Chastity: Genesis
By Musuko

From the most secret (but not really, as you’re reading it) diary of Musuko Massiel.

People change. It is a universal fact of the world. And like all universal facts, it applies to me just as much as it does to anyone. Hard to imagine that I could be anything other than the magnificent, sophisticated, eloquent and sexy kitty cat that I am today, but there you are.
	Alright, I had to look up the word “eloquent” to make sure I was using it right. Add “honest” to my list of attributes!
	The fact also applies to one of my oldest friends. Dear Lethias, such a kind-hearted mouse. Such a wickedly dirty-minded mouse! He was, and is, one of the biggest reasons that CKC exists today. Without him, who knows where I would be now? Maybe I can get Doctor Sweet to invent something that’ll tell me. Anyway, I digress…
	My point is! Once upon a time, this kitty was an innocent, normal cat with a normal life, far removed from the wild wonders of CKC, and that promiscuous, submissive white mouse was...well…
	I’ll tell the story in full.
	I was a student at a university. I won’t say which one it was. No, it wasn’t one of the high tier ones. It wasn’t one of the lowly ones either. It was remarkably unremarkable in most every respect. It was perfect; it matched who I was at the time. I was a normal, ordinary cat, studying an uninteresting liberal arts degree (no, I won’t say what one it was: too embarrassing!) and there was only one notable feature of who I was, at age twenty, in my third and final year of study.
	I was a virgin…
	I know, right? I mean, we all know that once upon a time everyone we see and meet was once something very different they are now. Everyone was once sat in soiled diapers blowing bubbles from their lips. Although, around here, for some that was a lot more recent than for others!
	But to be a virgin at age twenty? Not entirely shameful, I know. But for me? Compared to how I am now? To have gone from a complete standstill then to full sprint today? In so few years (ahem...I’m not that old)? What was it that could have transformed me so?
	Well. That, dear reader (and why are you reading this? Tut! It’s my private diary), is where Lethias came into things.
	In my third year, I was living in student digs in the heart of the small, but busy city, sharing with two others in our two bedroom little house. The other two, Jake and Milly, were a couple. Both bunnies. Both coloured like milky coffee. And like bunnies...well…
	Ahem. At the time they embarrassed me greatly with how frequently they went at it in their room. Thankfully, they didn’t range around the house in their frisky activity. But their shared species and fur colour made them look like siblings. They weren’t, though; they assured me of that. And in later years, when I had CKC’s resources, I confirmed their truthfulness in one of my moments of curiosity. Luckily, I had a taste for rock music at the time, and had some very good headphones. Things were reasonably drama free in that house. The kitchen wasn’t a health hazard. The shared spaces were tidy enough for our standards. Things were happy. And while they had eachother to bonk, I had my paw, as I had had since my early teens.
	Then, one fateful morning, dun dun dun…
	Milly broke the news. She had the lease in her name, and she had all the paperwork. She laid the letter from the landlord out in front of us one morning at breakfast.
	“The rent’s going up,” she said. “By a lot. We’re going to have to do something about this?”
	“Like what?” I said. Foolishly, I’d given her the window to broach her idea. She gave me the biggest grin I’d seen.
	“You need a boyfriend,” she said.
	I don’t quite remember my response to that. I was a nervous cat back then, tending to avoid confrontation. I think I stammered out some excuse and escaped the kitchen, probably regretting ever confessing my sexuality to those two in the first place.
	But the week wore on, and more of these little talks happened, and the urgency of what I had to do became more stressed. I would have to find someone to share my room and help pay the bills. And as it was a room with a double bed (which I so adored: so much freedom to sprawl), and with us having no funds spare to swap it out with two single beds (and with the landlord unlikely to consent to us doing that anyway), I really didn’t have any other choice.
	I would have to do what Milly wanted me to do. I would have to find a boyfriend.
	I am nothing if not practical (hey, don’t laugh!), so I did what any normal person would do when needing to find a boyfriend. No, I didn’t go “hit the bars”. What century do you think this is? No, I put myself out there, exposing myself to the public...or at least, one small subset of it...to dangle my lure to the seething tempest of horny singles that is...shudder...internet dating.
	I still have that first profile, somewhere locked away in a very secure private server. It was a masterpiece of everything that a good profile isn’t. I was nervous, utterly lacking in self-confidence, and generally unflattering. But worst of all: I was condescending of the very notion of online dating. I used phrases like “I don’t normally go in for this sort of thing” and “I’m only on here because I need to find a roommate, and maybe more”. I cringe now. I did not make myself look appealing or attractive. I had, though, in effect made myself look like precisely the thing that attracts a certain kind of person; I had made myself look like weak and vulnerable prey.
	And Lethias was precisely the kind of hunter that would home in on me. I really can’t stress enough how different a person he was then.
	Our first date was...enlightening. He took me to a sandwich shop on the high street. He ate a cheese sandwich while I picked at the tuna sandwich he had ordered or me despite my protestations that I was a vegetarian. He leaned back in his chair, the front two legs lifted off the ground, his legs crossed at the knees, one boot sticking out into the tight space between the tables, refusing to move it even when other people tried to get past. He spent the whole first half of the date talking about other dates, and what he liked to do to other pretty little boys like myself. Which was a nerve, as I was two years older than him: he had only just started at the university. An eighteen year old. A youngster, almost a child in my mature, twenty year old eyes. Not that it mattered to him. He was the boss, and I was the meek little plaything, innocent and naive fruit ready for him to pluck.
	And like a sucker, I ate it all up. I fell for his cocky arrogance. I fell for his punkish laid back ease. We didn’t even make it to a second date; he moved himself in two days later.
	Oh the humiliation of talking with Milly.
	“What’s his name?” she asked, pen poised over the form she had to fill in for the landlord.
