowly and thoroughly washed every square inch of my cock and balls, then did it again, then did it again. Then she took the shower head down off its hook and rinsed me off. She held the shower nozzle very close to me and moved it slowly back and forth along the underside of my dick and balls. It actually felt kind of nice on my balls, but on my dick, it felt like a hundred tiny fingers teasing me. I could hardly stand it and tried to move away, but she backed me against the wall and, seeing how frustrating I found it, kept moving the shower head slowly along my shaft while I gritted my teeth and grunted in frustration.
Finally, the shower was over (I felt like I needed a shower to recover from my shower). Jenny toweled us both off (paying special attention to my genitals, of course), then left me standing there while she turned and cleaned my belt.
A shiver went through me as I watched her do it. Suddenly the thought of another day in the belt, another day without cumming, seemed unbearable. I couldn't go back in the belt, I just couldn't.
I dropped to my knees on the bathroom floor. Jenny turned to me in surprise. "Jenny," I pleaded, "please don't make me put the belt back on. I can't stand it."
Her eyes narrowed. "What?" she asked coldly.
I bent over and put my head on the floor next to her bare feet, my hands still cuffed behind my back. "Oh god, please. Please, please, please. I'll do anything. Anything."
She bent down and took my shoulders in her hands, then pulled me up with her as she stood. Her hard look had softened to one of almost sympathy.
"Now, you know the rules," she said. "We can talk about you getting out of the belt, but only when you're in the belt. Right?"
I nodded. I knew where this was going. It was incredible, unbelievable, but in a couple of minutes, I'd be back in the belt.
"I'm not going to go through this every time we do a little maintenance," she continued. "I'll let it slide this time, but next time you make a scene like this you're going to get another month in the belt -- and you're not going to get to cum first."
This was a reference to the choice I'd made last night. It seemed like a million years ago. Suddenly I felt ashamed of the scene I'd just made. Tears of frustration running down my face, I nodded in surrender and agreement. My dick screamed at me in silent protest as I felt the belt go on and I heard the "snick" of the lock snapping shut.
Jenny left me alone for a while, sitting in the living room watching TV while I collected myself. Eventually, I went into the bedroom and found her reclining on the bed reading in her old jeans and a sweatshirt.
"I'm sorry for that display," I said quietly.
"That's okay," she said. "I love making this hard for you, but I do know it's hard for you." She jumped out of bed, then gave me a big hug, then a long, lingering kiss. My cock, only recently calmed down, stirred again.
Jenny went over to the closet. "You know, we just cleaned that kitchen and I don't feel like messing it up. Let's eat out tonight." She pulled a short, black cocktail dress out of the closet. "How about that Mexican place?"
I swear every man in that place had his eyes on Jenny as the hostess show us to our table. I'm sure many of them were envious of me, but once again I was jealous of them: they could, at the very least, jerk off tonight. But as much as my whole body ached for an orgasm, I was sure I wasn't getting one tonight.
To be continued
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