It's one of those evenings when I know exactly how to torture you without giving you even the slightest relief. We're sitting on the sofa together - you, me and our friend. You've been wearing the chastity belt permanently for months, since last year to be precise, and I can see how it tears you apart inside every time you remember that you'll never come again the old-fashioned way. You know it, I've told you often enough. Your days of liberation are over - and that's exactly what excites me so much about these moments.
You sit there, unusually still, your hands resting on your knees, but I can see the tension in your shoulders, hear the slight tremor in your breathing. The permanent tightness of the chastity belt makes you feel how much you long for relief, how much you want to beg me to finally show you mercy. But you say nothing. You understood long ago that I no longer give you what you crave. Your desire no longer means anything in this game. I enjoy bringing you to this point - again and again.
Then I lean close to you, my breath brushing your ear, and I whisper: "Would you like me to suck you?" But before you can answer, I smile seductively and start to "advertise" my skills - as if the whole thing were an innocent offer. "Do you remember how I used to practice?" I whisper, my voice soft and a little teasing. "I perfected it over the years, with lots of other men. Everyone who wanted it got what they wanted, whenever they wanted it. I was always ready, never said 'no'. I always had an open mouth for them, at all times. No one was ever dissatisfied." I pull you deeper and deeper into the memories with my words: "Remember how you used to say that there was nothing better? That I was professional and passionate? Other men couldn't get enough of it, and they never had to wait. With them, it was all about when and how often they wanted it, and I was always there, with abandon, with my lips open." My voice softens, almost a whisper: "I made sure everyone was completely exhausted and absolutely satisfied. You know I do this with so much dedication.... There is no mistake, no uncertainty, only perfection. Everyone got what they wanted." I pause, my eyes sparkling as I fix you with that seductive gaze. The temptation is palpable, I picture in your mind how it used to be, how ready I was for others - but you know that doesn't apply to you. Your breath hitches, your muscles tense, but you still manage to get the words out: "No... I don't need this." Despite the words, I can see the desperation in your eyes, the slight trembling of your body. An amused smile spreads across my lips. I place my hand on your thigh, feel the warmth of your skin under the fabric and how you try to hold yourself back. But between your legs, the chastity belt presses against the fabric of your pants, reminding you that you have no choice. You've been locked up for months and that's not going to change. Not in the way you'd hope. But then I slowly turn to our friend who has been watching silently the whole time. My smile widens as I look him straight in the eye. "If you don't want it..." I let the words hang in the air, my gaze sliding briefly to you just to feel your reaction. "I'm sure he's used to getting a blow job whenever he wants. Not like you... I haven't done that to you for a long time." I can feel the tension growing inside you, your breathing becoming shallower. The chastity belt wraps around you tightly, keeping you locked in, and you know there's no escape. You look at me as if you're trying to stay in control, but I can see it boiling inside you. Part of you wants to stop me, wants to break the chain around your mind, but you know you can't stop the game. "Then you'd better suck it," you say, almost hoarsely, your voice betraying the frustration boiling inside you.
I laugh softly as I turn to our friend, my hands sliding gently onto his thighs. He watches me intently, his eyes following my every move. I slowly undo his belt and unbutton his trousers while I keep glancing at you. I want you to see everything. I want you to feel how you're being left out. You sit right next to him, watching as I pull his pants and underwear over his hips, gripping him with my hands while the pressure of the chastity belt relentlessly prevents you from finding relief. Your breath hitches as I slowly lean forward, letting my tongue glide lightly over the tip of his cock. I can feel you unconsciously leaning forward slightly, as if you'd like to do something yourself, but you can't. The belt is holding you back, just as I want it to. With slow, pleasurable movements, I take him deep into my mouth, my tongue gently playing along his length as I rhythmically suck. Every sound my lips make is like a slap in the face to you - the soft smacking that fills the room drives you insane. You watch as his hands grip my hair while he moans softly. You're forced to witness every second of it as the chastity belt relentlessly imprisons your own arousal. You know there's no way for you to get rid of this tension, no release, and that's what drives you to desperation. You want so much for me to do it to you, to pleasure you, but instead you see me taking him deeper into my mouth, sucking harder, until finally he can no longer contain himself with arousal. With a deep groan, he finally explodes, and I hold him tightly in my mouth as he comes inside me. It's a lot, more than I expected, and I struggle to swallow it all. My face remains still, but I can feel a large amount running down the corner of my mouth. It dribbles down my chin, and I pause, my eyes wide as I swallow as much as I can, still holding your gaze. A smacking sound fills the room as I pull back, and you can see the residue still running down my chin. With slow, deliberate movements, I wipe away the excess with my finger, smoothing it over my lips without once breaking eye contact. Then I turn to you, my finger glistening, and I smile slightly as I hold it out to you. "Open your mouth," I command you, my voice firm and unyielding. Your body trembles with frustration, but you obey, opening your mouth. I slowly insert my finger, gently stroking your tongue and forcing you to take in everything I offer you. You close your lips around my finger and I can feel you slowly tasting everything, submissively surrendering to the situation. "Good," I say quietly as I withdraw my finger. "Do your bidding." You swallow, just as I just did, as I stare at you, your desperation visible in every muscle of your body. The chastity belt holding you down makes the situation even more unbearable for you - but you know there's no way out.