	“Lethias,” I said.
	“And his surname?”
	“Uh,” I said. “I’d better go ask him.”
	The shame! The shame! To get that judgemental raised eyebrow from a sex-obsessed bunny! And then to get it again from Lethias’s laugh when I asked him for it. Even he had mockery for me, pointing out how I was letting an almost total stranger move in with me, taking over my room, pushing aside my things to make room for his, taking down some of my posters and putting his up.
	And again, like a fool...I was getting a strange feeling from it all. I was liking it, having a strong, confident male in my space. It was making me feel more confident by osmosis. Or so I thought.
	“So,” he said, later that day, our dinners in our stomachs, washed down with a couple of beers each. He was sat on the end of the bed, leaning back on his paws and kicking his socks off with his toes. The air in the room very quickly got a lot more masculine. I tried to ignore it, staying glued to my computer screen, tapping away at some essay or other without really accomplishing anything worthwhile. “What side of the bed do you sleep on?”
	“Um. I don’t really have a side. I kinda sleep in the middle.”
	“Not any more you don’t,” he said. “Hmm. I think...I’ll take this side.”
	I looked over. He was starting to undress, stripping down to boxers. I snapped back to look at my screen. This was a weird situation; I knew that. At least, it was at the time. Today, not so much. But back then, I was struggling with the very real fear of having to get undressed too. I was stupid; I missed my chance. I could have got undressed at the same time as he did, so I wouldn’t have him directly watching me. But no. By the time I reluctantly pulled myself away from the computer and started to strip off, trying to hide both my front and my back from him at the same time, and not doing very well with either attempt, he was snug in bed, propped up on pillows, paws behind his back, watching me and smiling.
	“Very nice,” he said, just adding to my discomfort. I tried to tell myself I was being silly. We had met on a dating site after all. We’d gone on a date. He had spent most of it making it very clear that he intended to do unspeakably sexual things to me. He had moved in to share my room, my bed, under the label of “boyfriend”. I shouldn’t have been afraid of showing my body to him. But...there I was, quickly scrambling under the covers beside him and turning out the light.
	“Goodnight,” I said.
	I felt him shift towards me. I felt his arms wrap around me and pull my back against his chest. I felt his breath against the back of my neck. I felt his foot slide over the top of my leg and curl underneath it. I felt his hardon press against the small of my back.
	“Mmm. Goodnight,” he whispered, cuddling me close.
	Heart pounding, traitorous cock throbbing just as much as his was, thoughts racing, I tried to sleep. I mainly thought two thoughts simultaneously:
Oh god...he’s going to fuck me.
...so...why isn’t he?

He had uncurled from me by the time I woke up in the morning. The little spoon was released from the big spoon. I got a chance to look at him, while he lay sprawled on his back, one arm on the pillow above his head, the bedcovers tucked down across his waist...and tented a little further down by his raging hardon.
Ahem. Yeah. I was tempted, of course. And really, I knew I could have done it; we were a couple after all, albeit a very newly-minted and ill-advised one. It was entirely my right, nay, obligation to slide in under those covers and give him a good blowjob to wake up to.
I didn’t, of course. What I did do was sneak out of bed and hurriedly conceal myself in a towel to hide my own morning hardon (which had been much reinforced by seeing his) and scamper off to the bathroom for a morning shower with...ahem...extra personal attention…
	...meaning of course that I pawed off in the shower and washed my sticky paw off in the stream, like some horny teenager without any privacy. Only at that moment did I come to terms with the knowledge that I wouldn’t be doing it in my own bedroom again anytime soon. No more late night porn browsing. No more privacy. Fuck.
	He was awake by the time I returned to my room...no, our room.
	“What’s for breakfast?” he said.
	It set the tone for things to come. The implication in his tone was clear. The words actually said “go make breakfast”.
	And, of course, I did. I was already well under his thumb. And to be honest, I kinda liked it.
	Things continued in that vein for a while. A week passed with pretty much the same routine. Every night the spooning. Every morning the intense need to relieve myself. Every day the continual low-level dominance that had me running around to do things for him. He hardly ever outright asked or ordered me to do anything. He just expressed his needs and wants and I sprung to attention to provide what he needed. I was a natural submissive, through and through, and he was riding atop that, taking total advantage of it.
	Well, not total. It confused me even at the time; he had yet to do anything sexual to me, bar the nightly press of arousal at my back, which I wrote off as just being natural and not really intended to be anything. Not once. Not even a kiss! How weird was that?
	It suited me, though. I was nowhere near confident enough to attempt anything like that. Part of me wouldn’t have minded if he took the initiative and forced himself on me. It was cowardly of me, I know: I wanted him to take away my choice so I didn’t have the agony of being responsible for it.

Then, one morning, I came home from lectures to find a parcel on my chair.
	“That came for you this morning,” said Lethias, hardly looking up from his book. He was studying physics, and the book was thicker than my arm. He still managed to look like a cocky sleazeball even so; this mouse was reading physics whilst stretched out on the bed, naked but for his boxers, sweating in the stifling room in early summer, taking breaks from reading to scratch his nuts and take a swig from his beer.
	I set my bag down by the door and walked over, eyeing the box with a puzzled frown. I didn’t see Lethias’s expression. I was trying to figure out what the package was. I didn’t remember ordering anything recently. Penniless student and all that, no spare cash for frivolous expenses. I was quite sensible like that.
	“So,” I heard him, along with the crisp paper sound of a page being turned. “What is it?”
	“I don’t…”
	I froze. I saw the shipping label on the top of the box, and I did know where it came from. I recognised the company logo which, while discreet and nondescript, was very well known to me as being a supplier of certain recreational items, to put it politely. I knew of them from their ads popping up over porn videos. I had clicked through to their site before, and marvelled at the weird and wonderful and, on occasion, downright confusing and scary products on sale.
