Locked In
"You absolute Motherfucker!"
I stared down at the water, running fast beneath my feet. The bridge was high and the water was dark, but I looked anyway. There was no sign of the little silver key. Horrified, I turned back to the asshole who was standing beside me and smirking wickedly.
"Tell me you have a spare."
The look on his face was practically gleeful. "Nope."
"This isn't fucking funny!" I hissed. "How am I supposed to get this thing off?"
His reaction was to start laughing.
"Cut it out!" I snapped. "Do I look like I'm amused? You must have a spare key. Come on, hand it over!"
I held out my hand, absolute murder in my eyes, but he just shrugged, eyes still alight with humour. Then he turned around and left me there.
Oh God.
I felt my stomach twist as the magnitude of my situation sank in. The key that had just been flung over the side of the bridge and into the turbulent river below was small, designed to fit a tiny lock. A lock that was hidden right now beneath my staid jeans. Along with a chastity belt. I could feel it, tight around my hips and unyielding between my legs. It had been cold when I'd first been buckled into it, just this morning, but my body heat had warmed the metal.
It hadn't softened it, though. The damned thing wasn't coming off without the key, now lost forever, or some heavy duty equipment. Given that I didn't own any tools beyond a pair of screwdrivers - one Philips, one flathead - I figured I was screwed.
I started walking, because there was no point hanging around on the bridge and hoping the key would miraculously reappear like a leaping salmon, but also because panic was gnawing in my gut and I needed to move.
The town passed by in a blur as I ran through a list of friends in my head, wondering who might have the tools to help me and the discretion to keep their mouths shut about it. I could think of a few who might tick the first box... and not a one for the second.
I wasn't walking aimlessly, I had a destination in mind, and I arrived at the fire station with a sick feeling of resignation heavy in my gut. They rescued cats from trees, right? And they cut people out of cars that had been mangled in high-speed crashes. Surely they could deal with this... situation?
The large door that allowed the fire truck to speed off to emergencies was already open, a handful of firemen lounging about inside. I approached cautiously, eyes raking over their uniforms so I wouldn't have to look at their faces. Heavy duty fabric black trousers, reinforced again at the knee. Blue t-shirts with the fire service emblem stitched across the right pectoral. Braces, some of them pulled tight over shoulders, others shrugged off to dangle down behind them. My heart was going a mile a minute, and it took everything I had to lift my gaze and take in their faces.
At least two had noticed me, were eyeing me with a sort of disinterested curiosity. It was a third, an older man with salt and pepper hair and an air of authority, who spoke, though, catching sight of me out of the corner of his eye as I stepped into the cool shade of the station.
"Can I help you?"
I had to swallow hard before I could speak. "I hope so." I gave a wan smile.
He turned towards me, giving me his full attention, his brow furrowing slightly.
"What's the problem?"
"Got a pussy that needs attending?" someone snickered behind him.
There was a ripple of laughter until he twisted his head round to glower at the rest of the fireman. Silence fell instantly. He turned back to me and nodded at me to speak.
"I... uh, I've got a bit of a delicate situation," I managed. Humiliation roiled like nausea in my stomach and I thought I might throw up. I could feel my palms were damp... my palms, and somewhere else.
"You're going to have to give me more than that," he said.
My face flushed bright red. I wasn't sure I could get the confession out, but he was waiting. They all were, the whole group of them. Sitting there, watching me, while I stood there locked into a chastity belt.
"I... uhm. I was playing a game with my boyfriend. He's locked me into a... device, and the key is gone. I've got no way to get out of it."
I fluttered my hands around my waist as I spoke, indicating as best I could without saying it, exactly what sort of device I was trapped in. His eyes went there, zeroing in on my crotch.
"I see." Was that censure I heard in his voice. Disapproval? I imagined that it was, everything in me curling in on itself in shame. My clit pulsed hard at the same time, reminding me just what a filthy girl I was. "Come with me, we'll see what we can do to get you... sorted."
"I'll come, too," one of the other firemen said, standing up. Was it the one who'd spoken before? I wasn't sure. "You might need a second pair of hands."
"You'll sit your ass down," the older fireman said. He looked back to me. "This way."
I followed him to the back of the large garage and through a small door to a narrow corridor. He led me to a windowless, claustrophobic room with a table, a handful of folding chairs, and a whiteboard and some posters on the walls.