After it's all over, you look at me, your eyes almost pleading, but you don't say a word. Instead, you slowly turn to our friend, who is leaning back and going over the events in his mind. Your voice is soft and submissive as you say: "Thank you for letting her do that... she enjoys it so much. I know I won't get it anymore. My wife is a good housewife, and that's why she wants to spoil other men, but not me anymore." I hear your words and see your shoulders slump slightly, almost relieved that you've spoken this humiliating acceptance speech. But I know that the pressure inside you continues to grow. The chastity belt cuts into your skin, the frustration is evident in your eyes, but you know this is your role - and you comply. I lean back, brush my lips slowly, and my eyes sparkle with satisfaction. "That's what it feels like," I whisper softly as you still feel the taste on your tongue and surrender to the dynamic I've created.
When I see the look on your face and sense how docile you are in your role, I get an even better idea. Without another word, I straighten up and walk to the window of the room with deliberate, slow movements. With a firm grip, I open it wide so that the cool air flows in. The sound of passers-by on the street now penetrates clearly into the room. You look at me in confusion, your eyes full of uncertainty. "Come here," I say calmly but firmly as I point to the open window. "Lean out of it. You'll be very visible to the people down there." Your face pales as you realize what I'm asking of you, but you have no choice. Hesitantly and with trembling hands, you move towards the window. I gently but firmly push your upper body forward so that you have to lean out. Down on the street, people walk past, unaware that you are looking down on them from above while I am behind you. They can always look up and look you straight in the face. Then I take some lube and penetrate you with a finger without warning. Your body flinches, but you hold on to the windowsill, trying not to make a sound. My finger slides deep inside you while you try to breathe calmly, afraid that someone might look up and notice you.
It feels different than you imagined - not liberating, not pleasurable, but uncomfortable and oppressive, intensified by the danger of being discovered. I start to massage your prostate, but the movements are hard and precise, as if I'm just performing a task without taking your reaction into consideration. "Don't lean out too far," I say softly, almost teasingly, as I continue. "Maybe people will see you... maybe even your face when you moan." You try to focus, to tighten your body, hoping to make it feel better, maybe gain some control over the situation. But before you can hold on to this feeling, I interrupt your thoughts with sharp words: "Stop tensing up right now!" My voice is stern and unyielding. "Relax immediately! And don't make any noise." Reluctantly, you let the tension leave your body, just as I told you to. The relaxation makes it worse - the pressure I'm putting on your prostate doesn't feel any better, only more uncomfortable. Every passing moment makes you sink deeper into this feeling of helplessness as you make sure no one notices you. "You know, I'm doing this for you," I say in a light, almost caring tone as my fingers continue to work. "Other men... they get a blow job, and a lot more. But with you, we both know this is much better for you, don't we?" I stroke your back briefly before continuing. "It's better for you," I say gently, almost comfortingly. "It'll give you a bit of relief, just the way you need it. You should be happy with it, silly." I can hear the slight tremor in your breathing, feel you trying to come to terms with it. "Other men get more... But it's just right for you. You're happy with that, aren't you?" The massage almost feels like a punishment to you. Each press of my fingers becomes more uncomfortable, penetrating deeper, but instead of the relief you were hoping for, it only makes it harder to control you. You feel no desire, no pleasure - just an unpleasant tug and the urge for it to finally stop. But I don't let up. I keep pushing and you know that you have no control over your own body.
After a few minutes, you realize how it just happens. Without warning, it flows out of you - no pleasure, no relief. Your body is forced to empty itself, and at that moment you let out an uncontrolled muffled grunt. You immediately try to stifle it, but it's too late. Your face turns red with embarrassment as you see startled passers-by down on the street looking up. It's not what you wanted. It wasn't liberating, just humiliating. You see the large puddle below you and the frustration continues to mount as you continue to lean out of the window, desperate not to attract any more attention. I pull my fingers back and look at the mess you've left with a sharp glance. "What a mess you've made here!" I scold sternly. "You'd better clean that up now!" Slowly, with trembling hands, you move away from the window as you begin to wipe up the puddle, while I scrutinize you with a sharp look. A mocking smile forms on my lips and I shake my head. "So quick," I say quietly, continuing to shake my head. "You really are a little piglet, aren't you?"
Your face flushes with humiliation, but you barely get it past your lips: "Yes... I am a piglet."