My followup:
"Exempt From Restriction: Five Days Later"
Ekaterina hummed a pleasant tune to herself as she arranged the living room, her first day as a housewife after her honeymoon. She did not mind this life so much, she thought; her mother had taught her to be a proper lady of society, and that included making a comfortable home and life for her husband. This part of married life, she could enjoy. Even if others were annoyances at best. Finally she put her attention to what she’d been avoiding: the box in the corner, sitting unobtrusively and neatly packed.
She felt apprehension as she approached the box, but less than she’d expected. She took in a bit of a deep breath as she opened it, to gaze upon the bright steel chastity belt that had been her constant companion for three years.
She remembered all the pleas she had made for mercy, which had been thoroughly rebuffed. Even the occasional tantrum her mother had to shut down with a wooden paddle. Three years she had worn this device, locked on her waist at all times except for cleaning, when her mother would never let her out of her sight for even a moment.
She ran a finger across the shield. Such a thin piece of metal, to have denied her for so long.
She recalled her first experience — coming across the box in the attic and wondering idly what it might be. She was eighteen then, with her mother already worrying she would be an old spinster if not married soon. Then fantasies of youth of another time, thinking what a girl of marriageable age in a previous generation would have experienced being placed in such a device, willingly or not. And locking it upon her own body as an experiment, to momentarily feel what it must have been like, only to learn to her horror she had no means of unlocking it. When she had gone to her mother for assistance, she had been coldly informed that a girl interested enough to put the belt on was advanced enough to have to be kept in it. And so the years passed while she attended ladies’ finishing school and her mother arranged her marriage to Henri, a man of some considerable means in their village.
Her thoughts went back to that schoolgirl uniform in the box with the belt. Women of a bygone era, she thought. She remembered thinking a little too long about other women, too. Perhaps those thoughts were what also led her to deserve this?
But the belt was in her own attic. Had her mother once been subjected to such imprisonment? Was this why she was so strict and stern in its application? For the first time when thinking of her mother and the belt at the same time, she felt sorrow for the parent that had kept her chaste all this time. How many years had she worn a belt? How long until her marriage? Had her father, god rest his soul, kept her in it after marriage? Ekaterina shivered. Had he mother been belted all her life and only freed upon her father’s passing? Was this why it was so neatly preserved and ready for the next generation to experience severely enforced virtue?
But still, she realized. Such things were of the past. She had been free of the belt for five days now, and tonight would be their first night together in Henri’s home. No, she corrected herself. Not Henri’s home. Their home.
She had undergone her first sexual experiences of any kind over the course of their honeymoon. They had been … disappointing. She wasn’t sure what she had expected but tales of clumsy, awkward men were well entrenched among her peers and some of her mother’s more talkative friends. Apparently they had been correct. She had still not gone so far as to self-touch, perhaps mostly because Henri had been present at all times. This was his first day back at work at the brokerage, and her first true day to herself. She felt the twinges of desire for pleasure, but put them aside. The last time she’d thought about it ended with her belting.
Perhaps it was just as well that she’d accidentally belted herself. It tempered her anger with her mother at keeping an 18-year-old locked up while she arranged a suitable husband.
All these thoughts ran through her head as she held the band of the belt. But none of it mattered any more. She was free of the horrendous device, a bona fide married woman. So what if she didn’t particularly like Henri — many women made do with marriages they didn’t like. Her future was settled and she could let this belt collect dust in the attic until it was time for it to be used again, preferably on someone else.
She packed the belt back into its box, prepared to haul it upstairs. As she moved it, a piece of paper fluttered down. She picked it up. A note, in her mother’s handwriting.
“Henri:
By now you will be lawfully wedded to my daughter. Congratulations in your new life, and I wish you both well. Enclosed with this letter is a key whose purpose is now known to you. I am proud to say that your bride has never known the touch of man or herself, and is delivered to you pristine and pure. It has been the tradition of our family for generations that women be kept strictly belted until the moment their bridegroom takes his place in her life.
Now she is of your family, and future decisions must be yours. I will only counsel that you are the head of this new household and your word should not be questioned. Not by me, and certainly not by your bride. I leave this key and the belt in your hands as but one of numerous tools to carry out your leadership. Do with them as you will, and with my blessing.
Your proud new Mama.”
She was stunned to see all this in pure black and white. Belted for life, that was the endgame here. When she had first been locked up, she did not know how long her sentence would be. Had she known it would be three years, she would have been overwhelmed with the intensity of it. Knowing that decades in the belt may lay ahead of her? She could barely comprehend the misery.
She started to bring the box upstairs. Out of sight, out of mind, she thought. But just then Henri arrived, home early from the brokerage.
“Where are you taking that?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” she said, intentionally playing dumb.”It’s going to the attic. Now that we’re a married couple, we don’t need it anymore, unless we take it out for a game every so often.”
He put on a very head-of-the-household type of face. “Bring it back down. Sith with me on the bed.”
She did so, knowing what was coming. He had lifted up his chest a bit, puffed up to make himself look more important. Men, she thought. Never changing.
“I suppose you misunderstood, Ekaterina. The belt is not going anywhere. Our honeymoon is over. Now it’s time for you to go back into your belt.”
