RetroXotique

As ever questions were running through my mind! Was I really doing this to myself? What if my ex decided that I was never to be let out? What if I'd flown to Paris rather than used the train?

We warmly greeted each other and she motioned me to the only free chair in the workroom. 'Sit there, whilst I get you a coffee!' There was no hint of a question! She believed she knew what her clients wanted in all things!

'Do you want me to phone Jean now?' She held the phone up with her finger poised ready to dial. 'He can be here in five minutes! You have to be sure!'

I was totally sure, despite all the apprehension. 'Yes!' The words hardly came out of my mouth, so I repeated them and nodded a couple of times to confirm!

*****

Jean was not the sort of person I had expected.

I suppose to be truthful I had no idea what sort of person to expect, but I hadn't expected a shortish, slim, bespectacled man with impeccable manners in his late-twenties or early-thirties, dressed in a dark grey suit. He looked more like a man who worked with his brain and a computer on facts and figures, rather than with his hands on steel.

He welcomed me in that romantic way that only Frenchmen and other Latins use with ladies they know! Or in my case don't! Others can do the same, but seldom do! He then sat beside me on a stool balancing a black coffee in his hands, with a copious black leather bag sitting very ominously at his feet. Under gentle prompting from me, he started to reveal the relevant parts of his life.

He'd studied a lot of history at University and on graduation, he'd joined the costume department of the Opera Nationale in Paris. His main task was to ensure that costumes, furniture, props and everything else were correct from an historical perspective. Or at least in the productions where there was intended to be a degree of historical correctness! Not that many are!

He then told how a famous and very corpulent singer, had needed a breast plate of a gargantuan size for the part of Falstaff in the Verdi opera. Nothing in the department came anywhere near fitting, so he'd visited the armourer, who they also used for such very special pieces. Especially, as the singer always insisted on the best!

Jean had been instantly fascinated as the wizened and stooped armourer worked alone in his surreal workshop, that was almost a characature of the blacksmith shop in Hades. He had cut, shaped, bent and finally polished a sheet of dirty, anonymous stainless-steel plate into a work of art, using only his furnace, an anvil, and the simplest of tools. Seeing that consumate skill, Jean then knew what he wanted to do. If not as a career, then as a hobby!

Five years on from that first visit, after hours of instruction from the armourer and many more of practice in his spare time, he had acquired a level of competence, that would enable him to work alongside his mentor. His skill would never come near, but it was enough for him to support himself and leave the security of the Opera.

*****

'So when did you make your first belt?' I left the important and almost fatal word out deliberately!

'Three years ago!' He stooped and drew back the zip of his bag. 'It was for a rather interesting stage show!' He smiled rather wickedly. 'It was extremely erotic, but the critics thought it was rather bad and that it's only possible virtues were of pornograpy or extremely bad taste!'

'Did it run for long?'

'A couple of weeks.' He was now lifting something wrapped in tissue paper from the bag. 'The play was actually awful and truthfully two weeks was two weeks too long!'

As he unwrapped the tissue, I felt myself gasp as the pieces of polished steel that were there to control me came into full view. 'It's beautiful!' That was all I could think about saying. It was however totally justified. I now understood exactly how Galileo had felt, when they showed him the instruments of torture. Except that I had brought all of this on myself.

He stood up and faced me. 'Would you like to see if it fits?' He was being totally professional and business-like, almost like a tailor with a jacket!

'Yes!' I stood up to join him. 'I take it you've done this before a few times?'

'Many! Tens certainly. I've made many more though, than I've fitted.' He laughed. 'Many men too! A chastity belt would not be my choice for myself!'

I was almost transfixed like a statue and although I'd submitted my body to his hands by standing, I seemed unable to move any more. The dressmaker took charge and reached for the buttons of my jacket, undoing each professionally and very quickly in turn, before removing it and placing it on one the many hangers, that always seemed to litter her workshop.

'Are you sure you want to do this?' Jean could see that I was rather nervous and was being very courteous. 'You could always take it home and try it on with your husband's help!' He smiled to try and help me! 'Your's is a wonderful body to lock!' Now he was using compliments. 'It will be a great pleasure for me!'