"This'll do," he said. "Give us a bit of privacy."
Privacy, right. Privacy was good. I stood in the middle of the room like a naughty schoolgirl in the Headmaster's office, burning with embarrassment even as adrenaline zinged through my veins. He took one of the chairs and sat down right in front of me.
"Show me what we're dealing with, then."
The weight of his stare was like a touch as I moved trembling hands to my middle and fumbled with my jeans button. I felt each tooth separate as I slid the zipper down, knowing he'd see the top of the chastity belt. There hadn't seemed any point wearing underwear over the thing. The metal was warm and smooth against my fingertips as I put my hands at either side of my hips and slid my jeans down.
I didn't need to take them off entirely, but I felt ridiculous standing there, with them tangled about my ankles, so I kicked them off, my sandals going with them until I was barefoot and barelegged before him. The room was chilly, and I felt the cool air at the back of my knees where nervous sweat had collected.
"May I?" he said, reaching out a hand towards him.
I startled, surprised, but he was hardly going to be able to get the thing off me without touching me. I nodded jerkily and he reached out and stroked a hand across the front of the device.
"I'd thought it might be a simple case of snipping off the padlock," he said. "But no padlock."
There wasn't. Instead, the T-bar front of the belt had a beautifully engraved lock. Gorgeous to look at, but problematic right now.
"If I have to cut the sides to get it off, you won't be able to use it again," he warned. "Before we do this, you're sure there's no spare key?"
"I'm sure," I said. I remembered Matty tapping the key against my lips after he'd locked the thing on me. Don't lose this, because there's no other way out. He'd attempted to tug the thing over my hips to prove his point. It definitely couldn't be slipped down. "But don't worry, I don't ever plan to wear this thing again."
He chuckled, tickling me as he slipped a finger between the metal band and my skin, testing it's strength and thickness.
"We've got a small pair of cutters, should be able to do the trick. Give me a moment and I'll go and dig them out."
"Thank you."
Somehow it was worse to be stood there in that room, alone and waiting for him to come back. I eyed the door, nervous someone else might accidentally - or deliberately - barge in, and I debated tugging my jeans back on, but I'd feel pretty silly having to take them off again when he returned, so I stayed as I was, shivering slightly against the frigid air, wondering if he was regaling the rest of the firemen with an account of what he'd discovered. How I really was locked into a fucking chastity belt of all things. And he didn't even know about the dual dildos attached to the belt - one in my cunt, one in my ass. I felt myself clench around them as I imagined his face when he was finally able to pull the belt free and he discovered its dirty secrets.
Fuck, he must think I was such a slut. All of them must. They were probably laughing about me right now, talking about how-
The door opened without warning and I wrenched my hand away from its creeping journey towards my clit. I'd thought I might just be able to sneak a finger beneath the metal, relieve some of the pressure, but instead I balled my hands into fists and tried to find the courage to look him in the face. I failed, gazing instead at the bolt cutters he'd brought back with him. They looked a lot like the shears my mum used to trim her unruly hedges, and I coughed a bubble of hysterical laughter.
"Don't be nervous," he told me. "These should do the job. Just... hold still."
"I'll try," I promised. I was shaking, the muscles in my thighs literally trembling. I tried to stem the movement, but my body ignored me utterly as the cutters came closer to my skin.
I gasped when he made contact, the metal cold and digging into me a bit as he forced between the device and my hip.
"Sorry," he murmured, his attention on what he was doing. "This shouldn't take long. And then you'll be free, okay."
I mumbled an agreeing noise, my gaze on his hands as they worked. They were strong hands, they looked capable. The fingers were blunt and thick and for a wild moment I wondered what they'd feel like inside me. Jesus.
I felt a pressure as the cutters bit into the belt, the a quick jerk and release.
"That's it!" he said triumphantly. "Got it. Hold still and I'll peel it off you, the edges might be sharp."
He put the cutters down on the table and then his hands went to me, his body coming much closer that it'd been up till this point. I stared at that emblem on his chest, then the top of his head as he crouch in front of me and pulled the cut edges apart, sliding the belt down my hips.
I drew in a breath as the dildos pulled free from their snug homes, saw him freeze for a moment as he caught sight of them. I waited for him to say something, but he just continued on, bringing the belt down to my ankles so I could step out of it.
"There," he said. He glanced at me, at my cunt right in front of his face. "You've a bit of chafing, but nothing that shouldn't heal in a day or two."
