Your shopping trip with Ms. De'Boer is a depressing ordeal. You quickly discover that you're allowed no say in what clothes are bought for you. The beautiful, but bitchy assistant chooses a small selection of evening dresses and shoes from a prearranged selection. Even in the fitting room you have no privacy, as the woman insists on accompanying you and keeps up a barrage of snide comments as you try on the dresses. The only point in her favor is that she at least has a good eye for which clothes would look good on you. You watch the hateful bitch as you slip into yet another figure hugging designer dress. With long silky black hair and rich tanned skin your husband's PA is quite a beauty, her wide mouth with sensuously pouting lips and her high cheekbones give her an exotic sexy appearance. You wonder at her relationship between the sheets with your husband. Is he as cruel and domineering with her as he is with yourself?
With the choice of clothes made you return to the limo driven by a silent heavyset flunky. To your surprise instead of returning home the car heads away from the high class shops towards a seedier part of the city's retail area. The chauffeur parks up outside a small shop situated in a side street. Looking from the car you see the displays in the shops window feature fetish clothing predominantly made from leather and latex. Ms. De'Boer is smirking as she leads you inside and is quickly ushered into a backroom workshop by a sales assistant. A large man with tattoos and facial piercings greets Ms. De'Boer familiarly.
"So this is the subbie you want the belt for then?" the man asks looking you up and down appraisingly. "Nice piece of ass. Right, get your clothes off, I need to measure you."
You redden at the man's words, but keep silent and reluctantly obey his instructions. With no underwear having been given to you, slipping the dress off leaves you naked apart from your shoes. Following instructions from the man you move to allow him to take measurements. He measures your waist and measures from the top of your buttocks, down through the cleft of your ripe ass cheeks and between your legs back up over your shaven pussy to your belly. Showing no regard for your modesty the burly man measures the width of your plump mons and pinches and prods your soft flesh with his fingers.
"Nice fleshy sex lips!" he comments to Ms. De'Boer. "Makes a snug fit. You want to wait, shouldn't take long."
"Yes, I'll wait," Ms. De'Boer answers. "We want to get her fitted right away."
The man nods and sets to work with materials and tools on a workbench. Ignored, you watch the man skillfully begin to fashion metal and thick latex at his worktable. He uses the measurements of your crotch to cut a Y shaped section of steel wire and then covers this framework with a shaped piece of heavy latex. Next he fashions a strip of steel into an open ring and solders an intricate lock on one end. He comes over to your and slips this around your waist to check the fit. The cold circle of strong but flexible steel fits just above your hipbones. By now you've guessed the nature of the clothing that is being made. Your husband has ordered you to be fitted with a chastity belt.
Tears of humiliation well in your eyes and you become numbly detached as the man finishes his work. You seethe in silent anger until he announces that the belt is ready. The man is obviously an expert at this work and the finished article looks deceptively tiny and fragile. The waistband has been covered with black latex now and the gusset attached at the back. It has the appearance of a rubber thong with a small, but sturdy lock in the front. After inspecting it Ms. De'Boer holds it out to you and orders you to put it on.
You take the chastity belt, beneath the soft leather your can feel the flexible steel wire. You pull it up your legs and the latex covered wire pulls up between the crack of your ass. Ms. De'Boer has the keys and she locks the belt tightly in place. Two strands of wire go up each side of your pussy and press into your skin, between them thick rubber covers your pussy lips. You investigate the fit with your fingers and find that it fits so tightly that it's impossible to slip even your little finger under the belt. The heavy rubber covering your pussy presses against your flesh, feeling oddly arousing.
"There, that should keep your overheated cunt safely out of the reach of your little Latino slut's tongue and fingers," Ms. De'Boer gloats. "Should you need to use the toilet, both myself and your husband have a key. You'll have to come running to us and ask us nicely every time you need to go."
You nod submissively as though too humiated to answer. Inwardly, you defiantly remind yourself that you're . Though you'll need to wear this horrid belt to maintain your pretense of submission, the lock won't stop you. You're more determined than ever to carry out a robbery on the Sultan's yacht. |