Chaste (A One Week Chronicles Story)

This is probably the darkest of the One Week Chronicles story - Part 2 certainly is! - but I enjoy trying to find new ways to write and explore characters. I'll be very interested to know your thoughts on this one as it's probably the furthest from me, but was still huge fun to explore.

As ever, it slots perfectly into the timeline and happens before the very first One Week story.

Enjoy... Xxx

Louise

*****

Chaste

By

Louise Nichols

Prologue

Mandy leaned forward conspiratorially as Emma breezed past, barely noticing the three girls as they took their lunch break. Sat in the booth opposite the bar, they were far enough away from the burly security men that they could talk uninterrupted. Heather and Philippa took the cue and leaned in, their tight PVC dresses creaking as they did so.

"You all saw who brought in the two new girls?" Mandy nodded at Jade and Louise as they cleaned the bar and restocked the fridges.

"The evil looking one who keeps hanging around Dmitri?" said Heather. "I've seen her before, about a year ago, but this is the first time since." Philippa chewed her lip thoughtfully.

"Didn't she bring someone in for selling? Same as these two?" Mandy, eager to tell her tale, chuckled and drew them closer, sipping her Coke through a straw as she ordered her thoughts, a cheeky twinkle in her eye.

"Her ex-husband used to work in the same law firm I did. It was the talk of the office when it happened. I managed to get the full story from his secretary. Turns out, they were having an affair on account of Emma being a first class bitch. So, one day, Emma suspects that her husband, Mark is having an affair and hires a private investigator to spy on him..."

Chapter 1

Emma stared at the photographs in shock. She lingered too long on the explicit ones and threw them down in disgust.

"I'm very sorry Miss," said Ernest, eager to get his money and leave. He hated this part of the job and felt sorry for the beautiful woman who sat opposite him. She wore expensive clothes and jewellery and her house was opulent and well looked after with Spartan furnishings and an open plan design. She gave him a wan smile and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

"Thank you for your efforts," she said, fighting a losing battle to keep her composure. Handing him an envelope with the money, she ushered him from the house and collapsed behind the door as he left, great wracking sobs tearing through her body.

She cried freely and without inhibition for half an hour before gathering herself and heading for the shower. She had clients to meet. Another half an hour later, she left the house, no trace of her devastation evident.

Spinning from the drive in her Jaguar, Emma sped to her first meeting, not caring whether she committed any traffic violations and screeched to a halt outside a club near Soho. The clients were new and wanted her to negotiate the sale of their club. With a quick scan of her eyes in the mirror, she was satisfied that any red blotches and puffiness were gone and stepped from the car. She wore towering heels and strode with purpose to the door, ringing the buzzer that was set to one side.

Eventually, she was admitted and looked around in curiosity at the club. It was a fetish club and all manner of paraphernalia hung from the walls or were attached to racks on the sides. Despite herself, she felt a little thrill as she walked through the bar to meet the owners, who greeted her with a warm welcome.

Several hours later Emma sat in Jackie's office and laid out her plans for the club.

"The owners want to sell, but the buyer is dragging her feet. I'm telling you, we could buy the club and turn a tidy profit. I know you like that scene. With your inside knowledge and my business acumen, we could have a nice little earner on our hands."

Jackie, dressed in an expensive business suit, steepled her fingers thoughtfully.

"I'd say we need a few more partners, reduce the risk to ourselves. I'd prefer to be a silent partner too. I don't want any charities to get wind of my extra-curricular activities." She gave a devilish grin and chuckled conspiratorially. "Though a few of my clients would love a charity event at a fetish club! Half of them are more perverted than I could ever be!" She laughed at her joke and bade Emma follow her out of the office.

Taking the lift downstairs, Jackie threaded her arms into a coat and buttoned up the tailored garment. Emma did likewise with her own coat and followed Jackie out onto the street so they could get a coffee from the vendor who worked by the river. Sitting on a bench and cradling the warm coffee, Jackie watched the water in comforting silence.

"I love coming out here when I need to think," she said. "A hot mug of coffee, the river idling by and fresh air does wonders for the soul." Emma gave her a sad smile.

"You heard?" she asked. Jackie nodded.