	But, and here’s the important detail; I had never ordered anything from them.
 	“...know,” I said, after a ridiculously long pause. I scooped up the box and clutched it to my chest. I heard the heavy book closing.
	“Well, open it then.”
	I gripped the box a little harder, my mind whirling. I risked a quick glance over at Lethias and saw him grinning. And then I knew for certain; I hadn’t ordered this. He had.
	Today, looking back, I think of that moment as one of the sweetest, most special moments in my entire life. I adore witnessing someone take their first steps into the shallow end of the vast and murky ocean of adventure and excitement that is kink. I have seen it in others a million times. But in myself I have only experienced the once. And that moment was this moment.
	I confess that my feelings were mixed, and distinctly conflicting. At the basest level I felt violated. It was a weak sensation though. Lethias had already blasted through much of my resistance to his invasion of my world and conquest of control over my life, at least within the confines of that room and my home life in general. I felt scared and humiliated in equal measure. What was in the box, and what was going to happen when I opened it?
	But then above all that, and rapidly steamrollering over every other thought, were the same thoughts that made my body tingle when he embraced me in bed; the ones that made me feel wanted, as weird as that was. Here I was, on the verge of potentially being treated like a sex toy, no different to what was awaiting me inside the box, and I was longing for it because it made me feel wanted. That was some Stockholm Syndrome shit right there. Later, of course, a lot later, I assembled these thoughts into my understanding of what it truly means to be a submissive. But at that moment, I just felt creepy and weird. Excited too, of course. And scared. And a little bit queasy. I’d never done anything...at all. Could one go straight from virgin to whatever kind of hugely-girthed, multi-coloured, knobbled monster that was in the box?
	I pushed aside some space on my desk and set the box down. I unsheathed a claw and, with a neat swipe across the top of the box, severed the tape and freed the cardboard flaps for opening. Gingerly, I eased open the top and felt down into the packing peanuts, fishing around inside, expecting to touch something gelatinous of vibrating or who knew what. I heard Lethias get off the bed and walk up behind me, and caught his sweaty smell and saw his muzzle in my peripheral vision, looking over my shoulder. I knew he must have ordered this. But still he pretended to be curious and ignorant.
	My fingers felt around the edges of a box, and I gripped it and pulled. Packing peanuts cascaded everywhere, and I brushed them away to reveal the contents, the box within the box.
	The words “cocklocker 8000” were printed on the top.
	“Ah,” I heard Lethias exclaim. “It arrived!”
	He reached around me and gripped my paws, peeling their grip off the box and taking it for himself. I span around on my heels, trapped within his arms, bringing my nose to his. I had blossomed into fiery anger, my cheeks burning with humiliation. But he just grinned at me and then, with a movement so quick that I couldn’t defend myself, planted a quick little kiss on my nose.
	“Happy birthday, sweetie,” he said, uncoupling his arms from behind me and bringing the box around in front of me, holding it up to my nose.
	“It’s not my birthday,” I said, dumbfounded, anger falling apart.
	He shrugged. “Well, I don’t know when your birthday actually is, so…” He waggled the box. “I thought I’d just get it out of the way. Do you like it?”
	I bit my lip and took a step back. Of course, the desk was right there, and I bumped into it, dislodging the box and sending it tumbling to the floor in a shower of packing peanuts. “You got me,” I said, taking deep breaths, trying to recover some dignity and my reassuring, defensive anger, “a chastity device.”
	“Ah, you do know what it is! Want to see it?” He started to open the box. I caught sight of chrome within.
	“Why did you get me a chastity device? I’m not-”
	“Quiet,” he said, with a sudden sharpness that stopped me dead. He had lifted the device out from the box; an artistic thing of careful craftsmanship, a spiderweb of gleaming metal, shaped into an overall tube shape, to trap and confine a fur’s sheath and the cock within, with a more solid chromed ring positioned to sit snugly around and under the balls. I recognised it from the website. It had teased and tempted me. I had wanted to say “I’m not kinky”, but I knew that wasn’t really the whole truth. I knew really that the truth was “I would if I could afford it.”
	He held the device close to my nose, and he stepped in behind it. My eyes darted back and forth between it and his scarily featureless pink eyes. He felt awfully close to me, and not in a good way.
	“Because,” he said, “you are my boyfriend. And rather than having sex with me like a boyfriend should, you’ve been pawing off in the shower.”
	“W-what,” I gasped. “How did…” I abandoned the question. It wasn’t even important. I flailed in my thoughts. “I didn’t know that you wanted to! I was waiting for you to make the first move!”
	He swayed the device, and I watched it move. Just like a classic hypnotist with his watch. “Well,” he said. “Consider this the first move. Get your clothes off.”
	“I don’t-”
	His paw was on my neck, pushing my muzzle up, squeezing. A panicky little squeak came from my lips, more rodent-like than any sound that he, an actual rodent, had ever made that I had heard. “Get,” he said, the words dropping like ice hammers, “your clothes off. Now.”
	He let go of my neck and I fell down off my tiptoes onto my heels. I clutched my neck, coughing, looking up at him. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to be scared. I should have been both of those things. But no. I wasn’t those things. I wasn’t feeling the urgent need to scream for help, or rush from the room, or grab a phone and call the police to haul away my violent, domestically-abusive boyfriend.
	No...I was turned on.
	And that was pretty shameful. But we know that I didn’t turn into a beaten wife. Today, I command CKC and he’s the kinkiest slut I know. Haven’t heard from him in a while, though. Might have to give him a call.
