Evil

By DX

Copyrighted 10/2002, 10/2023, All Rights Reserved.

Tiffany was a professional seductress.  Armed with beauty, charm, and wit, she could take any man and set him up nicely for blackmail and ruin.  Can she be stopped?  

A Chasti-Permalock story.

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 Her fingers flash across the lighted keypad, desperately trying to decipher the code. They begin to tremble as her heart quickens, anticipation, anxiety building within her. A teasing spark erupts through her sex as the first code is solved. Her face glistens with sweat. Four more to go, each one exponentially harder than the next. Not only does the changing code become more complicated, but with each lock solved, the chasti-permalock tickles her, titillates her, driving her to the quick, to sexual madness. 

 She must keep her focus, ignore the massive sexual energies that are gearing up within her and keep up with the pace the lock plays for her. Any hesitation, any mistake, its ends. The key pad shuts down for seven days: one hundred and sixty-eight long, horny and frustrated hours, and she will count each one until she can desperately try again. 

 The code will have changed and she must start all over again. So difficult, but she tries anyway. She tries to see clear through her passion and concentrate on the task. She has too. Her reward is sexual bliss, a mind numbing, world ending, cataclysmic orgasm, but even more importantly, freedom. Freedom from the hellish device that locks away her already hyperactive sex, her battleship breasts, her sweet, pouty, succulent lips behind a Chasti Permalock impenetrable shield of titanium/tungsten alloy. The device that makes sexual contact of any kind impossible for her. 

 The device that I locked her in.

 Does that make me evil?

 Her name is Tiffany. She was nineteen when she began her internship at my husband's campaign camp. I met her at a rally. I disregarded her openly flirtatious behavior as just being overly enthusiastic about working for high powered, up and coming politician, but I became concerned when it didn't end at the rally. She would show up at the house to bring him his briefcase he left at work, or updates on case files or polls. She showed up at every party and function and clung to his arm like a barnacle with her big eyes flashing and her cavernous cleavage displayed for everyone to see. 

 My husband was too flattered to discourage her attention, and who could? What fifty year old man could resist the attention of a teen beauty queen oozing with sex appeal?

 I confronted her. At first I was subtle, then diplomatic, then I told her to leave my husband alone.

 Her innocent doe eyes darkened. "Jealous?" She cooed. "Feeling threatened?"

 I matched her glare. "Leave him alone."

 She shrugged wistfully. "Nothing has happened between us." She conceded. "Yet."

 "Why are you doing this?"

 She smiled like a little child. "Because he's so well behaved. I want to see how long it takes before he cracks. I give it two weeks."

 My eyes turned to hard slits. "Is that how you get your kicks?"

 She seemed offended at the term. "There's some thrill involved. Mostly it's the money."

 My head jerked from surprise. "Money?"

 "Oh, yes." She said with a delicate shoulder shrug. "After he sleeps with me, how much will he pay to keep our love affair a secret from the public? Don't worry, I have very reasonable prices." She giggled and walked away.

 And you thought I was evil.

 I told my husband to get rid of her. He scoffed. He assured me I was the only one for him, but I knew better. I had a make over, I dressed more seductively, I was attentive, I did everything I could think of but I knew in my heart, I had only bought some time. I consulted a plastic surgeon and he promised he could take 10 years off my face. I would need touch up surgery in five years.

 In five years, she would be twenty-four and harder to resist.

 My husband, a pillar of strength, would crumble to her persistent and skilled charms and he was blind to the danger. 

 I had to do something.

 I was angry. I thought of having her killed but she wouldn't suffer enough. I wanted to lock her away, and doing some research, I found the Chasti-Permalock web site. Fascinated by the idea, I even played around with the 'Build A Belt' program and designed a custom chastity belt, but I never ordered it. I couldn't conceive of a way to get one on her and the web site was very explicit about locking someone up against their will.

 I had to get her to put it on knowing what it was.

 She wasn’t stupid. She would never lock herself into permanent chastity. I figured it was a dead idea.

 I had nothing.

 Then she made her move.

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Copyrighted 10/2002, 10/2023 all rights reserved.

A Fantasy Best Left Alone.

By DX

Copyrighted 7/2000, 9/2023 all rights reserved.

A woman discovers modern chastity, but is permanent chastity a step too far?  A Chasti-Permalock Story.

 "So now it’s your turn." She said. "Tell me your fantasy."

 It was the first warm spring day of the year and they were recharging their spirits in the sun light. They were laying out on the expansive, rolling lawn of the city park and staring up at the big, blue sky giving names to the cotton ball clouds drifting lazily by.

 Her head rested on his stomach.

 "I told you mine," She said. "Now you tell me yours."

 "I didn't want to play." He said.

 She rolled over.  Her cheek lay upon his chest as she looked up at his handsome face. His hands were behind his head making his massive chest seem that much bigger. His sky blue eyes gazed up, watching the clouds. 

 “Come on." She chided. "It can't be any more pathetic than mine."

 Her's was a plain, straight forward Pirate abduction. The salty bearded one eye sailor who reeked of sweat and gun powder carried her in his powerful arms.  Her ship plundered, and now a blazing sunset, lit up the night backdrop. 