Even expecting it, she could barely believe what she was hearing. “But … why? I was pure for you for our wedding, what more do you need?”
“You swore a vow to obey me. I swore a vow to protect you. Wearing the belt is how you obey me and how I protect you. You need to keep wearing it from now on.”
“But … for how long?” Despite her best efforts, he voice took on a sense of desperation.
“Until I say otherwise, of course. You may be unlocked to clean yourself but only with a chaperone.”
She tried her best to control herself. “Please, I swear I’ll never cheat on you. You know I’m loyal.”
He pondered this a moment. “It’s not just about cheating, my dear. There is a saying among men -- a wife who does not need a husband for pleasure may as well have no husband at all. It is a disgrace to any man for his wife to please herself without his involvement, and the belt is a symbol of that fidelity as well.”
She took hold of his hand with both of hers, grasping it tightly. “Please, Henri. Please, I promise I will never do that. I have lived this long without it. I can continue for your sake.”
“Then why not accept the belt without question?”
Tears started to stream down her face. “You don’t understand, Henri. You’ve never had to live locked up in that horrible thing. It is a reminder every moment that you are less than a person, that you do not have the rights granted everyone else. You’re a prisoner every moment! It is hell to be locked in this belt, Henri, pure hell. I put on the best face while I was locked by my mother, but the only thing that kept me going those three long years was knowing I had a chance of one day being released by a loving husband.”
“I know. But it means so much to me,” he said. “If I asked you to wear it, for love of me, would you do it?”
Weeping, unable to look him in the eye, she shook her head no.
He laid his hand on his leather belt, folded up nearby. “And if I ordered you as husband and head of your household, would you obey?”
Tearfully she nodded. “Yes. Yes, Henri, I would. But I beg of you not to do that. If I ever get out of line, if I ever displease you, I will go into the belt without complaint. But please, give me the chance to show I can be a perfect wife.”
He thought about this a long time. She held her breath. She did not know if she would soon know the embrace of the steel belt or the sting of his leather belt or both. She’d never been severely spanked before. Her mother’s wooden spoon was a trifle compared to what he could do. She closed her eyes, knowing that the next moments would lead to permanent belting.
“All right,” he finally said, and she breathed deep relief. “But you must swear to me as my wife that you will never self-touch. And you will obey me in all other things, yes?”
“Oh, yes, YES, Henri,” she said, throwing her arms around him and weeping on his shoulder. “I will be the best possible wife for you, you’ll see.”
“Since you’re not going into the belt tonight, I can see right now,” he said with a smile, as he laid her down on the bed …
Days passed, then weeks. On occasion he called upon her for her wifely duties, and she obliged, though she was oddly uninterested in it. When he came home drunk, which was more and more often, he was even worse, clumsy and awkward but thankfully most of the time falling asleep before he could do much.
She had not expected married life to be quite this unhappy. Or this lonely. She took up a variety of social clubs to occupy her days while he worked. They were quite pleasant and added happiness to her day. Whiling away the hours with other creative women, whether it was knitting or social causes, filled her soul. Every so often she wondered if a woman would be better at pleasure than her husband -- they could certainly not be worse -- and caught a particular raven-haired beauty, with whom she shared several clubs, staring back out of the corner of her eye. Then they’d both avert their eyes shyly.
Every so often her husband interrogated her as to what she’d been doing. She didn’t like it, even more than she disliked his alcoholic binges. She was able to assure him that she spent her time only in the company of women, always with witnesses. She worried that sooner or later he’d pick up on her own wicked thoughts about women, thoughts that she had been taught since birth were morally out of line and unthinkable.
She thought about this as the time passed to two months. She still resisted the urge to touch herself; she took her promise to her husband seriously. That other woman began to fill her thoughts -- as did the belt. Did she miss it? Perhaps. It was easier to avoid self-touch when it wasn’t an option. And her husband had been right -- she was quite used to it. Maybe it was what she needed to find peace with herself and her husband. Or perhaps to give him a trust and security that would cause him to trouble her less.
She did something she had been putting off. She decided to call her mother.
After the pleasantries, she got to the point. “Mama, how could you have arranged this? Certainly you must have known Henri was irresponsible and a drunkard.”
“He is also a man of some wealth and an up-and-comer at the brokerage where he works. He is a good match. He will provide safety and security for you for the rest of your life.”
“Is that all there is?” Ekaterina asked. “Just this … drudgery? No love, no affection, not even pleasure in relations?”
“This has always been the lot of women,” her mother answered. “Do you think I loved your father? We had not even met when we married. But he provided and that is what matters.” Ekaterina paused, trying to figure out how to bring up the next point, but surprisingly, her mother broached it for her. “Has he belted you yet?”
“No,” she said. “He wanted to, but I begged him not to, out of love for me.”
“Hmph.” Her mother sounded vaguely disappointed. “Well, that is his choice. If he wants to run his household to please his wife, I suppose I must accede.”
This at least was the mother she was used to, the woman who had overseen her chastity without remorse for three years. Ekaterina decided to go for broke. “Was -- was the belt I’ve been wearing once yours?”
