Chastity

By DJ Black

The Omerod Wars had been dragging on for years now and no one knew when the armies would return from the Outer Belt. All of the best looking men, certainly of any character and standing had gone to fight and things were becoming very tedious at Court.

Clarissa thought it especially tiresome that her Cousin Marina’s husband, Count Baldur, should find time from the front on the excuse of dispatches to visit her. Why should Marina have some fun, albeit for a few days when Clarissa was left to her studies and perhaps dancing when Lady Seraphim permitted it?

At 24 Clarissa was still a dependent adult under Randall law and although considered beautiful and generally trusted, she was very much still under restriction. The restrictions of court were tedious and for a strong-willed woman, as she very much saw herself, it was sometimes unbearable.

 It had not helped that she had recently been caught in a dalliance with a maid and soundly spanked on the orders of Lady Seraphim. This has been bad enough, more than a small slip to be sure, but a single occurrence.

The spanking had been a long one, over Lady Seraphim’s knee and delivered with a hairbrush until Clarissa had been left sobbing and very, very sorry. Her bottom had positively glowed and she had been unable to sit down for a day or two afterwards. But at least only Lady Seraphim and Lady Conduit, her aide had been a witness to her shame and two hour vigil in the corner of Lady Seraphim’s chamber.

That had been bad enough, however subsequently she had been reported by another servant that she had carelessly indulged in self-relief. Dildos and vibrators were considered quite vulgar and employed with the utmost discretion, if at all. One was not caught in the act, not ever.

Lady Seraphim had been furious, not that she had indulged in such acts, but that she had been so indiscreet as to be caught. The spanking had been as public as her crimes, carried out by Lady Seraphim herself who had put Clarissa across her knee, bared her bottom and spanked her with a hairbrush like a child in front of everyone.

The spanking had been a long one and left her not only with a very, very red bottom, but bawling like a peasant girl and begging for mercy. The laughter had been cruel, half the court knew her for a brat and Clarissa knew she might be teased for weeks about it. Especially as she had been put in the corner of the main chamber with her red bottom still well displayed for the rest of the day.

When she had finally been sent to her room, and without supper, Lady Seraphim had whispered quietly in her ear, “I remember how it was when my own mother spanked me so, my sisters and I could not help but self-indulge… since you cannot be discreet you must be seen to be chaste by all. Matron will watch over you while you rest until further notice… if you are ever left to yourself then you will be the very epitome of discretion.”

Clarissa had nearly begged. But what was the point? Lady Seraphim was Regent and uncompromisingly strict. The only way to appease her was through outward submission. Then the very next day she overheard two maids talking. It had been Marina who had heard the rumours and reported her behaviour to Lady Seraphim.

It was a miserable few months and only in the last few days had she been allowed her privacy again. She still had a score to settle with Marina and despite all her scheming, bribing of maids and other tricks Marina had been left untroubled. To cap it all Marina had her husband and all that they might do alone together for the brief time they had. It was most vexing.

Then she heard a rumour that Marina had once been sweet on Count Baldur’s equerry, Martin Souse. Further, Souse had been ordered to remain at Court to liaise on behalf of the military. Clarissa was straining her brat brain for a way to exploit this titbit when she happened to chance upon Marina and Souse alone in a side garden off the main court. Innocent no doubt, but a small suggestion to a certain Lady Loon, the renowned Court gossip and carefully placed piece of intimate underwear in Souse’s quarters and…

“What is the meaning of this Lady Marina? Have you no decorum? A countess should be above suspicion,” Lady Seraphim challenged, this before the whole court.

“But I swear it isn’t true… we were just… I mean… it was only a brief conversation,” Marina protested.

Count Baldur was a tall man, much older than Marina, hair steel grey at his temples and ice blue eyes that missed nothing. He observed everything calmly and considered the politically astute thing to do. He did not credit the accusations for a moment, but outwardly he must be outraged, not with his wife, but with the accusations made against her.

“What man has suggested this?” he bellowed, “I will challenge them to duel.” He tried to keep a straight face, but the whole thing was utterly ridiculous.

