Two Weeks In: The Teasing Continues (Part 4)

The following day we relaxed at home, reading and listening to the radio. I was wearing sweatpants with an old t-shirt (and my belt, naturally), while Jenny wore her kimono. By then, I had already begun regretting my choice from the night before. My cock shared that sentiment; it kept trying to get erect every few minutes, as if to remind me of the chance to cum I’d missed.

Jenny rose and stretched. The sight affected me much like it did in the past, but this time the little twinge in my member felt more like a jolt of electricity. She headed into the kitchen where she chatted on the phone for some time before returning to the living room.

“Come along, get dressed,” she instructed. “We’re going out to lunch with Marnie and Susan.”

“Alright…” I replied. Usually, you’d have a hard time dragging me into socializing with her friends, but I didn’t want to give her even the smallest reason to prolong my confinement. As we headed toward the bedroom to change clothes, she turned back to me.

“Of all the outfits I’ve worn over these past two weeks, which one did you like best?” she inquired.

I chuckled. “They were all wonderful,” I said, meaning it sincerely. “Probably the gray skirt and garters combination.”

She snorted. “Naturally, you’d choose the outfit that requires the most effort,” she noted. “And is also the kinkiest.”

“Look who’s calling someone else ‘kinky’,” I retorted, causing us both to laugh. As I got dressed and she swapped into my chosen ensemble, it seemed to me as though her skirt was somehow shorter than before and the top even tighter.

We met up with her friends at a restaurant. While I wasn’t entirely sure of my senses during those days, the weather remained quite pleasant. It appeared that her companions were underdressed for conditions. Marnie wore very tight white tennis shorts paired with an equally snug black sweater. Trish, another friend, sported a punk look featuring a short leather skirt, fishnet stockings, boots, and a cropped band t-shirt. Susan, Jenny’s closest friend, sat next to me. She had on a short green skirt along with a white top that featured a peek-a-boo opening, offering me a lovely view of her cleavage.

I was going mad in an entirely new way, struggling not to stare where I shouldn’t be. Whenever I looked at any of them directly, they seemed certain to take a sip from their drinks, deliberately playing with the straw using their tongues for several seconds first.

Trish wasn’t subtle about it either. I had ordered fish and chips, and she “sneaked” one of my fries. She then made quite a production out of licking the salt off it, remarking on how “firm and warm” it felt. I fought hard against staring with my mouth agape, thinking that at least having the belt meant no one could see my raging erection.

On the drive back home, I brought up the topic of lunch. It was clear her friends were in on the teasing game. I wasn’t too thrilled about them knowing about our “chastity play,” let alone participating in it. I felt that might breach some trust. So I asked her directly if they knew about our “game.”

“No, naturally not,” she replied. “I told them we had a fight and I was refusing to sleep with you until you apologized. Then I asked them to help apply a bit of pressure.”

I let out a bark of laughter. “You mean all that was planned?” I questioned.

“Not by me personally,” she said. “They worked most of it out among themselves. I thought the straw trick was quite clever.”

My cock stiffened at the memory (though truthfully, my cock seemed to stiffen at almost anything during this period). “Yes, that was very effective,” I agreed. “I’m just glad it remains our secret.”

Jenny nodded. “Except for Susan. She knows.”

“What? What do you mean?” I exclaimed.

“Yeah, she’s actually given me a few helpful suggestions over the last couple of weeks.”

I wondered how much of my current frustration and desperation was due to Susan’s “helpful suggestions.” Then I found myself weighing how I felt about her knowing.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Jenny said, then crossed her legs so that her short gray skirt rode up even higher.

A charge shot through me from cock to head. Goodness, all she had to do was flash a bit more thigh and my brain turned to mush. “No, I don’t mind,” I said, trying to keep my eyes on the road ahead. “What are friends for?”

Back home, Jenny decided to “get some chores done.” She changed into her short cutoffs and one of my old Oxford shirts, which she tied off just below her breasts, showcasing her tummy and lovely curves. Then, we got to work. Well, I actually did the working; Jenny spent most of the time giving me instructions, sipping tea, and rewriting her To Do list. I definitely wondered if she was using my predicament to get me to do more housework. Not for the first time, I questioned how far I was willing to go for an orgasm. Doing a bit of cleaning was nothing. If she was willing to leverage my frustration to make me work, what else might she want from me in exchange for letting me cum? The idea both frightened and excited me simultaneously.

It didn’t take long to get through Jenny’s list. Finally, she told me to clean the bathroom while she dusted. As I finished up, she entered the bathroom saying, “We both need a shower. Strip.” I removed my clothes, then she instructed me to turn around. In the mirror, I saw her reach into the back pocket of her shorts and pull out handcuffs. She cuffed my hands behind my back. Then she turned me forward again, took the keys for my belt from around her neck, and unlocked it.

After stripping herself, she literally led me by the dick into the shower. I was already rock hard, feeling my heartbeat pulse through my member where her hand touched it. She started with herself, soaping down slowly, rubbing it all over her body. I watched hungrily, wanting her more than anything else in the world.

Then it became my turn. She began at my hair, shampooing and then conditioning it (I don’t usually use conditioner, but this didn’t seem like a bad time to complain). She soaped down my entire body, slowly rubbing the soap across my skin before rinsing it off. Through it all, she carefully avoided touching my cock and balls directly. I was going crazy, torn between wanting her touch there and the anxiety of knowing what would happen when she did.

It was pure bliss mixed with pure torture. Her soapy hands slowly and thoroughly washed every square inch of my cock and balls, then repeated it, repeating again. Then she lowered the shower head from its hook to rinse me off. She held the nozzle very close, moving it slowly back and forth along the underside of my dick and scrotum. It actually felt quite nice on my testicles, but against my shaft, it felt like a hundred tiny fingers teasing me. I could barely stand it and tried to move away, but she backed me up against the wall. Seeing how frustrating this was for me, she kept moving the shower head slowly along my length while I gritted my teeth and grunted in frustration.

Finally, the shower ended (I felt like I needed a post-shower recovery). Jenny towelled us both off (giving special attention to my genitals, naturally), then left me standing there as she turned back to clean my belt.

A shiver ran through me watching her do it. Suddenly, the thought of another day trapped in the belt, another day without cumming, seemed unbearable. I couldn’t go back into confinement; I simply could not.

I dropped to my knees on the bathroom floor. Jenny turned to me, surprised. “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 rested my head on the floor beside her bare feet, my hands still cuffed behind my back. “Oh god, please. Please, please, please. I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”

She bent down and took hold of my shoulders with her hands, pulling me up as she stood herself. Her stern expression softened into one of near sympathy.

“Now, you know the rules,” she said. “We can discuss your release from the belt, but only while you are still in it. Right?”

I nodded. I knew where this was heading.

clipped 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