Downfall of King Wilfred the Chaste
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No Accounting For TastesChapter 16 : Chaste Behaviour free porn video
George awoke in a sweat, his cock stiff and in imminent danger of spurting. The dream had been vivid. He had been imprisoned in the cold stone dungeon of a castle where Deanna and Darla were smartly uniformed guards. Rebecca had arrived with food for him but his chains would not let him quite reach it. He had struggled against the chains while Darla, Deanna, and Rebecca all stood watching him and laughing. He sweated. They stood calm, cool in their crisply pressed uniforms. He could feel the chains chafe against his wrists and ankles; feel the pull of the chain from his collar to the wall behind him. Erica had walked in, striding in boots. Her outfit of black leather, dark glasses and a peaked cap commanded respect from the helpless George and the guards alike. She had trailed the tip of the whip she carried across his stiff, stubby cock as he wriggled in his chains, She had been advancing towards him as he woke. It took all his will power to stop himself reaching down to grasp his member but he knew what his Mistress would want him to do.
It was later, kneeling in front of Erica, that George confessed his dream to his Mistress. "I know that you said I should not indulge in sexual activity without your permission, Mistress," he said. "But what can I do about dreams? When I woke up it was all I could do to keep my hands off of myself."
Erica looked sympathetically at him. "It is difficult to obey isn't it?" she said.
George nodded. "Yes Mistress. The image of yourself and the other Mistresses are powerful incentives."
"And just us? Or have you ever opened the scrap book I had you make?"
George thought back to the first task that Erica had given him, the book of cut out pictures of the Mistresses that he had chosen from the magazines. He blushed. It was enough for Erica to confirm what she had already known.
"Of course you have. I understand."
"But I never masturbated, Mistress. I never came. I promise you."
Erica folded her hands in her lap. It was a line she had heard many times. As if that made any difference. "Perhaps not," she said. "But it remains to be seen if you have given your sexual self to me as you profess."
"But I have, Mistress. Why else would I tell you of my dream?"
"A hundred reasons. To boast. To test my resolve. To manipulate me into punishing you by giving me the excuse."
George hung his head, shaking it from side to side; distraught that Erica could think such a thing of him.
"But, from your lack of protest perhaps you are being honest."
"I am, Mistress, I want to give myself to you. I want to be sure I have given myself to you."
"Even though you find it difficult to obey."
"That's why I thought ... I should have ... I should wear..." George stammered. Erica waited patiently. She had learned that patience was more effective than a whip at bending a slave to her will. In the end the slave that bent themselves to her will were more fully submissive than any other.
"What?" she said, giving him the slight encouragement that he needed.
"Something to keep me obedient. Something to keep me chaste."
"Isn't that a bit of a cheat, slave? A chastity device? If you wear one of those where is the need for will power? Where is the obedience?"
George dared to look up at Erica. "I did think about that Mistress," he said, "really I did. But I do want to show you that I can do as you ask."
"I understand. I can help you I think. You will wear a device for me. I will provide you with the details. The device that you will wear can be removed if you choose. However, if you do so I will know and then, quite simply, you will not be allowed to come here again."
George bit his lip.
"If you beg me to remove it, I may do so but I do not promise to. I may get bored with the idea and remove it anyway. I may not. You need to be certain that this is something you want."
"I understand, Mistress," George said.
++ ++ ++
George arrived at Erica's with a dry mouth, both expectant and fearful of his anticipated meeting with Erica.
"Good morning, Mr Franks," Rebecca greeted him cheerily. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait for a while, Ms.Wilkie is with another client at the moment and can't be disturbed."
The waiting rooms for Erica's consultations looked like any other professionals offices. A few not very comfortable chairs stood along one wall with a low table in front of them carrying an assortment of out of date magazines. George, nervously clutching the bag containing his chastity device, sat down.
Rebecca didn't seem to have too much work to do. She was busily varnishing her nails, not paying George any attention at all. As she peered at her fingers holding them to catch the light, looking for the slightest imperfection in the glossy coating, George found himself staring at her hands. The way that her finger bent backwards seemed almost animal like as though the movement was the prelude to her unsheathing claws that could rake across the flesh of an opponent, drawing blood with each slash. Those same fingers he could imagine deftly threading ropes in an elaborate bondage, her own slight strength fastening wrists or ankles so that the strongest man would be unable to resist her.
George could feel his cock stiffening, this was exactly the sort of situation that the device was intended to remedy. What would Erica say if, when he came to put it on, he already had a raging erection? The thought simply made matters worse. George picked up a magazine in an attempt to divert his attention. The ruse didn't work; the magazine was the same as one of those he had chosen to fulfil his first task for Erica, cutting out those pictures of his imagined dominatrices. The result was to strengthen his erection as each of the pictures that he had selected came into view.
"Ahh!" exclaimed George as he realised what was causing his problem.
Rebecca looked up from her work on her fingers. As she did so she tossed a lock of hair clear of her forehead. To George it looked like the flicking tip of a whip. "Was there a problem, Mr Franks?"
"No, no, not at all, George responded. "Sorry. Didn't mean to disturb you. Sorry."
"That's all right, Rebecca replied. I wanted to ask your advice anyway."
She got up from behind her desk and walked around it. As she did so, George saw she was wearing one of the shortest skirts he had ever seen, together with a pair of shoes whose heels seemed designed to puncture the floor at every step. It was all George could do to stop his tongue lolling uselessly out of his mouth.
Rebecca sat beside him, her nylon clad thigh tight against his. She reached out with one hand towards his leg. George snatched his package away. Rebecca laid her hand on his thigh. "What do you think?" she said. "It's not too bright, is it?"
George looked down and coughed nervously. "No, no, not at all," he stammered.
"I think long nails look more dominant, don't you? I mean a lady with slaves doesn't need to do work so she can leave her nails long, can't she?"
George could feel the sharp tips of her nails through his trousers and his member stiffening in response. "I'm sure you're right Rebecca," he said.
Rebecca giggled. "I love that. 'I'm sure you're right.' That's the wonderful thing about working here. Nobody ever said anything like that to me before. It was always, 'do this', 'don't do that', 'no one's interested in what you have to say'. I'm quite enjoying people taking notice of my opinions for a change." Rebecca closed her fingers, pressing her sharp nails into George's thigh again. "Still, I can't spend too much time chatting. I've got things to do."
George almost whimpered as she got up pressing down on his thigh as she did so. She stepped back across the office. George's view of her backside in her tight skirt and the spike heels of her shoes as she walked away from him did nothing to quench his hard on. He was still rigid when Rebecca's intercom buzzed and after a short exchange, she gestured to the door to one of the consulting rooms. George wasn't sure if he was glad to be escaping Rebecca's attentions or worried that he was about to receive Erica's
Kierra
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