“Please be calm Count Baldur, I take your point,” Lady Seraphim, “But appearances are everything, no rumour must go unchallenged and no opportunity for scandal to be permitted.”

Marina fell to her knees and begged, “What must I do to protect my husband’s honour and my own reputation?”

Clarissa loved every moment of the exchange. With any luck Marina would be sent to the House of the Sisters of Pain for the duration of the war. Bare bottoms were blistered at length on principle at their temples and even the highest women sent there were made to scrub floors with red welted and bruised backsides exposed as sign of penitence.

“Countess, you have no lovers, you swear?” Lady Seraphim asked.

“I swear it,” Marina said pleadingly.

“You have forsaken self-pleasure while your husband is at war?” Lady Seraphim demanded.

Marina blushed and cast her eyes at all who were watching, “Well… not formally, but of course it is true and I can undertake such a promise…” she sounded much less certain.

Clarissa knew that she might be discreet but had several willing servant girls for her pleasure when it suited her. She was no doubt thinking how to word any oath to keep her secrets honourably.

“Then I have a suggestion,” Lady Seraphim said.

“We would welcome it,” Count Baldur bowed gently and smiled.

“The Court has a Chastity Consultant, and all manner of devices can be deployed to ensure no breaches of etiquette are… explored, as it were, not while husbands are away. I suggest that as soon as you depart for the war and on your formal order that you consent for your wife to avail herself of such services.” Lady Seraphim had a steely look that dared anyone but object.

Marina gaped and looked in horror at her husband for any sign of a reprieve.

Count Baldur pondered for a moment and then shrugged. “I agree,” he said. He would be back in a few months and politically speaking this was the very best option. It also spared him a duel, which brought their own problems.

“Y-yes of course, wonderful idea,” Marina said with a fixed grimace.

***

“I think we’ve finally got the tension right,” the technician muttered, squinting through a magnifying lens.

The device was a curious piece of engineering. A smooth silver belt sculptured to Marina’s hips with a tapering leaf almost enclosing her sex. The topmost part of which capped her most intimate bud whilst allowing egress of any fluids. The technician spent half an hour on adjustments his fingers nimble and precise, and was seemingly oblivious to proximity of Marina’s most intimate parts, despite her extreme, mortification.

The technician stepped back, to consider his work, and nodded toward the woman standing stiffly in the centre of the room. Marina was stripped of her court gowns, wearing only a thin shift that left her trembling legs exposed to the sterile chill of the fitting chamber. The device, the chastity belt, wasn’t merely a lock; it was a sophisticated instrument of social and physical discipline. As light as its alloy was, it clung to her hips with an oppressive weight, the cold metal biting into her skin as the technician tightened the final strap with a remote key.

“The anal insert is calibrated for the same frequency as the external lock,” the technician explained, his voice devoid of emotion. “It provides a constant, tactile reminder of your husband’s authority and the Regent’s decree. Should you attempt to tamper with the mechanism or if the sensors detect unauthorized… activity… the device will notify the Matron immediately.”

Marina had a thousand questions but was too crushed by embarrassment to ask them.

“How does one… how does she…?” Lady Conduit, the supervising lady-in-waiting formed the delicate question.

“Urination is hygienic and unimpeded,” the technician said with casual vulgarity. “The anal insert is also very flexible and will allow an attachment to plug in at the rear; so to speak, this will take a tube to evacuate, somewhat enema style… well as is necessary, although it can be removed under strict supervision… I assume as it is usual before the court usually to preserve the integrity of the lady’s honour, eh, the removal part not the other…” he added by way of some reassurance.

Marina’s face was on fire. The anal insert, as the man glibly explained, was like a fist up her tail end and beyond uncomfortable. No doubt she would half get used to its physical presence, but never the shame of it.

“Why might it need removing?” Lady Conduit asked, “The Regent has ordered…”

“Medical emergencies are unlikely but not inconceivable, also any chastisement may require more room to operate, should that be necessary,” the technician explained.

Marina’s gasped as the technician gave the device a final, experimental tug, pulling her posture into a forced, rigid arch. Every small movement now felt like an admission of defeat and she felt an overwhelming sense of exposure, despite being covered by the shift, knowing that the secret of her mechanical bondage was now a permanent, fixture of her anatomy.