"I did. You know how it is. Word travels fast." She lay a comforting hand on Emma's lap and gripped it firmly. "I'm so sorry. I'm here if you need me. Always have been and always will be." Emma thanked her and sipped her drink.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," she said. "Take him back? Get revenge? Carry on as normal?" Jackie gave a throaty chuckle and glanced sidelong at her old friend.

"The Emma I know will only do one thing," she said and Emma grunted in agreement.

"Damn right," she replied. "Damn right indeed."

Chapter 2

Mark returned from a long flight exhausted and hungry. Opening the door to his house, he tossed his briefcase on the side dresser and called out to his wife.

"Emma," he shouted, his voice echoing through the long corridors. Hearing no reply, he took out his phone and quickly sent a text to Mary, his secretary. A sudden noise made him jump and he saw a light switched on in the bedroom. Deleting his sent message and knowing Mary wouldn't send him one back while he was at home, he walked to the bedroom.

In his early thirties, Mark sported a well-groomed beard and slicked back hair. He used to cycle a lot, but had neglected himself over the last few years; his stomach was no longer flat and his short frame was ill equipped to handle the excess. Slipping off his shoes as he walked, he flicked them aside as he called out Emma's name again.

"I'm home," he said and entered the bedroom to see Emma had woken up and greeted him with a smile. In his tiredness, he didn't realise that it was a predatory smile.

"How was your trip dear?" she asked. As he spoke, she pulled up some pillows and leaned against them, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. It was early in the morning and she would need to get up soon.

"Oh, you know. The usual. Boring meetings and boring planes." He forgot to mention the part where he spent the first day at his secretary's house before flying out to New York.

"Indeed," said Emma and watched him undress and slip under the sheets with barely another word. He was asleep within seconds and Emma waited a few more minutes until the snoring started. He never used to snore, she reflected. It's the gut. He started snoring when he got the gut. She gave him a quick poke to make sure that he was asleep and was thankful for the first time that he was such a heavy sleeper. She could invite a thrash metal band into the room for a live gig and he still wouldn't wake.

Satisfied that he was asleep, Emma reached into her bedside cabinet and pulled out a velvet bag, the chink of metal drowned out by his snores. She'd seen the device at the fetish bar and the owner had been only too happy to hand it over as she finalised the deal to buy the club. An idea was forming in her head and she chuckled at the thought.

Taking the device from the bag, she pulled the two metal pieces apart. One was a cock ring, designed to go over the balls and the other was a metal cage, big enough to hold Mark's penis when flaccid, far too small to allow any kind of erection.

Lifting the sheets, she pulled down Mark's pyjamas and gave his tiny manhood a patronising smile. With sure fingers and precise movements, she looped the ring over his cock and squeezed the balls through. She then manoeuvred the end piece to the chastity devise over his penis and slotted the top bar of the ring through a hole on top of the cage.

With a loud snick, she locked the two pieces together, Mark's balls trapped between the two separate pieces that were now held together by a titanium lock. Smiling at her work, she leapt from the bed, glee in her heart and went for a shower. She knew he would be asleep for many hours so had plenty of time to do some work first.

Chapter 3 - Day One

Mark woke with a start. He had a painful sensation in his groin and reached down to scratch the area, his fingers coming against metal. In shock, he pulled aside the bedsheets and looked down in horror at the device he wore.

"It's called a chastity device," said Emma. She was sitting in the corner of the room, reading a book and waiting for her husband to wake. She put the book down and swivelled to face Mark.

"You've been a bad boy, Mark. A very bad boy indeed."

"What the hell is going on?" demanded Mark, anger filling the room.

"You can be as angry as you like, husband," replied Emma coolly. She plucked the photographs from the table and tossed them at Mark. They showed him in a variety of different sexual positions and he quailed as he saw them.

"Listen," he started, but Emma cut him off.

"You listen, you little shit," she hissed. "You signed a pre-nup with me. I file for divorce, you lose everything. I send the pictures to work, you lose your job." She gave a snort of derision. "The secretary? You're such a pathetic cliché. This time tomorrow, your white trash, working class arse will be on the streets begging for change."