 Down below in his quarters, he  insouciantly drops her in his bunk. As she vainly struggles against her bonds, he rips her dress asunder, only to pause and gaze in reverence at her creamy, china porcelain flesh, the bud on her heaving bosoms perk to attention. His scraggly beard tickles her chest as he plunges his face into her deep cleavage as she succumbs to her lusting want. Oddly enough, her pirate looked much like her husband, but she didn't tell him that.

 He snorted a laugh. "Your fantasy can happen."

 Her eyebrow arched as her curiosity piqued. "As if I actually want some smelly ol' pirate to have his way with me."

 "Yes you do."

 She sighed. "But where could we rent a Spanish galleon?"

 He pointed to the sky. "That cloud looks like a Man-o-War."

 She poked him in the side. "Don't try to change the subject. Spill it."

 "No." He said.

 She began to idly play with the buttons on his shirt. "If it can't happen, then what do we have to worry about."

 "Because maybe it can."

 She lifted her head, startled at the paradox. "Then share it!"

 "Maybe I don't want it to happen." He looked down at her, then laid his head back, looking skyward again. "Perhaps it's a fantasy best left alone."

 Her eyes were wide with wonder. "But that's the best kind of fantasy. Come now. If you can't share your deepest, darkest secret with your wife, it'll only fester in your sub conscious until it corrupts your morals. Much like a politician."

 "Are you saying that a politician had morals to start with?"

 She patted his chest. "Your changing the subject again. You know my hooks are in and I won't let this go." She nudged him. "Tell me." She whined like a cute six year old. "I promise not to think you're a total freak."

 "You already think I'm a total freak." He said.

 She snuggled up close, her head resting on his chest so she could see him better. "I'm waiting."

 He looked at her, then back up at the sky. "I saw a web site, the other day. They were selling chastity belts."

 Her eyes widened. "You want to lock me up? Keep me as your wench?"

 "They're permanent devices." He looked at her, his eyes watching her reaction. "No sex, no touching, just sexual frustration forever."

 Her eyebrows lifted as she pondered the concept. She sat up, then swung her leg over him and laid on top of him.  Her hands pressed against his chest and her chin rested on her hands. "And you wouldn't be able to fuck me, then what would you do?"

 "I'd have to do without."

 She mused. "Hmmm, and so would I." She inched closer to his face. "Locked up forever? I think I would scream after the first five minutes."

 He touched her lip with a gentle finger and outlined her gentle, kissable mouth. "They have gags."

 "But then there would be no kissing." Her lips fell upon his and their warmth mingled together.

 When they broke, he whispered. "I would have to do without."

 She cooed. "Oh, how you would suffer?" She smiled. "And what would you do with a wife you could not fuck or kiss? Perhaps you would have to give me a pearl necklace?" She pushed her breasts together and deepened her cleavage.

 He shook his head. "Your breasts would be shielded."

 She blinked her surprise. "What would you do with a sexless, kissless, breastless, wife who's being driven mad with sexual frustration?"

 He wrapped his arms around her. "I would hold her, and love her and delight in her torrid predicament."

 She looked around, checking on the other people strolling around the park to see if anyone was paying them any mind. She then took her skirt and draped it over his waist and straddled him. “And how you would suffer." She said reaching under her skirt and finding his zipper. "You would miss my warm, tight pussy so much." She stroked him gently. "Perhaps I could use my hands to ease your suffering."

 He smiled. "It would pale in comparison."

 She smiled as she felt his solid firmness. "Yes. I think you would be miserable without my pussy to fuck. You couldn't just take another woman, her cunt would never be as sweet as mine." She whispered as she hiked her hips and slid down on him, shivering at her own wetness and surprised at her own reaction. "Mmmmm. Oh, I could not bear to see you suffer."

 He moaned. "Then perhaps, some fantasies are best to remain fantasies."

 And there in the warmth of the new spring sun on the fresh delicate grass in plain view of anyone who wanted to watch, they slowly, demurely screwed like earth worms.

 She squeaked, startled by her sudden orgasm. She found herself trembling, drained, but the thought of being chastised for life sparked her again. She continued to slowly grind against him, and as she watched his face flash with orgasmic pain she felt her own orgasm clutch her again. They laid there, conjoined for what felt like hours, until the new sun slipped below the hill. 

 They went home and fucked and like newly weds.

 Monday was grey and drizzly and she counted the seconds until lunch hour rolled around.  She waited with bated breath for the office to meander out. Alone, she quickly brought up a search engine and typed in Chastity belts.

 She was amazed there were so many sites selling them; modern materials, wild styles, and some designed for long wear.

 One site went beyond.

 The Chasti-Permalock!

 It came with a high production trailer.

 With a nervous hand she clicked on the video and watched as Kate Jackson explained how the Chasti-Permalock used nanites to permanently deny access to a subject's sexuality. Kate presented her partner, Chastity Liberate, a silenced, bound and chastised woman.  Chastity modeled her chastities, as Kate explained them and their features.  

 Shifting easily, turning, presenting, Chastity looked into the camera.  Her beautiful, happy, expressive eyes conveyed so much.

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