As she was led back to her chambers the internal weight remained an oppressive anchor. She had barely crossed the threshold of her bedroom when the door clicked shut, and there stood Clarissa, leaning casually against a mahogany vanity with a look of predatory satisfaction. Clarissa didn’t say a word at first; she simply let her gaze wander slowly down Marina’s frame, imagining the intricate, locking machinery hidden beneath the linen.

“It was you,” Marina snarled “You set me up for this.”

Clarissa merely smirked.

“Set you up? Such a vulgar phrase, Marina,” Clarissa replied, her voice dripping with a simulated sweetness. She pushed off from the vanity and circled her cousin slowly, the silk of her own gown whispering against the floor, “I prefer to think of it as helping you align your outward behaviour with the Regent’s expectations. You’ve always been so… impulsive. Now, you have a wonderful piece of engineering to keep you centred.”

Marina tried to step forward, intending to strike Clarissa’s smug expression, but the sudden movement caused the restricting band around her waist to cinch. She let out a small, stifled gasp, her hips jerking instinctively. The device’s internal sensors reacted to the sudden spasm; a low, vibrating chime emitted from the belt, sounding like a tiny, judgmental bell. The sound echoed in the quiet room, a sonic announcement of her restricted state.

“I will protest to the Regent, once she hears about this…” Marina wailed.

Lady Conduit, who had not been seen by Clarissa, stepped forward, “is this true Clarissa?” she demanded to know.

“I…I… Lady Conduit, I think you misunderstood what I was saying…?” Clarissa started to panic.

Lady Conduit did not raise her voice, but the stillness that followed Clarissa’s stutter was more oppressive than any shout. The older woman was the living embodiment of the Court’s invisible machinery, the one who knew every secret, every hidden debt, and every illicit encounter before they had even occurred. She didn’t look at Clarissa with anger, but with a clinical, detached curiosity, as if she were observing a particularly interesting specimen of insect.

“The misunderstanding is not mine child,” Conduit replied softly, “The Regent shall hear of this at once.”

The walk to the Regent’s solar felt like a funeral procession, though only Clarissa was mourning. Lady Conduit didn’t need to hold her hand; the sheer weight of the woman’s disappointment acted as a leash, pulling Clarissa forward in a state of mounting dread. Beside her, Marina walked with a stiff, rhythmic gait, her belt now a constant addition, a metallic edge slicing between her legs and chafing slightly.

Marina didn’t look at her cousin; she simply stared ahead, her expression unreadable. The tables had turned with a speed that left Clarissa breathless, and the sudden realization that her own ‘discretion’ was now under the microscope made her stomach churn.

Lady Seraphim was not sitting when they entered. She was standing by the floor-to-ceiling viewport, watching the distant flickers of transport ships departing for the Outer Belt. She didn’t turn around immediately, but the set of her back and very poise suggested she knew something was afoot. Finally, the Regent pivoted, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Clarissa. There was no fury in her expression, only a chillingly calm sense of order.

 “It has come to my attention,” Lady Seraphim began, her voice a low, melodic hum that carried a lethal edge, “that our dear Clarissa has spent her own leisure time acting as a playwright, scripting scandals to suit her personal amusement. Tell me, Clarissa, do you find the lives of your betters so tedious that you must invent dramas for them?”

Clarissa’s knees trembled. She tried to maintain a facade of poise, but the heavy silence of the solar was crushing. “I only wished to ensure the court’s standards were upheld, My Lady,” she whispered, though the lie tasted like ash in her mouth.

“Oh, is that what it was all about?” Lady Seraphim’s smile was ice on her lips yet burned in her eyes.

“W-well y-yes, of course… I…” Clarissa began, not at all reading the room.

“Can I suggest, for your sake, the sake of your already doomed and oh so tender backside and above all for the sake of the dignity of the court that you remain silent and spare us anymore hypocrisy?” the Regent intoned.

Clarissa opened her mouth to protest but thought better of it and dipped her head. The skin on her bottom grew tight and itched; this was going to be bad, very bad.