Her mother actually laughed at that. “Why, whatever gave you that idea, child? I suppose it is time for you to learn it the same way I heard from my mother. You couldn’t be wearing my belt because I’m still locked in mine.”
Ekaterina was silent for a long moment, unable to process it. “You still wear it -- even now?”
“Of course. My husband, your late father, was very strict and used the belt to keep control of his family. And when he left this world, the keys to my belt passed on to his brother. And when he passes, it will go to my nearest male relative. Most likely your husband, who will be responsible for my well-being when all others are gone.”
She was horrified. “You’ve worn that for thirty years? And will stay in it longer? How is that fair?”
“We are women, Ekaterina. To them, we will never own our own bodies. Such is the way of the world.”
“I don’t even understand, mama. Have you never cheated in all that time?”
She could hear her mother smile on the other side. “Not that THEY know of.” Mama took a deep breath, and continued. “Listen carefully, Ekaterina. Men are buffoons. Never forget that. They believe themselves master of their world and masters of us. There are many things they control, and many things they know. And there are many things they choose not to know if not forced to confront it.” Suddenly Ekaterina remembered her mother’s best friend, who sometimes seemed to embrace her too closely and too long. “You find your happiness in the cracks they do not know about.”
That conversation stuck with her for weeks. She pondered all the consequences, then made made her decision, and rolled it around in her head a few more days. This would not be easily taken back. She had to be sure. Then he came home drunk, again, and her decision was sealed.
The next night, on the three-month anniversary of their marriage, she arrayed herself carefully, virginally, in her wedding night lingerie she had worn with such anticipation and eagerness. She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. She had been so full of hope, and now she wished for that life back. Was this why her mother, and so many other women she knew, seemed so dissatisfied with life? She wished she could have married one like herself. But it was far too late to even consider bringing that kind of shame upon her family.
She made one foolhardy decision, knowing she would regret it but feeling she could not ignore the possibility. She laid herself down on the bed, alone and surrounded by sweet luxury, closed her eyes and indulged herself for the first time in her life. It was ecstatic and delightful, and she immediately resented having been denied this all her life — and now perhaps for the rest of her life. She would have to give it up in order to succeed at her goal. But it was worth doing, just once, to taste what she had been forever denied.
When he arrived he found herself arranged on the bed like their wedding night, the belt unwrapped and laid on the table. She had her speech well practiced, certain key words that would guide him straight into her intent. “Henri, I have been thinking about what you asked of me,” she said, taking him into an embrace. “I’m sorry. I have not shown you the respect for your authority that you deserve as head of the household. You want a perfect virginal example of virtue, and I wish to give it to you.” She took a deep breath. No going back now. “I am endlessly tempted to break my vow to you, my husband. I know now I cannot trust myself with my instincts. Please wrap me and keep me safe. I wish to live a life of virtue like my mother and her mother before her. Please lock me in my belt and keep me chaste at all times save when you wish to fulfill your own needs.”
She kissed him. She felt nothing. “Please, my husband. I think all the time about violating my vow. Lock me up, while I have the courage to ask. Take my womanhood in hand. Punish me, if you must. Show me how valuable I am to you.”
His eyes flicked over to his leather belt, folded neatly to the side, as did hers. When they met again she lowered her gaze. “Do as you see fit.” She closed her eyes, waiting for him to roll her over for corporal punishment. She had prepared herself for this. But the moment never came. Instead he guided her gently down to the bed.
“You are weak,” he said slowly. The first words he’d spoken. They were judgmental, but not angry. “You are a woman. It is to be expected. I cannot blame you for your weakness when I did not enforce proper behavior on you as I should have to begin with. It was always my job to care for you.” He opened the box and drew out the belt. “It is my fault that you have struggled with this temptation. So it is my job to lift it from you.” She lifted her bottom slightly as he slid it beneath her. She kept her gaze level with his as he drew the bands around her waist and between her legs, pulling the shield up snugly to meet the waistbands. She wondered if she would ever feel self-pleasure again. She was taking a terrible risk. He clamped the three together, inserted the lock, and it was done. She kissed him, whispered her thanks, and sank down to sleep.
He did not come to her for a few days. Perhaps he took her chastity seriously as well and wanted to see how long she would go without asking for his touch. A week, then too. She knew full well he was indulging in his own needs. Sometimes he did not even bother to try to hide it. Still she held out.
Then his drinking began again, and several days in a row he tried to have his way with her, only to be rebuffed by the belt. She responded to his predicament with amusement and reminded him of the importance of her virtue. She held out like this for a while.
Then one day, instead of gently taunting him when he was too fumbling to get past the belt, she lightly encouraged him to figure out the problem. And he did so, blundering around until he retrieved the key from its hiding place. One night of his clumsiness was worth learning that secret. She even made a point of reminding him to put it back in its proper place once they were done. She knew he would never remember the conversation.
The location changed everything; now she could indulge to whatever she wanted and never have it known. Perhaps she could even secretly make a copy and live the life she chose while he still believed himself to have a chastity-belted wife imprisoned at home. First things first; she had to have a little talk with that raven-haired beauty ...