	But then...then I was a scared and stupid little kitty getting a stiffy from the thought that my boyfriend was going to beat me if I didn’t obey him. All well and good if you signed up for it and you had a safeword and all that, but not without it! For shame on my younger self. And shame was very much in charge as I started to strip off out of my clothes, exposing a vulnerable, skinny little feline body. And, of course, my eager little hardon.
	“You enjoying yourself?” he said, grinning at me with an eyebrow raised. I avoided looking at him. Suddenly, the floor was a very interesting thing. “Here,” he said, holding out the chastity. “Put it on.”
	“I can’t...I mean…” I gestured helplessly at my cock. “How am I going to get it on like this?”
	Note, dear reader, that this was the only protest I offered. Not “why should I?” or just a plain “no”, followed by “and you’re dumped”. No, that was my only protest. Because my mind had already accepted what was going to happen; my cock was going to be locked away, Lethias was going to control it, just like he was controlling so much of my life, more and more with every passing day, and this was just a thing that was going to happen whether I let it or not. And it was going to happen because some wicked part of me was in control and making me want it so badly.
	“Then get it soft,” he said. “Or I’ll soften it for you. No, not like that.”
	I had reached for my cock. My fingers froze, inches from their target.
	“Then how?” I mewled plaintively.
	He rolled his eyes. Or at least, that’s what I imagined. He could not actually roll his eyes. Or rather, if he did, nobody could tell, thanks to those pink, featureless eyes of his. “Like this,” he said, reaching down and grabbing my nuts in his paw and squeezing, hard. My scream of pain met his cupped palm. I felt the chastity device, dangling from his finger, bump against my cheek. He pinned me against the desk and pressed his body against me, silencing my noises to a muffled, quiet squeal that couldn’t be heard outside the room, as he kept on squeezing. I pressed my paws against his chest and tried to push him away, but he was too strong and was braced against my. I wailed like a child, trying to get my mouth free from his paw, but it moved wherever I struggled. My body shook. My eyes started to stream. The pain was too much to bear.
	Then it was gone. He stepped back, gracefully extending his arm with the chastity on offer to me, while I gracelessly sagged forwards and cupped my aching balls, moaning miserably. My erection was long gone.
	“Here,” he said, waggling the chastity. “Get it on before you get excited again.”
	“F-fuck off,” I gasped, fighting sobs and barely managing to keep the shake out of my voice. “I should call the police for that!”
	“Oh really?”
	“Yes! You fucking-”
	“So why didn’t you use your claws?”
	“...what?”
	“Your claws,” he said, patiently, like he was talking to a child. “You’ve got claws, don’t you? Nice sharp kitty claws. You could slit my throat with those things if you wanted to. You could certainly fight me off if you really didn’t like what was happening. So, what, you forgot you had them or something? Or you didn’t use them because…” He raised his eyebrow. Cocky smile. Cocky, smug mouse.
	I looked away, with no answer to give. I reached out blindly and felt the chastity device guided into my paw. I slumped down seated into my desk chair, still not looking up at him, and inspected the device and my poor abused crotch.
	“The tube goes on your-”
	“I know how it works,” I said. “Just give me a minute, okay?”
	I heard the bed creak. I still didn’t look up. I fiddled with the chastity device. My head was numb. I figured I must have been in some kind of emotional shock. It was a relief, somewhat, to be free of all the confusion of thoughts and feelings, at least temporarily. I focussed on just getting done what needed to be done; getting this thing locked onto my cock before it had a chance to get excited again. I did not want a repeat of that ball-crushing pain!
	“D-done,” I said, some minutes later, standing up and feeling the awkward weight tugging against my sheath and balls. Other than the strange feeling of it being there, it was oddly comfortable. Lethias had his book out again, and seemed like he had been ignoring me while I fitted the chastity. Whether he actually had or not, I didn’t know.
	“Let’s have a look,” he said. “Come over here.”
	I moved over to stand beside the bed. I was fiddling with the chastity, tugging at it experimentally. He slapped my paw away.
	“Put your paws on your head.”
	I hesitated, but felt it better to obey. My cock started to swell up, as if exploring its new home. I tried to will it down, but it was no good. Standing naked, chastised, with my paws on my head, obeying my boyfriend...the word seemed so odd now...like I was his slave; it made it almost inevitable that I would start to get hard and discover the uncomfortable squeezing feeling of the device preventing my erection.
	“Hmm,” he said, as he felt at my crotch, tugging and poking at the device and at my flesh. Great, finally he gets physical with me and it’s like this. I watched him as he produced a small metal cylinder capped with a key from his pocket. He slid it into a socket through the top of the chastity device, securing the tube and the ring together. He turned the key and then removed it, leaving the bolt in place. So, no padlock to cut. If I wanted out of this thing, I’d either have to cut the whole thing off, or see if I could pull myself free of it. Maybe I could. Surely it wasn’t escape-proof. But then...what would he say when he found out I’d escaped it? What would he do, more importantly? Was there any way to get it off and then back on again without him knowing? I had enough difficulty getting it on when all the parts were separated. I couldn’t imagine getting it back on again when it was all locked together as one device.
	“Alright,” he said, seemingly satisfied, laying back on the bed and picking up his book. “You can get dressed now.”
	I lowered my arms. “Is that it?”
	He looked up over the edge of his book. “You want something else? Want me to squeeze your balls some more?”
	“I’ll get dressed.”
	And then, as if the whole thing had never happened, the whole dynamic of the room was back to normal. He was lounged on our bed, reading his book, while I sat at my desk at the other end of the room, feeling stunned into quietness. I had expected...well, I didn’t know what I expected. But I didn’t expect this.
	“Do you-”
	“What’s for dinner?” he said. “How about you make us a curry?”
	I didn’t like curry. He knew I didn’t like curry. But I stood up, feeling the odd weight of the chastity inside my jeans. Everything looked and felt superficially normal. But with that thing locked on me, and the key inside Lethias’s pocket, something had definitely changed in our relationship...or if not changed, intensified.