“I trust we can dispense with a formal investigation and a trial, will you accept my award?” Lady Seraphim said.

Trial, charges? Clarissa baulked. Her panicked expression was wide-eyed and she nodded vigorously, surely just a prank, she wanted to say. She was out of her depth.

“You have brought the honour of the court into disrepute, you have impugned Lady Baldur’s honour, you have interfered in the marriage of a person of standing, and you have fermented perjury, need I go on?” the Regent accused.

“No,” Clarissa squeaked.

“Are you sure, because I have sent more than troublesome noblewoman to the House of the Sisters of Pain… and I may send you yet and I will if there is to be a trial?”

Clarissa’s horror was a shout on her face and she felt herself falling.

“You accept these charges and accept my judgement?”

“Yes,” Clarissa embodied meek.

“In a moment, here and now I am going to put you across my knee and spank your bare bottom in front of everyone for the brat you are,” Lady Seraphim told her.

There were snickers and Marina smirked. Clarissa went white and then the snowy visage melted as it flooded with yet another sudden deluge of strawberry. It couldn’t get any worse, she thought, suddenly disregarding the threat of criminal incarceration she had only moments before escaped.

“Tomorrow will you receive a formal thrashing on your naked bottom, down in the courtyard, I guarantee you the maximum number of strokes usually permissible…” the Regent announced.

Clarissa gaped and looked around for any sympathetic face or anyone to whom she could plead mercy. She was about to beg when Lady Seraphim continued.

“…thereafter you will be fitted with a chastity device of long-term construction. Given your recent proclivities, and the circumstances you have caused to be visited on Lady Marina I feel it only just. In your case it will remain on your person indefinitely or until you have a husband who can authorise its removal…”

“B-but that could be years,” Clarissa blurted.

“Well quite,” the Regent said with a tone of finality. She knew she could always relent later, but the girl didn’t need to know that and she definitely needed a long lesson.

“B-but please… please Aunt… I mean Ma’am…” there were tears now and she was on the verge of begging for a dozen public floggings instead.

“I have not finished,” Lady Seraphim raised her hand, “So long as you remain unmarried, whether under chastity or not, you will be in the charge of Marina, the Countess Baldur, who is not only permitted to spank your bare bottom at will and as when she deems it necessary, she will be required to spank you soundly and upon your bare bottom no less than once every five days.”

Clarissa gulped and shot a glance at Marina who stood demurely but with barely supressed smile dancing her full sensual lips.

“And my Lady,” Marina said, “Might I have this device removed now?” She could already feel the relief.

“I am afraid that the honour and condition of the imposition of the device means that you must retain it until your husband returns and authorises it himself,” Lady Seraphim did not sound particularly regretful. “I mean you do not need to have it removed until then do you? Not according to your honourable undertaking.”

Marina went to protest and then winced. “No, of course not Ma’am,” she groaned. The look she gave Clarissa warned the girl that her bottom was in for a very difficult time.

Clarissa quailed and wondered if she could still run and choose exile. Then she remembered the House of the Sisters of Pain and thought better of it. In any case the Regent beckoned her with one finger and Clarissa cringed in dejection. With slow plodding steps she edged forward and allowed herself to be tipped across Lady Seraphim’s lap.

“This is ridiculous,” Clarissa muttered as her skirts were turned up and her underwear lowered. There were giggled at this and even the guards were smirking.

“Yes it is, embarrassing too, but you will submit if only for my personal satisfaction,” Lady Seraphim told her as the palm of her hand menaced Clarissa’s bare bottom.

“B-but Auntie, a public flogging and… and the other thing…” the girl was on the edge of tears.

“Appearances are all at Court, officially your flogging is your punishment, the very least I could give you… the other is needful given your recent behaviour and to show solidarity with your cousin who is setting an example to us all,” Seraphim squeezed Clarissa’s bottom with some satisfaction.

“But… you don’t have to let her spank me as well,” the girl whined

“Oh, but I do,” her aunt said with relish and her hand spanked south, “As you well know it.”

