Totally helpless

It all started about 10 years ago. One Friday night I was in a bar in the city where I live, when I noticed that the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen was looking at me across the room. I could hardly believe it, but before I knew it she walked over and started talking to me. I was still thinking “What’s wrong with this picture?” when she suggested we go to a nearby hotel.
Once we got to the room, she offered to get me a drink from the mini bar. Suspecting nothing, I drank the whiskey and asked her what her name was. “No names,” she laughed, “it’s better this way.” I remember feeling disappointed that she obviously didn’t want to see me again after that night (how wrong can you be?) At that moment, I started to feel woozy. I looked across at her and saw an evil smile on her face that I will never forget. It was the last thing I saw before passing out.
When I awoke again, I don’t know how much later, I was naked and securely chained by my wrists and ankles to the four corners of the bed. My struggles against my bonds got her attention.
“Ah, awake at last,” she said. “I was beginning to think you’d miss the main event.” As she said this, she held up a shiny metal belt with some kind of device attached to it. Reading my thoughts, she explained, “This is a male chastity belt, the most secure on the market. There’s never been a single case of a man managing to escape from this belt without the key, or have an orgasm – or even an erection – while locked in it. The metal is so strong that there is no way you could cut or burn through it without doing irreparable damage to what’s inside it.”
“In a moment I am going to lock this belt on you, then leave, taking with me the only key. The handcuff on your right hand is a special device of my own construction, incorporating a timer. In – let’s see – a little over three hours, it will unlock automatically, allowing you to reach the keys to your other handcuffs, which I’ve left on the bedside table there, so you can set yourself free. Apart from the belt, of course!” she added with a laugh.
“By the time you’re free I will be long gone, and you will have no idea where I’ve gone or even who I am. There will be nothing you can do except wait until I contact you and give instructions for our next meeting. I haven’t decided yet how long I’m going to wait, and even if I had I wouldn’t tell you. It could be a few weeks, months or even years. These meetings are your only chances to get temporarily out of that belt – though you will always be restrained just as you are now, of course. Sometimes I will allow you an orgasm, sometimes just tease you to the point of insanity then lock the belt back on again. It’s my decision, and you’ll never know which it’s going to be. If you want even the slightest chance of an orgasm, you have no choice but to go along.”
“Your temporary freedom will come at a price, of course. Sometimes the pain of a severe whipping, sometimes some humiliating or disgusting task you’ll have to perform before I unlock you. But then ending will always be the same – I’ll lock the belt back on and leave you lying there, counting the hours until the timer sets you free.”
“Welcome to the rest of your life.”
I had no time to take in the appalling picture she was painting of my future, as she was already locking the belt onto me. My cock dispappeared into a metal tube which seemed to be exactly the same size as its flaccid state – there would be no way I could get even the slighest erection. The belt itself looped around my waist, with two chains running between my legs between the belt and the cock tube. The whole thing had a built-in key mechanism rather than a separate padlock. As she snapped the lock shut, I saw once again that look of pure sadism in her eyes.
“Well, time I was going,” she said. “But I’m worried you might be bored just lying there for the next 3 hours. Let me give you something to think about.” With that, she took a 2 litre bottle of water from the mini bar. She gripped my nose in one hand, thus keeping my head still and forcing me to open my mouth, and forced me to drink the entire bottle. I wondered for a moment if the water was also drugged, but then suddenly I understood the torment she was inflicting – within half an hour I would desperately need to pee, but would have to wait another two and half hours in agony before I could.
She got up to leave.
“Wait!” I blurted out. “You… you can’t do this to me.”
She shook her head as if dealing with a particularly dimwitted child. “Understand one thing. I can do absolutely anything I want to you, and I’m going to spend the rest of your life proving it. The torture and humilation you suffer will be limited only by my imagination, which is to say, not limited at all. And even though you know how much suffering a phone call from me will mean, you’ll pray every morning that that day will be the day I finally call, since I’m the only way you can get relief from your unimaginable sexual frustration.”
She leant over me and made an ajustment to the timer-controlled handcuffs. “Why don’t I give you a few extra hours to think about it”, she said.
It was six months later when she finally contacted me, calling from an untraceable number. I was given strict instructions to rent a room at a particular hotel and wait for her there. When she arrived, she told me straight away that she didn’t have the key to my belt with her, so I could forget any ideas I had about overpowering her to get it. She would only go and fetch it once I was securely handcuffed to the four corners of the bed – and of course, forcing me to drink a couple of litres of water “for old times’ sake”.
Finally, after several hours, she returned. (I suspect the key wasn’t really that far away, but she enjoyed the thought of leaving me lying there, helplessly awaiting her return.) She removed the infernal belt, and my poor deprived cock sprang instantly to attention. I won’t go into the torments and teasing of the next few hours, except to say that when she finally did grant me release, she stressed that I shouldn’t take it for granted and sometimes I would be going through all this hell with no reward at the end. Like everything else she promised, it turned out to be true. After 10 years I still have no idea who she is. I have no way of contacting her to plead for mercy, and no way of guessing how long she will leave it before contacting me. When she does, I have no way of saying no to whatever cruel punishments she has devised as the price for my all too brief freedom.
Yet my fear at what tortures she may inflict on me is nothing compared to the terror that she will one day stop calling. She has dropped dark hints that she may get bored of our arrangement and bring it to an end – meaning, of course, that I would be left belted for ever, with no hope of escape.
I am completely broken and helpless.