Giles English writes steamy tales of Femdom, Male Chastity and Erotic Slavery. (And he likes lesbian flappers!)
Monday, April 16, 2012
So what's so good about my Chastity Planet?
I'm curious. Chastity Planet was supposed to be a personal project - it breaks all the rules for commercial erotica: it's SciFi, it has a complicated setting and so on.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Sorority party on Chastity Planet
So, there’s a girl’s hand on my bare thigh and there’s nothing I can do about it. A horrible sense of naked vulnerability makes my groin tighten. I’m not wearing underwear beneath my Roman-style tunic. However, no matter how far up her hand goes, her long nails aren’t going to find my genitals.
I’m on Vesta - “Chastity Planet” - in the university city of Minerva. I’m at my first sorority party. Like every other male in the room, I’ve got a flesh-toned chastity cup nano-welded to my groin. Most of them are here for the cheap education. Me? I’m here for a girl. But not this girl.
“Hey, Annmarie,” I say. “Off. Out.”
A catlike grin forms on Annmarie’s round face. Her hand leaves my thigh and I know she’s fondling my groin cup. I can’t feel anything, but my lost penis goes wild, trying to heave itself upright. “What you going to do?” she says. ”Slap me?”
I blush. The discrete transparent collar about my throat stops me doing anything violent. The best I can do is try to shuffle away and close my legs.
Annmarie’s hand catches my knee. “Besides. I’m your date.”
I could still pull away - I’m not entirely helpless - but her fingers are strong and her nails are sharp; a reminder that men aren’t really protected from assault on this planet.
I glance around the room. Surely somebody will tell her to quit petting in public?
Thanks to the dress code, everybody’s wearing a unisex white tunic. It’s supposed to create a classical sense of tranquillity to go with the college’s columns and portico's. However, away from the College Wardens, everybody’s behaving as if it’s a toga party. There are bare legs everywhere, some smooth, some hairy. Nearby, a couple neck on the couch. His hand is running up and down her thigh. I get a glimpse of her pussy, dark lips behind a blond frizz. The girls don’t need underwear here, but only the men wear the cups.
Annmarie’s breath is hot on my ear. “You’ve been here a semester. That’s three months without an orgasm.” Her tongue teases my ear-hole, setting off a painful throb in my groin. “I have an orgasm every night.”
“Good for you,” I shoot back.
“Want to help me?” she purrs and I have a vision of her soft flesh undulating in the dark. Annmarie is built for sex, and suddenly I wish we were on a different planet with different rules. Mind you, she’d eat me alive.
“Not much in it for me, is there?” I say.
She tweaks my nipple through the tunic.
I bite back a whimper.
“More than you think,” says Annmarie. “I have this toy…” She laughs. “You come from a conservative world, don’t you? You’ve no idea what I’m talking about.”
But I’m not really listening to her. I’ve spotted Naima. My Naima.
I didn’t recognise her at first. Tall, blond, with long legs tapering down to her strappy sandals she looks coldy elegant. A million light years from the girl next door back home. Naima crosses her ankles as she talks and a vise seems to clench my groin.
Annmarie whistles under her breath. “Oh. I can’t compete with her. Is she why you wanted to come to the party?”
I nod mutely.
The buxom girl laughs. “She’s why you came to Vesta, isn’t she? You’re just a big soft romantic.”
My cheeks burn. “Girlfriend,” I mutter.
“Ex-girlfriend,”says Annmarie. “But go on. This should be interesting.” She gives me a shove.
I get to my feet. Chastity cup throbbing, I pick my way through the jumbled bodies. I’ve rehearsed this moment for so long, worked out all the ways the conversation could go. I want her to know that it’s OK that she’s not ready for sex, that it always was. But I don’t want her to think I’m here for her - that would be too much pressure.
Naima’s blue eyes twinkle. “Hello Brett,” she says. She looks me up and down.
Again I feel naked, naked and stupid. “Hi,” I say and blush again.
“We have unfinished business,” she says. She stoops a little, tilts her head and kisses me on the lips. Her hands catch the back of her neck and her tongue slides between my teeth. There’s a wet pulse in my groin, and I feel dizzy.
“Come upstairs,” she says.
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