"Please, Emma," started Mark, but Emma brooked no argument.

"I'm not interested in your grovelling. This is how it's going to be." She stood up quickly and strode over to Mark. She wore her tallest heels and towered over him, grabbing his caged cock and tugging it painfully. "This pathetic thing you call a dick? It's mine now." She brandished a key in front of him and laughed delightedly at her husband's suffering.

"You remove the padlock somehow and I file for divorce and release the pictures to your boss." She took out her phone and snapped a quick picture of Mark, terrified as he lay in bed with his manhood locked away. "And I'll send this to your friends as well."

She gave him a disgusted look and pointed to his expanding waistline.

"And get rid of that you slob. Why should I be the only one to make an effort?"

Emma gave him a sneer and left the room, leaving Mark reeling as she placed the key around her neck. He stood up and the first thing he noticed was the weight of the metallic device that clung to him. He reached down and turned it over, examining the chastity cage and realised within seconds that, without the key to the padlock, it wasn't coming off. Flaccid as he was, it wasn't painful nor uncomfortable; it just felt strange.

He debated whether to go to the garage and grab some tools to cut it off, but quickly dismissed the idea. He'd grown up with nothing and didn't want to go back to that. He'd seen the fury in Emma and knew that she would follow through with her threat.

He reflected for a moment on what had happened between them. He'd loved her once. She'd been kind and gentle and the gulf in class between them mattered little to her. She had been raised in an exceptionally wealthy family, with all of the privileges that had brought. Mark had grown up in a council estate in Kingston, spending fifteen years of his life in a run-down tower block that should have been demolished thirty years ago. He'd worked hard and used his intellect to better himself and his life, meeting Emma at a charity event that her friend ran.

They'd hit it off immediately. He'd been cocksure and witty and she'd never met anyone like him. Her parents didn't like him and he often suspected that it was why she had so readily agreed to marry him. Once they were man and wife, she changed. Or rather, she simply showed her true colours, no longer having to work on the relationship. As far as she was concerned, the hard work was done as soon as they were married. Mark felt that the hard work should never end and that a relationship required constant maintenance, but Emma rarely agreed with anything he said.

Several years later, he found himself lonely and unhappy. At a staff party, he spent the night chatting with Mary, his secretary and one thing led to another and a cliché was born. What Emma didn't see in those pictures was something she'd never be able to feel. Love.

Or maybe she did. He could never tell with her.

Mark let out a deep sigh and headed for the shower. In the bathroom, he looked at himself in the mirror and saw his manhood locked away. He felt a little scared but also realised that he deserved it. He was having an affair. If Emma hadn't threatened his career, he could have left there and then. Money didn't matter to him, nor did the trappings of a wealthy lifestyle. What mattered was being able to provide for Mary and Emma's intervention had scuppered that. Until he found a solution to his problem, he was stuck like this.

He saw himself properly for the first time in many years as he stood in front of the mirror and realised that Emma was right. He had let himself go. He wondered if Mary hated his gut as well. Deciding that he could be proactive on that front, he rummaged in his cupboard and dug out a pair of old shorts and a t-shirt. As he moved, the chastity device swung loosely but didn't fit between his legs properly. He searched for some tight underwear but realised that he only had loose boxer shorts.

An idea crept into his mind and he crossed the room to Emma's side. Opening her underwear draw, Mark spotted a pair of knickers among the silks and satins that he thought would do the job. They were a pair of cotton briefs that looked as if they'd never been worn. He fished them out and slid them up his hairy legs, using the tight underwear to tuck his metal cage more closely to him and prevent it swaying heavily when he moved.

Satisfied, he changed into the shorts and did some loose stretches before using the cycling machine for an hour, pushing himself and letting the sweat drip freely from his skin. As he moved, he constantly felt the metallic pressure against his skin, but he tried to push that aside for the moment and focus on something, anything else.

After a quick shower, Mark made his way to work, conscious at all times of his cage and paranoid that anyone would be able to see its bulge. Arriving at work, he was immediately called into his line manager's office for a debrief. He'd worked for Darren for many years and, though they had a good working relationship, had never been particularly close.

