The Chastity Project - Chapter Two

Theres visited me before Cathy and her friend left, so there was crossover between them. I don’t really think they got a lot of time to talk to each other, though. Cathy and her friend were very independent and I barely saw them through the day.

On their one and only full day in town, Edinburgh had some incredible weather. The entire summer was condensed into one single afternoon and I spent most of it with Theres. I had to put in a shift at a charity about sexuality and drug awareness that I volunteer at — and she joined me for that. But afterward, we went to the Meadows, where we hung out with some of my friends and tried to cope with the heat.

It was a great day. Sitting around in the sunshine with some very cool people and getting to know my latest guest. I tried to get Cathy to join us, but I don’t think she received the text I sent.

Theres and I didn’t get started with The Project until the very next day.

It really didn’t run smoothly with Theres at all. In fact, it was downright strained and stressful on more than one occasion — and ultimately led to a very tense showdown on her final day. It definitely highlighted a couple of the flaws in the concept, which gave me some stuff to think about for the next time.

We did not establish enough of the parameters of the relationship before we got started. Which meant that Theres seized far more control than I ever intended for her to take. We started out as equals — as friends — on that first day in the Meadows. We had great conversations, we laughed a lot and we really got on well. But from the moment she took charge of the key, the nature of the relationship changed. She viewed herself as a dominatrix and myself as a submissive and she ran with that. I did not see it going this way and did not intend for this to happen. But rather than simply bring everything to a halt and reopen discussions, I went along with it.

One day, she told me I wasn’t allowed to look at her — I had to look at the floor. Just for a moment, we had a bit of a standoff, while I thought about openly defying her. But then I shrugged and did it because I was also curious about what she would do with the authority she was in the process of claiming.

The dialogue in my head had a couple of connections. I hadn’t offered her this much authority. I had given her the key to a chastity device, so the authority was limited to that area. Control over periods of freedom... and by extension, control over my ability to get an erection... and by extension, control over my ability to orgasm or ejaculate. But I realised there was a further extension to this. Any man who wanted permission to ejaculate was always, potentially, going to have to earn that permission. And so the authority and control, while being a partnership, still resided with the keyholder. There were consequences. And I was suddenly coming up against the consequences.

This does not mean that it was a failure. In fact, in a couple of key ways, it was a definite success. I had always thought that a proper keyholding relationship would have some difficult moments, as the keyholder started learning how to flex her muscles. Theres was definitely doing that. And if I rebelled at the first difficult situation, then I really wasn’t giving her — or The Project — a fair chance.

But the relationship had definitely changed. And not necessarily for the better. The cameraderie was completely gone. There was still banter, but there was a lot less of it than before. Moments of playful interaction would be cut short, because she would put in restrictions that hadn’t been in place before. And when this happened, I would come very close to open rebellion and there would be a tense standoff while we each stood our ground — and then I would accept her authority.

One particularly tough moment came when we were about to have something to eat. She told me she wanted me to sit on the floor, by her feet. Once again, I weighed up the options in my head.

This order genuinely pissed me off. It had moved a long way beyond what I’d had in mind. She was enforcing a role of subservience — of inferiority. She was creating a whole new power dynamic.

But when I considered it, it didn’t really seem like that big a deal. It was only the floor. So I sat at her feet and ate my food.

We also started noticing some practical issues with the two devices. When worn over a long period, the Bon-4 started to chafe a bit. I observed a couple of slight bits of rawness and pointed them out to her.

She had complete confidence with the amount of physical contact that would be required. If she wanted to look at my penis, she would grab it and take a proper look. She knew I would get hard, and I’m confident that she was delighted at how quickly I responded. I asked her at one point, if she was getting off on those moments of power, and she told me she enjoyed them, but they didn’t turn her on — at the time. Later, when she replayed the moments, she got more pleasure out of them.

So she examined me and passed her verdict. The chafing was minimal and wouldn’t get in the way of me wearing the Bon-4 for a second day. I was allowed to leave it off for the rest of that evening, but it went back on before I went to bed.

The following morning, there was another inspection. And this time, the rawness was a bit more pronounced. So after a conversation, we decided that we needed to switch between the two devices. The Spiral by day, the Bon-4 by night. A great plan — except for when I got an erection. And she delighted in getting me hard, then watching as I squirmed in discomfort as my cock came up against the metal bars.

That night, the latest inspection revealed some minor bruising. And she gave me a choice. I could wear one of the devices, or I could submit to being tied into my bed all night. I thought about it for a long time, before I answered — and once again, I considered bringing the whole thing to an early conclusion. But this... this was something new. I was genuinely intrigued by the concept. If I went with it, it would be an intensely uncomfortable night. And it would be genuine domination, in a very physical and psychological way.

I submitted to being tied up. We used a pair of leather wrist cuffs I had, so there would be no risk of circulation problems and she used ropes to secure the cuffs to the bedposts. Then she covered me and went to her own room. I didn’t sleep well. I dozed sporadically, that night.

The following day — inspired by the bondage — I got her to tie me up for a photographic project. She got me to lie face down so that she could hogtie me — but she made me put on the Spiral, first. She knew that I would be lying on top of it. That it would increase my discomfort. Once again, I agreed to her conditions.

I didn’t rebel until her final morning. We had developed a morning routine, where she would watch me shower and clean myself. But then she told me to turn the water down to its coldest setting and to stay in the shower. And that’s when I’d had enough.

I made a half-hearted attempt to follow her orders, but I knew — even before I started — that I’d hit my breaking point. I refused. She insisted. There was a standoff. And then I turned the shower off, strode past her, walked to my bedroom and lay on the bed. And then I started masturbating. Quite possibly the most surreal moment of defiance I’ve ever performed, but it was a very deliberate and calculated act. I was telling her the partnership had just concluded.

She followed me through and told me to stop. I told her that if she wanted to stop me, then she was going to have to physically stop me. She told me that if I didn’t stop, there would be consequences — and that surprised me. What consequences could she impose if I rejected her authority? For a while, I kept masturbating.

In the end, the reason I stopped was that I still wanted to see this to the end. So I stopped masturbating and put the Spiral back on. I voiced a couple of my grievances with her — and she voiced a couple that she had with me — and in the end, she told me she was going to take the key with her when she left. There was a spare one, frozen into a glass of water in the freezer. I could use that to unlock myself with, later — I’d only have to wait about twenty minutes. We parted on, more or less amicable terms.

I didn’t try to masturbate again, for the next few days. The accumulated events of the past few days had left me feeling a bit too bruised. I knew I wouldn’t enjoy it.