I watched in a daze as his hand lifted to touch one of those red welts, right at the crease where my thigh met my body. He ran his fingertips across it and it was like a zing of electricity, right to my clit. I gasped and automatically widened my stance... and he froze again, his gaze on his fingertips. I knew what he was looking at: my arousal, so copious it had wept to the edges of my thighs.
He looked up at me, and time stopped as a moment of understanding passed between us. Eternity passed as we stared at each other wordlessly. Without taking his gaze from mine, he reached for me again. This time, his hand delved deeper, going straight for my cunt and sliding unerringly between my labia until he found my clit. I was so soaked I could hear the sound it made as his rubbed two fingers either side of it, plying it gently.
I came immediately. I was so turned on that the pleasure surged forwards, overtaking me. I rocked, my toes curling into the cold linoleum flooring, my hands fisting into a white-knuckled grip. My vision hazed white for a moment, and when it came back to me, he was staring up at me, a small smile etched on his face.
I watched as he pulled his hand free and slowly, watching me all the time, licked his fingers clean. He stood up, and he was tall enough to tower over me, altering the dynamic completely. He was close enough now that when I took a deep breath in, my breasts brushed against his chest.
"Now," he murmured, the kindly, professional tone replaced with something much darker. "I think you should thank me, don't you?"
I didn't need to ask what to do. I dropped to my knees and reached for him. I could feel him, already straining against his trousers as I fiddled with the catch. My fingers were clumsy, but I got it undone. I pulled down the zipper and then slid his trousers and his underwear over his hips to the top of his thighs. The salt and pepper continued here, smattering across his groin. His cock jutted out proudly, red and engorged, the tip shining slightly with precum.
He didn't touch me, just stood and watched as I took a grip of his cock with one hand and laved him with my tongue. I worked my way up and down his shaft until it was glistening with my saliva, and then engulfed him in the heat of my mouth. He wasn't primed to detonate like me. Instead he let me work him, and I played with his balls and ran my fingernails lightly across that sensitive little bit of skin between them and his ass. I took him as deep as I could, then went back to licking and sucking lightly. I could blow a cock, because I really was a good little slut and I'd had a lot of practise.
I knew when he was getting close, his balls drawing up tighter to his body and his shaft thickening slightly beneath my lips, and I doubled my efforts, taking him deeper and using my hand to pump in quick little jerks. When he came, it was in a rush that spilled out of my mouth, and I moved quickly to lap it up before swallowing him down. I cleaned him properly, as I'd been taught to do, then carefully replaced his clothing.
Then I stayed there, on my knees, the taste of his cum still on my tongue, and realised what I'd just done. I glanced up at him, but I couldn't hold his stare for more than a heartbeat. Instead I fumbled my way to my feet and reached for my jeans and my shoes, tugging them on.
"Here," he said, when I was done. "Don't forget this."
That little smirk was back on his face as he handed me my destroyed chastity belt. I took it, the metal cool and heavy in my hand.
"Do you have a bag?" I asked. "Something I could carry it home in?"
The smirk became more pronounced. "No."
All right, then.
I walked through the station, out onto the street and all the way home with the belt dangling from my fingers, the twin dildos glistening slightly every time they caught a ray of sunlight - and it was a bright day. By the time I reached my front door and got the key in the lock, I was shaking with humiliation and exhilaration. I may as well have made the journey swinging a bell and shouting "Whore! Whore!"
The door opened before I had time to twist my key. Matty stood there, eyes warm as he took in my wretched state.
"How did it go?" he asked.
I couldn't speak. I just shook my head and he moved out of the way and let me enter the sanctuary of my house.
I got five paces in before I stopped dead. There, on the hall table, where I normally kept my car keys, was a single, small, silver key, identical to the one Matty had thrown in the river.
"You had a spare," I croaked.
"Of course," he said, coming up behind me and putting his hands on my shoulders. He reached down and took the mangled chastity belt from my numb fingers. "Honestly, I thought you were going to call red at the bridge. But look at you, you did it!"
He placed the belt down beside the key and I stared at them both, lost in a riot of emotions. Disbelief, anger, surprise... and pride. Because I hadn't chickened out. I hadn't called red. I did it.
"Was it everything you thought it would be?" he murmured in my ear.
"More," I told him.
"Good. Come on, I've run you a bath. Then I want to hear everything!"
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