Clarissa yelped; the first of many outbursts as the stinging hand polished her bare bottom to a glorious cherry red. As the spanking proceeded she could not help but kick her heels in reaction to the growing bottom burn and the court laughed at the comic display. “I will never live this down, never,” she sobbed.

“Of course you will, I did,” Lady Seraphim whispered, “Although it took a few years,” she added mischievously.

The revelation was of little comfort just then, but she would return to it later, much later. Then any hopes that this was a token correction were dashed as the Regent’s hand rose and fell ever harder and ever faster and for quite some time.

***

Clarissa approached the open courtyard with a mature solemnity. A state of mind helped by the persistent soreness of from the previous day’s spanking, that red bottom now reflected in her face as she approached the block set in the middle of the yard’s paving. She wore only a light dressing gown over an apron that was secured at her neck and waist, but once stripped of the gown would do nothing to hide exposed bottom behind.

There were two executioners, as they were called, huge men with exposed chests and muscles like gladiators. They both held long paddles with striking surfaces twice that of a man’s hand, and twice as flexible. The leather heads were stout but yielding; ready to blast and burn, but not break skin or cause deep bruises.

Clarissa nervously licked her lips and took slow breaths in through the nose and out through the mouth as she forced herself into calm. No one was laughing this time and her dignified response would collect a little sympathy and be regarded with honour. No matter that she wanted to beg to Lady Seraphim, but she couldn’t. It was irksome too that she usually enjoyed such spectacles.

“Lady Clarissa ne Seraphim, you are sentenced to double 40 strokes for your sins,” the chamberlain announced.

For her sins, not crimes, Lady Seraphim had shown a small mercy. Still her heart raced and her tummy tumbled as if she were falling.

As directed she dropped the gown to her ankles, revealing her naked arse to all behind her, then she solemnly knelt on a leather pad before the block. The hard leather pressed at her knees as it took her weight. Then, with a deep breath, she bent right over the block so that her bare bottom mooned upper most at right angles to her thighs and her head was down so that her face pressed into the floor.

She had been spared the rods, but the two large men would paddle her 40 times each with alternate strokes at a steady pace for over two and half minutes; an eternity under such extreme chastisement.

“You may begin,” the chamberlain called out.

Each executioner patted her proffered bottom thrice and the lead man brought the paddle in a wide arc and swatted it down with a blaze.

Clarissa grunted and thought it bearable, but only for a brief second. The sting grew and became a burn in moments. Still she held her peace.

The red stain took a moment to bloom and then fully flushed as the assembled people muttered and mumbled.

The next swat came from the other side perhaps five seconds later. Again Clarissa grunted and this time hissed at the following burn.

This continued for a minute, by which time her bottom was a fiery red and she was panting like a dog in summer. There was no pause, no let up, just a relentless rhythm of pain. Her arse felt like it had been caressed with flaming sandpaper and she truly began to struggle.

The rhythm became a blur of white-hot agony. Each strike didn’t just land; it seared, the heavy paddles driving the heat deep into the muscle of her seat. Clarissa’s composure waivered around the twentieth stroke, but there was no escape from the blows, the executioners were professionals and her bottom was served up and delivered to their punishment. As needed they adjusted their aim with cprecision, ensuring every square inch of her flushing flesh was evenly addressed.

Time ceased and her world was measured by the whistling arc of wood and leather through the air and the explosive thwack that followed. Her bottom felt swollen, a throbbing mass of heat that seemed to radiate through her entire lower body.

The 30 or so stroke swatted her and she began to break. At the next Clarissa screamed, she could do naught else. There after she yelled at each swat and began to cry hard.

Finally it was over and for a long minute, Clarissa remained draped over the block, her chest heaving, her bottom a pulsing, iridescent crimson that seemed to glow against the block. She was shaking uncontrollably, the aftershocks of the punishment rippling through her limbs. She didn’t dare move; she felt as though the slightest shift in position would cause her skin to ignite once more.

She was sobbing too, tears in freefall as she sobbed like a child. There was some applause, but for her or the executions Clarissa doubted if they even knew. Mostly it was for relief that the spectacle was over. No one laughed now at her misery.

“Bring her inside,” someone said.