I smiled nervously back and for a brief moment I nearly chickened out. This was not like my previous experience, where I had worn the belt for only a few hours very much in fun. I knew that I would be taking it off! This might be a passport to a permanent state. Hadn't my ex said that within a few months, I would spend much of my time with my fidelity enforced? But I didn't falter, as I unbuckled and removed the Hermes belt and then turned so that Jean could unzip me.

*****

He showed me the details of his slim locks on a steel waistband that was perhaps only two thirds of the thickness of Anita's. 'We wouldn't want your perfect silhouette to be spoilt by an ugly metallic lump? Would we?'

I nodded.

'These locks are interchangeable! I'll show you later.' He then indicated that the waistband was unlined, as I would always have the padding and protection of the corset! 'Fold your arms out of the way and I'll try it for fit!'

I did as I was bid and stood there in just the red corset, a pair of tasteful dark stockings and high heel shoes to match the corset. It was a warm day but I was sure I shivered, as he placed the waistband around me and then pulled the front shield through my legs to meet it. The silicon liner felt surprisingly soft but very firm as the belt completely enclosed me for the first time. I looked down and all I could see was my inner lips squeezed together underneath and partly contained in the front slot of the belt.

It was also obvious, that between them, Jean and the dressmaker had got my measurements absolutely right to a fraction of a millimetre. When he clicked the lock shut, everything fitted immaculately and very snugly. There was absolutely no chance of entering even the smallest finger for the tiniest amount of relief!

'Can you walk up and down? Please!' Jean had backed away from me and was waving his hands for emphasis. 'Does it feel comfortable? Tight or loose? Just right?'

'Yes! Just right!' I continued with the monosyllables. It was actually surprisingly comfortable and physically easy to wear. But could I wear it for a whole day? Or to satisfy the whims of me ex?

'Come here! Please!' He held up another piece of mirrored steel with a second, much larger and heavier lock. 'You need the secondary shield to be locked on.' He bent down in front of me. 'Do you mind if I touch you?' He indicated where.

My first reaction was to reply in the negative, as only sexual partners, medical and beauty professionals and my children at birth had ever touched that most private of places. But then I smiled as I realised, that as I was now belted and locked, he could only gently touch the ends of my lips, that protuded into the slot. He also could give me no pleasure and only vicarious ones to himself! After a delay, I nodded to give him my permission.

'I'm just going to make sure that your labia are properly in the slot.' He touched me a couple of times, but moved nothing. 'You're fine! But we wouldn't want you to get hurt!' He clipped and locked the shield into place. 'There you are. Chastity belts are for protection after all!' He motioned me to walk again.

I laughed at his thought and walked up the room. I hoped it would stay this comfortable.

'Can I just check the chains at the back? Please!' He turned me round and checked their fit on my bottom. 'Bend over as far as you can! I want to see if they're too tight!'

Again I was very obedient, but bending over is not easy in a corset. Especially in one as tight as mine! Jean who was lightly touching and inadvertently tickling my bottom as he tested the fit didn't help!

'That looks fine!' He continued as I turned back again and straightend up. 'Have you touched the chastity belt at all yet? I don't think you have!'

'No!' I hadn't moved my hands within several inches of any of the belt.

'Touch it! stroke it! Feel it! Polish it! It's part of you now!' He held my hands and guided them towards the steel. He then moved my right hand up and down in a stroking movement where my sex should have been. 'How does the chastity belt feel?' He was emphasising those words!

'Not like me!' I laughed as I finally broke the single words. 'It feels very impersonal. Not like me at all! Sort of like a steel-clad Barbie doll!'

'And inside?'

I put my hands to cover the front of the belt and felt it all over. I tried to get fingers under at the sides and failed. I tried pushing the front to stimulate myself and failed. I tried pulling it up from the waistband, but got little movement and failed. 'I can feel nothing inside!' I tried again. 'Nothing at all!'

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry!

*****

'Can I have the skirt please?' Jean was talking to the dressmaker. 'Let's see how the chastity belt fits with the suit!' Those words again. Was he trying to get me accustomed to them?