	“Sure,” I said, retreating from the room, feeling the welcome, mindless daze return, letting me focus on going to the kitchen, getting the ingredients out of the cupboards, getting the hob on...all the things needed to make a nice meal that would satisfy my boyfriend.
It wasn’t the romantic meal that I might have hoped for. He sat on our bed and I sat at my desk. I picked at my chicken while he wolfed down his. I felt numb and dumb, still processing recent events. The chastity felt strange and heavy between my thighs, and I constantly shifted in my seat. Lethias seemed to pay no attention to my discomfort, both mental and physical, and was soon back into his book with his empty plate at his side.
	The night was as all nights had been, with one exception. As we lay together, my back against his chest, his arms around me, my tail down between his legs and his hardon pressed against my back, he moved one paw down from my tummy and rested it over the bumpy, rigid bulge of the chastity device underneath my boxers. And there it stayed, just resting there, cupping the bulge of it just a little bit. I felt the warmth of his breath against my neck and the heat that always seemed to radiate from his body. Some nights, it would be oppressive, boiling me in uncomfortable heat and sweat under the heavy duvet. But this night, with his paw there, just a layer of cotton and a layer of metal away from touching my cock, the heat was altogether different. It made my cock push against the metal, inflicting discomfort on the edge of pain, making my breath catch in the occasional gasp, making me bury my muzzle down into my pillow and, for the first time, clasp my paws on top of his; first the one on my crotch, then the one on my tummy. I felt and heard him chuckle against my neck, before the paw on my crotch eased away and joined the rest on my tummy. And there they stayed, his fingers intertwined with mine, a chaos of affectionate embrace.
	I really, really wanted to paw off. For an hour I fought to fall asleep.

In the morning I found him sprawled on his back beside me, the duvet caught in a tangle around his legs, leaving me with only a scrap to curl up in. It was the cold that woke me. I didn’t try to free some more of the duvet for myself. That might have woken him. And even though I couldn’t quite understand my reasons, I knew that I didn’t want to do that.
	So, I curled up against his side, tucking my head in under his sprawled arm, and stealing some of his warmth for myself. I felt the chastity poke against his side, reminding me of its existence. My morning erection had arrived, found itself trapped, and protested unpleasantly. Maybe it was that that woke me, rather than the cold?
	I started to notice his body scent, that sweaty musk he always seemed to carry even immediately after a shower. I brushed my nose against the fur of his chest as it rose and fell with his slow, steady breathing. I stewed in my thoughts for a while. He wasn’t...I mean...he was...I…
	Yeah, I couldn’t get my thoughts in order. He was my boyfriend, but yet not, but yet...and I wanted to have sex with him, but also I didn’t. And right now I couldn’t anyway, as he’d locked my cock away inside metal. And that was a thing I couldn’t make my mind up on either. Should I be horrified or excited or scared or...what?
	I finally came, via a roundabout train of thought, to something he had said the night before; that I pawed off in the shower instead of having sex with him. I felt a goosebumpy feeling run through me and I clung a little tighter against his side. I felt him stir underneath me. He said that because...he wanted me to have sex with him.
	He wanted me to initiate it? He...why would he want that? He was so in charge and confident. Surely he would make the first…
	And then it struck me, and at that moment I felt so ridiculously stupid. How could I not have figured it out? I felt almost like tears, and I tilted my head up to look at his peacefully sleeping face. He wanted me to make the first move because I was the naive, scared little virgin and he was giving me space and freedom to do things when I was ready, rather than he was. And I was too dumb to realise it, thinking he would make the first move. And now the chastity was there, an encouragement for me, a reminder to drag me out of my shell and actually enjoy having a boyfriend.
	Or...he just wanted to fuck me and had got impatient.
	A long time later, of course, I found out that it was a bit of both. For that moment, though, I stewed on the thoughts for a while, with my cock struggling in vain against the chastity, with his scent filling my nose and his warmth filling my body. And after what felt like forever, still clawed by doubts, I started sneaking my paw down across his naked chest and tummy…
	“Morning,” he said, just as my fingers reached the tip of his cock, finding it hard and ready. I froze in fright, feeling the fur on the back of my neck fluff up in an instant. I flinched my fingers back to his tummy.
	“No need to stop,” he said. “If I had known you’d change this quickly, I’d have locked that thing on you days ago.”
	Swelling up with shame, feeling like I would burst, I started to uncurl myself from him. I felt his arm sweep down over my head and his paw press against my back, pushing me back in.
	“When I said there was no need to stop,” he said, “that really was more of a subtle order than an expression of permission. Don’t stop, boyfriend. Get your paw back there. Or your mouth, if you prefer.”
	A rather undignified squeaky mewl caught in my throat. Caught between conflicting impulses, the weight of decision finally fell towards obedience, and I crept my paw back down to that eager, pulsing cock. I touched my fingertips lightly into the sticky patch of precum at its tip, then closed them fully around the middle of his shaft. I felt him stretch and shift beneath me, letting out a whisper-quiet murmur of approval. I bit my lip and gave his cock a gentle, experimentative squeeze. He responded again, much as before, but a bit more enthusiastically. I felt my instincts start to take over. Lust clouded my thoughts like a drug, and I eased my teeth off my lip, relaxing into the same animalistic mindless, panting happiness that took over whenever I had my heels up on my desk, my chair reclined right back, my cock in my paw and a panting, moaning, whimpering soundtrack playing in my ears as the pixels danced in ecstasy on my screen. Except now it was in my bed and not on my screen, and the moaning was coming from the mouse under my head and beneath my paw as I stroked his cock, pawing him off, giving him pleasure and feeling his responses.