Darren closed the meeting with his usual clap on the shoulder and a declaration of "Good job!" leaving Mark to scurry to his office. Mary worked with four others just outside his office and her space was a central hub where other offices branched off.

She was stunning in a short skirt and sleeveless roll neck jumper. A thin waist and voluptuous curves, Mary was the epitome of class and elegance. She didn't get her job on account of her looks though. She was hard working, capable and quick to adapt. A few years younger than Mark, she worried constantly about her relationship with her boss. She hadn't told anyone and feared for her job if they were caught. She thought herself foolish and chided herself for being such a cliché.

She knew something was wrong the moment Mark dashed into the office space and called her over.

"Mary," he said, a little too loudly. "This way please." He darted into his office and Mary followed after him. The three other secretaries she shared a space with gave each other knowing looks. They didn't need Mary to tell them that something was going on between them.

Mark closed the door behind his secretary and quietly locked it so they wouldn't be disturbed.

"What's up?" she asked, a little nervous at Mark's crazy energy.

"She knows," he said. The colour drained from Mary's face and she put a hand to her mouth.

"Oh God," she said. "How? What happened" Mark rubbed his eyes in frustration.

"She hired a damn private dick. He took some pretty explicit pictures from when I stayed round last week before the flight." Mary felt her knees go slightly weak at the thought of being spied on and she reached for the chair. Tears formed and she struggled to keep her composure. Mark lay a comforting hand on her, but she shrugged it off.

"I knew this was a bad idea," she said. "You're a married man and I'm your...piece on the side, slut, mistress, homewrecker..." Mark knelt beside Mary and tried to calm her down.

"Hey, hey," he said softly. "You know our marriage has been dead for some time. I've just been trying to figure out a way for us to be together. This isn't some simple fling. I love you."

Mary raised her hand to him.

"I don't want to hear it," she replied. "Whatever we had stops here. I'm not having that woman spying on me and taking pictures. You get those images destroyed. You hear me? Fix your life. Either you're with Emma or you're a divorcee. There's no middle ground. Not anymore."

She stood straight, fixed her skirt and looked down on the still kneeling Mark. When she spoke, her voice was devoid of emotion.

"Is there anything else Mr Kelly?" Mark stared up at her for a moment, before rising to his feet.

"No, that will be all, thank you." She gave him a stiff nod and left the room, leaving Mark feeling alone and utterly isolated.

Chapter 4 - Day 2

Mark had a restless sleep. The chastity device was a constant weight on him. He liked to sleep on his front, but the device wouldn't allow that. Several times in the night, whenever he hit REM sleep, he woke with pain below as his night time erections were curbed by the device. It was a throbbing, ominous presence. Emma was a light sleeper and woke every time he gasped.

With a faint smile, she went back to sleep. She'd paid a few workers in his office and the gossip was that Mary had dumped him after he'd told her. All in all, she was satisfied with how her plan was progressing.

That morning, as Mark dragged himself from the bed, Emma tossed him a frilly pair of French Maid knickers. It was black with white ruffles around the edges and impossibly girly.

"Put these on," she said. He looked the knickers with sleep deprived eyes. She arched an eyebrow at him.

"You wore my knickers yesterday. I did you a favour and threw your old ones out and replaced them all with these. At great expense I might add." She stared at Mark, dominating him with her will and daring him to object. After a few moments, he picked up the underwear and stepped into them. She loved the look of his chastity device and felt the stirrings of arousal.

Interesting, she thought and smiled as he tucked the device into the knickers and pulled them tight. They fit perfectly and were deliciously sissifying.

"I look ridiculous," he said. "There must be another way to make it up to you, to get our marriage back on track. How about some therapy or counselling?" Emma took a moment to consider his words.

"You're right. They do look ridiculous. Your legs are far too hairy. Shave the hair and while you're at it, shave your whole body too." Mark made to protest, but she turned on her heels and left the room.

Mark watched her go and cursed the day he'd met her. He'd been devastated by the loss of Mary and didn't know where to turn to. His family were gone and he had no real friends, leaving Emma to torment him as she wished. He'd be ruined if he disobeyed her and wouldn't even be able to get somewhere of his own to live.