The dressmaker took the skirt and held it for me to step in. As she pulled it up and closed the zip, she made her first comment for some minutes. 'Umm!' She pulled at the waistband. 'You can see the belt underneath. Especially the lock at the front!' She was right! I could see and feel a lump that partly spoiled the cut of the skirt.

Jean was reaching inside his leather bag again. 'Try this!' He unwrapped and held up a black leather belt with a large oblong silver coloured buckle. He reversed the buckle to show us it's shape and how it worked. 'See it's raised to leave a gap behind for the lock! It's hollowed out a bit too!' He threaded it through the belt loops of the skirt. 'How does that look?'

'Perfection!' The dressmaker gave Jean a hug. 'That raised buckle is so clever. When I first pulled that skirt up I thought the belt was obvious.'

'I've made so many belts like this to go with chastity belts!' He checked the fit again. 'Do you want to buy it? The buckle's silver!'

'It's lovely and it does hide the lock beautifully!' I felt it myself. 'Yes! Add it to the bill!'

'Are you sure?' He waited until I nodded. 'That's what I like, a customer who never asks the price!' He turned me again. 'Please! Bend over again!'

'Like this!' I was perhaps at forty five degrees to the vertical, significantly less than last time. This time there was no touching!

'That's fine. You can straighten up now.' He courteously put forward a hand to help me.

'Does the chastity belt pass all of the tests?' I had used the words deliberately, almost as an acceptance.

As I turned and walked again, I could see myself in a long mirror and I thought that except for the belt, I looked the same as when I had arrived. I did feel rather differently, though! 'I think it's lovely. Comfortable too. But also terribly frightening!'

'True! But I think that your belt has passed all the tests, except long term comfort.' He paused. 'That can only be tested with time!' I squirmed a bit and Jean laughed at the thought of my future discomfort. 'There is one other set of tests that must be performed.' He paused again. 'And those concern you!'

*****

We lunched at the same cafe, where the two of us had lunched a couple of weeks before and within an hour we were back in the workshop.

'Did you have any problem eating and drinking?' Jean was obviously going through his tests for me.

'No! Should I?' I always eat sensibly, as my stomach does not have as much room as others!

'Good!' He thought for a bit. 'Some can't eat because of the constriction of the waistband. But you are used to that!' He laughed and gave me a hug to check on my corset!

'There is a last test that you must perform!' He sat me down in the chair. 'When you wore my other belt, did you go to the toilet?'

I felt myself go red with embarrassment. 'No! I avoided it!' It had been a close run thing, but I really hadn't felt like wetting my knickers. Even if they were built for it!

'What are you intending to do now?'

'I was going to do a bit of site-seeing after checking in at the Lancaster. Then a bath -' I stopped almost in the middle of the word. What I had just said hit me hard. 'Will I have the keys when I leave here?' If I didn't, then I'd have to go out to dinner with the rock star client without a hot bath and in the corset I was wearing now!

'You are the customer! It's your choice!' Jean was teasing. 'But there is no time like now, for starting as you will be made to continue!'

'I'll put the decision off if you don't mind.' It was a fearsome dilemma. I could take the keys now and lock and unlock myself every time I needed to. But that was not why I bought the belt!

'You must go to the toilet before you leave here! There shouldn't be any problems! But I want to know if there are.' He motioned to the dressmaker. 'Have you got a jug of water and a glass?'

*****

About three, I finally succumbed and rushed to the small toilet at the back of the shop. I raised the skirt and sat down, trying to make sure that skirt, suspenders and stocking tops were all out of the way of any splashing that might take place.

But it was fully a minute or so before I was able to let go. Until you do wet yourself, you don't realise that pee is so warm and I could feel a strange, wet, body-temperature sensation creeping between myself and the steel. I watched as the pee cascaded into the bowl of the toilet, without it seemed splashing any of my clothes. At least the belt worked in a practical way, as Jean had promised.

In some ways I felt so much better to have relieved myself, but in others I did not! It's not easy to wet oneself, especially knowing that you won't be able to clean yourself properly. All I could do was splash myself with water from a cup to wash the belt through!

Suddenly, I realised that this was going to be my life! Wetting myself! No masturbation! No sexual relief at all! Reliance on my ex to let me out to change clothes! The list went on and on! And it stretched a long way into the future!

I just burst into floods of tears.