	Looking back, I can of course see that it was hardly the incredible erotic experience that I felt it to be at the time. Lethias was horny and I just lay there with him and pawed him off, until he released all over the duvet and my paw and then fell back into half sleep while I lay cuddled up against his side, electric and energised with my own arousal and kept that way by the restriction of the chastity. But for me it was my watershed moment. And I remember laying there feeling giddy and happy, proud at my first ever sexual experience with another living, breathing person.
	Sad I know. But it was my special moment, so fuck you, imaginary judgemental reader. I was a happy little kitty. And when he woke up again about an hour or so later, I greeted him with a happy smile and a kiss on the cheek.
	He groaned and grumbled and pushed my face away.
	“Your breath stinks,” he said. “Ugh, you didn’t clean up?” He lifted the duvet away from his cock. The fabric parted with difficulty from his skin and matted fur. Drying cum everywhere.
	“I thought-”
	“Shut up. Go make me breakfast and...wait, no. Clean me up, and then go make breakfast.”
	“How-”
	His paw cupped the back of my head and thrust me down into the musk-laced space beneath the duvet, held up by his paw, down towards his half-hard, cum-drenched cock. I yelped in protest, but put up little resistance. Truth was, I wanted it. I closed my eyes and let the feeling hit me, as I knew it would when my tongue touched against that sticky fur; the feeling of being a dirty little cat slave. I shifted around awkwardly, getting tangled up in the duvet, hiding myself somewhat underneath it. I knelt with my weight forward on my elbows and lapped in long strokes through the fur of his crotch, tasting the rich, musky cum, smelling it in the hot air. I felt a touch against my butt and I flinched, but didn’t stop. I touched my tongue against his cock and started to lap at it, while that touch stroked down and slid between my thighs. I parted them a fraction for him. I felt his paw twist around and his fingers cup over the hanging weight of my chastity, fondling it through my boxers, making me gasp and tremble at the slight pressure against my confined sheath through the spiderweb of metal, making me whimper at the pain of my trapped cock trying to expand.
	“Please,” I gasped.
	“Shut up. Are you done?”
	I shook my head.
	“Then keep licking.” A pressure came down onto my head, through the duvet; his other paw, pushing my muzzle back down into his crotch fur. I licked, feeling the cum and fur musk and my own saliva impregnate into the fur on my cheeks. My cock felt like it was on the boil, churning and throbbing and desperate for a nice firm squeeze and stroke. But all it got was the metal digging in, and the teasing touch of his fingers through the cotton, stroking at the gaps between the metal. It was very good encouragement. It made me mad with horniness and kept me licking.
	Finally, he seemed satisfied. He shoved my head away and pulled the duvet off of me, wrapping it around himself and rolling to face away from me.
	“Eggs and bacon please.”
	“We don’t have any bacon,” I said, automatically, stunned, kneeling on the bed in my boxers and painful hardon with cum and sweat and saliva matting down my muzzle.
	“Then you better go buy some then.”
	“Can I-”
	“Now,” he said. “Get some clothes on and go. Don’t make me wait.”
	The whine in my throat said it all. No shower. Just the walk of shame with the sex stink on my body. Except coming from my own home, rather than the home of some one night stand. And without having orgasmed myself. Just a morning of lust-filled frustration.
	Call it Stockholm Syndrome, but I couldn’t have been happier. Well, when you looked past the superficial. Superficially, I was miserable and really, really wanting to shower myself clean and do the other thing that I always liked to do in the shower. But beyond that I was glowing, and feeling really dirty. And that felt good. I felt like a porn star must feel. Or a prostitute. Or some back alley slut on my knees in a puddle, sucking off some random guy.
	Yeah...I really was a naive little virgin back then. I had no idea, really, what all those things actually felt like. I found out later of course. But at that moment, I thought they felt like what I was feeling then. And it made me happy, so it didn’t really matter. I got dressed, as ordered, tucking my chastised cock into my jeans and trying to figure out if it showed, wiping at my muzzle on an old t-shirt and wondering if that showed either. Then, with a flash of perversion all my own making, I put on the very t-shirt I had just soiled with my muzzle’s stickiness, pulled on a jacket over it, and headed outside. I paused at the door, keys and wallet in pocket, looking at my shoes. Another flash of perversion, and with a bashful smile all to myself, I stepped outside bare pawed. Not a big deal, I know. But with the feeling of dirt under my bare pads, on my face, on my clothes, and throbbing inside my secret kinky chastity, it felt so...dirty!
	I was pretty sure the mink lady behind the counter sniffed the air as I pushed the pack of bacon across to her. I could feel my ears blaze with a blush that I was sure must have been visible. When my change came back to my paw I fled as fast as I could without looking too obvious, scampering out into the street and hurrying home with an electric burst of glee in my chest.
	Jake and Milly were eating their breakfast when I got back. Milly noticed first. She stopped with her spoon halfway to her mouth, dripping milk and fragments of cornflakes. Slowly, she lowered it, a smile growing on her face.
	“You’ve got a little…” she gestured at her cheek. Jake turned around in his chair to look at me, and he blossomed into a smile too.
	“Had a good morning did you?” he said.
	I quickly felt to my cheek. My fingers came back sticky. I knew exactly what it was. I clearly hadn’t cleaned up as well as I thought. I frantically wiped at my cheek and sheepishly smiled at them.
	“Yeah,” I said. I padded over to the cupboard, hurrying to find eggs.
	“About time,” said Jake, punctuating with the crunch of toast. He chewed, looking thoughtful. “So. Is he bigger than me?”
	“Jake!” Milly swatted his paw with her spoon. He yelped. She giggled. He laughed. It was all very cheerful. I looked back at them, biting my lip, trying my best to stop a giant grin from splitting my face. Jake saw the look I was giving him.
	“Shit, he is?”
