The week Chastity’s Chastity had been frustrating, Chastity had to admit, but not all bad. After George had come down her throat that first day, he had cuddled and kissed her, telling her how amazing she was. She’d dressed, gone to work, virtually forgot all about the damned belt during the day, gone home, fixed dinner, helped George with clean up, then, he would ask – not tell – her to strip out of her clothes. One night he had her lie before the fire and gave her a full body massage. Naturally, he asked her to push her tits together once they were good and oiled up. He’d made love to her breasts, taking his time, until she begged him to come, opening her mouth wide to catch as much cum as she could. She’d sobbed, needing to come so badly herself. He held her in his arms until she’d calmed, kissing her head.
“I know this is hard for you C, but you’re doing great. If you really hate this, I’ll unlock you, but I’d really like you to try to accept your own challenge. Can you do that?”
Sniffing, she murmured, “Yes. I’ll try.”
He’d kissed her soundly, then sat on the floor with her feet in his lap, rubbing and massaging them until she fell asleep.
The days continued to tick by all filled with frustration, much affection, and even more love. She learned that her “lady parts” were far from her only erogenous zones. My god! When George touched that ONE PLACE on the arch of her foot! Who knew the back of her knees could make her moan? She’d always know that she enjoyed sucking George’s cock, but she hadn’t known she could actually orgasm from doing so! When THAT had happened, she’d looked up at George, mildly concerned that her orgasm would earn her a punishment. Instead, George had laughed, congratulated her, and told her to continue.
Finally, the day came when George was to release her from the chastity belt. It was Monday, so she went to work as normal. When she got home, she sniffed. Roses. Garlic. Bread. She stepped into the dining room and stood stunned. George had the lights turned down low, candles on the table, and their fine china set out. He’d cooked his famous chicken alfredo with garlic bread and dozens of roses in vases filled the room. Glancing into the living room, she corrected herself. Filled the HOUSE!
George was dressed to the nines and stood holding out her chair. “Welcome home, C. I wanted tonight to be very special for both of us. Now, let’s eat first, then we’ll see how going a week without your puss being kissed reacts to my touch.”
Chastity dripped with excitement. Later, she didn’t remember eating a bite. All she remembered was George taking her to their secret room – also filled with roses – slowly undressing her, kissing every inch of her body. He carried her to bed and gently set her upon it, unlocked the belt, and blew gently on her clit. That was her first orgasm. George, in opposition to the week before, denied himself and focused only on her pleasure. He entered her slowly, gracefully making love to her, murmuring words of encouragement with each explosion. The lightest touch of him was enough to make her quiver. Only when she begged – BEGGED – him to come for her did he release his control and grant her wish.
He held her, lying on the bed, a big fluffy blanket covering them both. “You know how much I love you, right?” he asked.
She muttered, “yes.”
He kissed her head. “Good. But do you have any idea how much I respect you?”
She turned to look at him, smiled, and answered, “About as much as I respect you?”
He laughed and said, “You really are the most incredible woman I’ve ever know.”