***

The chastity technician eyed Clarissa’s red raw backside with a professional eye. “That is no obstacle,” he said, “But it will be more difficult for the girl for a few days.”

“Get on with it,” Lady Seraphim told him.

Clarissa lay face down on a couch chewing her lip. There was no way she would be sitting, not for quite a while she guessed. Her bottom burned and throbbed and she prayed that she never got that punishment again.

“Now am I to understand the girl requires indefinite chastity, perhaps with longevity possibly measured over years rather than weeks…?” the technician pondered aloud.

“It may come to that, yes,” Lady Seraphim agreed, “I want that option.”

“Then although a little more expensive I suggest the automatic deluxe liquid metal chastity belt. A semi-permanent arrangement at the waist with a fluid extension that ‘melts’ over the pubic region and insinuates itself between her bottom cheeks from the front before it nestles into her anus: a self-cleaning full thrust that is fully adjustable. It stimulates, continuously if required, if you take my meaning, but can be set to… chivvy a girl up shall we say?” the technician paused to let his words land, “ It has ten settings of intensity and ten of probing depth, independent of each other. At a tap on the remote the phallic projection can retract to allow full access…for the usual or any other purpose.” He explained.

“Other purpose?” Lady Seraphim said quizzically.

“Well I see she is a handful, the bottom can be fully bared for a spanking at the touch of a button on the remote. And of course she cannot perform the usual functions unless she is released…”

Lady Seraphim weighed this up and considered that contraption as demonstrated, but she thought that it left a small but real access to the girl’s sensitive parts where she could gain relief. She raised this delicate question.

“Oh, oh yes… well you see the… well her intimate bud will be capped with this model. This is a semi-permanent arrangement that prevents any stimulation whatsoever. Although an auto stimulator function can be added… if that is required…” the technician was altogether too clinical in Lady Seraphim’s view.

Clarissa’s jaw dropped, they could not be serious. She had assumed that the threat of chastity was an imaginative correction for the next month or so. This device as proposed would curtail most of her private hobbies and then some, and by the sound of it, for a very long time.

“Fit one and we will see,” the Regent agreed.

“Lady Seraphim, please if I may…” Clarissa babbled.

“Clarissa, be quiet,” she was told, “Anymore trouble for you and we will revisit the House of the Sisters of Pain option.”

Clarissa bit her tongue.

The fitting was easy and quick. What seemed to be a strip of metal fabric wrapped around Clarissa’s hips had settled quite comfortably. The technician prodded, heedless of his finger proximity to her bare bottom and she hid her face with her hands.

“Please turn over,” she was told.

Clarissa gaped and shook her head in denial.

“Think of me as a doctor,” the technician said.

Lady Seraphim gestured for Clarissa to obey, and the girl wanted to weep. In fact she almost did when her sore bottom touched the couch as she rolled over.

“Legs apart luvvie,” the man said.

Clarissa was horrified and only a stern look from Lady Seraphim made her comply. The man then reached for a small vile and allowed a drop of what appeared to be mercury drip onto her sex. It was cold and it tickled. Then like a living creature it rolled along and through the forest of fur there to her most delicate centre of her womanhood. There after a brief but thrilling touch, wrapped itself around her clitoral bud forming a semi-hard bead in that place.

Clarissa gasped and grabbed her sex and rolled back over. The surge of arousal passed and she saw at once that no other would be possible while the metallic bud covering remained. “Take it off, please, you can’t…” she begged.

The technician pressed a button and the whole belt came alive like a snake and melted over sex to ensconce itself between her buttocks and deeper still.

Clarissa gasped, her eyes bulging wide. “Oh my God,” she panted, “It… it… ahhh,” she went practically cross-eyed.

“There,” the technician said and handed Lady Seraphim the small remote, “Done.”

“I shall give this to Marina,” the Regent said, “I will tell her you are both quite protected now.”

Clarissa clawed at the belt and saw it was immovable. “You bastard, get a proper job,” she hissed.

The man grinned, her reaction was to be expected, but husbands usually paid well.

Please let Count Baldur come home soon, she prayed, and please let me be forgiven. She knew then that it was going to be a very long war.