	I nodded, the urge to grin becoming too much. Yeah, he was. I’d seen Jake often enough, flaunting himself between their room and the bathroom. He had nothing to be ashamed of. But Lethias had...more.
	“Oh don’t feel bad,” said Milly. “I’m sure he hasn’t got the same...stamina.”
	Her tone dripped with...well, let’s just say I was sure I’d be hearing noises from their room later. They started speaking in hushed, private tones that I couldn’t hear as the bacon and eggs sizzled. I started to worry that they wouldn’t wait until they got back to their room! I cooked as fast as I could and almost sprinted from the room with Lethias’s plate.
	“Thanks,” he said, sitting up in the bed and taking the plate from me. I made to climb up onto the bed and he held out a paw to stop me. “Why are you still dressed?”
	“Because-”
	“You don’t wear clothes in here,” he said. So simple. So matter-of-fact. Not even looking up at me. Just cutting a chunk of egg, neat and methodical. “Not any more. Except for the chastity, I mean,” he said, looking up and gesturing towards my crotch with his fork. “That stays on.”
	“Yes s-” I stopped, hesitated, reconsidered and...re-reconsidered. “Yes sir.”
	“Good kitty.”
	I stripped off, feeling a little more at ease with myself. I saw him glancing up a few times, and I kinda liked that. I was starting to feel more sexy. Was it the way he looked at me? Or the way he treated me now? Or was it simply the chastity, stopping me from putting out the fire of my arousal every morning in the shower and forcing it to build up into an inferno? Maybe it was all of the above. Whatever it was, by the time I was naked, with only the chastity on my body, I was feeling slinky and sensual, and I slid into bed alongside him and cuddled up to his side. He obligingly lifted an arm and draped it around me, while he pecked and poked at the food one-pawed.
	We chatted for a while. I can’t remember what about. Something mundane. Probably about the activities for later in the day. No, not those kinds of activities. I’d like to say that my life became a whirlwind of sex and kink. I mean, it did, but that was a lot later, when I founded CKC. At the time, life carried on much the way it did; with Lethias casually ordering me around, with me getting a shameful little thrill every time, and with only a few minor changes; such as my new nakedness in our room, and the god damn chastity device.
	Not so much a minor change, really. The days passed, with a little routine sinking in; each morning I would wake him by playing with his morning hardon. It started off with just my paw, but I soon learned the joys of suckling on it. Taking the whole length in my mouth came later. I didn’t start out a porn star, after all. But oh how good it felt, to crawl in under the covers and nestle myself between his legs and just...nurse at that big thick rodent cock until he painted my tongue with his cum.
	And then we’d get up and just be...normal. Apart from the nakedness and the chastity, of course.
	But as the days passed, and the length of time between my present moment and my last orgasm grew wider and wider, even these normal times started to feel distinctly different. I started to feel that same slinky sensuality I had felt that first morning, but now felt it all the time. Every moment of my day felt so sexy. I felt like I was needy and throbbing for orgasm at every moment. My entire life felt like the minute or so before orgasm, with my paw squeezing my cock and my cum feeling ready to boil over. It was...exhilarating.
	And it was doing things to my mind. I was fantasising about so much more than usual. I fantasised about some things that I still don’t dare to make real today! My mind went to some very naughty places. And it showed in my interactions with Lethias. I would suck his cock to orgasm there under the duvet in the morning, then I would crawl up his body with my mouth full of his cum, purring like crazy, sliding my slim, slinky body against his, nuzzling at his cheek, then bringing my lips to his and bringing him out of his half sleep with a deep, forceful, penetrating kiss that filled his mouth with his own cum and let our tongues dance together in it. He let me do it. No complaints. Perhaps an early sign of the submissive life he would discover for himself years later.
He seemed to thrive on it. His paws would grip my rear and I would dance against him as we kissed, fired up with lust that I knew I wouldn’t get quenched any time soon. And inevitably, his cock would be eager for round two after that, and I was more than eager to give him it; slow and gentle and luxurious this time, with an orgasm that would spray all over his tummy, for me to lick clean, before working my way up his body to taste the sweat under his arms and at his neck. By the time showers and breakfast happened, he was more than ready to start the day, glowing with satisfaction, while I buzzed with endless eager lust.
	We went to the cinema mid-week, after we had both finished our day at the university. It was the first time we’d done anything “datey”, and he didn’t disappoint. He kept a possessive arm around my shoulders as we walked there. I positively radiated with satisfaction. Like a lady being shown off at some classy party. In those days you would get the occasional amused stare, but I didn’t care. And Lethias certainly didn’t look like a guy you’d want to notice you looking at him funny. I clung to him, feeling great, right up until we got to the ticket booth and he had me pay for the both of us. And then I felt different. That same kind of scrunched up, tiny, weak and manipulated shivery shudder feeling that I got when he bossed me around at home. And this time it was out in public, a whole other level to how things were now. And he led me into the cinema with me walking a little unsteadily, trying to ignore the tight feeling inside the chastity.
	And there, in the darkness, in a pair of seats mid row, near the back, while some dreadful romantic comedy played, he dropped something small and shiny in my lap. I nearly dropped it onto the floor in my sudden surprise. I scooped it up and stared at it, then looking at him with confusion. Never before had I been so delighted to see a key.
	“Well,” he whispered. “Go on then.” He nodded towards the screen, where the story’s inevitable clichéd climax was fast approaching. “You don’t have long.”
	I put my near empty box of popcorn onto the empty seat next to me and made a move to stand up. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.
	“Where are you going?”
	“To the toilets,” I said. “To...you know.”
	“No you don’t.” He tugged me right back down into my seat. “You do it here.”
	“What?” I said, a little too loudly. I glanced around and hunkered further down into my seat. “What do you mean here?” I hissed.
	The light from the screen flickered over his smiling face. “Take your chastity off,” he said. “And paw off right here. Or not. It’s up to you. But this is the only chance you’re getting.”
	I whined. I gripped the key harder. “But why here? I want…” I bite my lip and reached to squeeze his forearm. “Can’t we do it back home? Where we can...you know? Where you can-”
	“What, suck your cock?”
	“Shh!”
	“Yeah, that’s not happening. You suck my cock. I don’t suck yours.” He patted my paw, then lifted it up and deposited it into my lap. “You just paw off all by yourself. In public.”
	I whined, pleadingly, as if hoping I could guilt him into relenting. It didn’t work.
	“Or I could just not let you at all,” he said. He held out his paw. “You can just give me the key back.”
	“No! I’ll do it.” I bit my lip. “Sir.”
	I looked around again. Our row was empty, but other rows weren’t. I estimated that the cinema was about a quarter full. I scooted down into the seat even more, until my butt was almost slid off it entirely. I glanced up at the screen. The guy was running around town, searching for the girl. It had to be near the end. I felt a sudden strange urge to laugh as I unzipped my jeans and fumbled around to get the key into the locking bolt. While the film approached its climax, I was going to be seeking my own.
	“Let me see,” he whispered, reaching over and pushing my arm out of the way. He slid his paw down between my thighs and pushed them apart. I panted out a shaky breath as I eased the unlocked device off my sheath and watched as my cock almost instantly started to swell out of it. I searched around for somewhere to dump the device. I dropped it into the near empty popcorn box.
	“Go on then,” he said. “Better hurry. The film’s almost over.”
	I stifled a whine. It wasn’t fair. After all this time of waiting, I really didn’t want to have to waste it all on a rushed pawing off in a cinema seat, with no stimulation, and with no pleasure from my boyfriend. But I also didn’t want to wait longer either. I gripped my cock and started to pump. I bit my lip hard, having to suppress my instinctive moan. I felt his breath against my ear. Low murmurs, too quiet for me to discern the words, but I could hear the tone. It was gently mocking, teasing, and I could imagine what the words might have been; such a needy, horny little kitty...no shame, pawing off like an addicted little cock slut...unable to stop himself. Just needs to paw off and cum all over himself, right there in public. What a dirty kitten.
	I leaned against his shoulder, mewling under my breath. I clung to his chest with my other paw, while I stroked myself faster, getting closer. It wouldn’t take long. I was on a hair trigger after so long denied.
	“Or,” he whispered, breath tickling my ear. “You could wait. You could stop pawing. You could lock yourself back up and give me back the key.”
	My stroking paw slowed, hesitating. My cock screamed, wanting more stimulation.
	“What?” I gasped.
	“You could cum now. Or, you could not.”
	“But I want to,” I whispered, squeezing my fingers around the head of my cock, not stroking now. It felt so good. Just one more stroke, maybe two, and I would feel orgasm. It would be so good. After so long. Days and days of lust all built up and ready to explode. I ached for it. My mouth felt dry. On the screen, the final swell of orchestral climax was building, and it wouldn’t be long now before the credits were rolling and the lights were up and I would be out of time.
	“It would make me happy,” he said, “if you chose...not to cum.”
	I tensed up, and I felt him do the same. I had pricked his arm with my claws. I let out an unhappy whimper.
	“That’s not fair!”
	“I’m giving you the choice, kitten.” He turned his head slightly, kissing at my cheek. “Make me happy, or make yourself happy. It’s up to you.”
	God how I hated and loved him at that moment. He had me. He knew he had me. I knew he had me. And I knew this was his idea all along. Tempt me with freedom and then watch me willingly and inevitably choose to walk back into captivity. Slowly, carefully, I peeled my fingers off my twitching cock, looking mournfully at it in the dim light. So close. I could feel the shadow of the approaching orgasm. But now I had to fall back away from the brink. I felt close to tears.
	“How am I going to get it back into the chastity?”
	Oh how he grinned. Oh how it made me shiver. I almost orgasmed without touch, just from the sight of that grin. He reached across me and cupped his paw across my mouth, gagging me with it. I clenched my eyes shut and braced myself. I had wisely guessed what was coming.
	The pain of the fingers of his other paw squeezing my poor, overfilled balls was even worse than it had been the first time so many days ago. I cried out into his paw and squirmed in the seat. I fought as hard as I could to stay quiet and still, but it was almost impossible! The pain blossomed white hot and ugly and overwhelmed everything else. If anyone did notice or hear, I was too wrapped up in my suffering to know or care. I blubbered quietly into his paw and rode out the agony.
	After an absolute eternity, my cock was soft again, retreated reluctantly back into my sheath. He lifted his paws off me, the one from my muzzle coming away wet with saliva. He wiped it on my cheek and patted my muzzle. The credits were about to roll.
	“Better get locked up fast,” he said. “Don’t want to get caught with your cock out.”
	I grabbed the chastity and fought with my tender, aching balls and a cock that was eager to swell half-hard as I stuffed it back into the cage. I looked up to him, pleading for help, as the names of the cast started scrolling up the screen and the others in the cinema were starting to rustle and shift about, gathering up their stuff to get up and leave...to walk right past our row.
	“Please,” I whispered.
	“Better hurry,” he said, putting his paws behind his head and leaning back in his seat.
	In a blind panic I somehow managed to get the device fitted together, pinching skin and making me yelp. I turned the key and yanked my zip up, just as the first people started moving past our row towards the exit. I exhaled and closed my eyes. Made it.
	“Do you have something for me?” he said.
	Opening my eyes, and pouting sulkily, I passed the key back to him and watched it disappear away.
	“Aww, don’t be like that,” he said, patting my paw, then gripping and squeezing it. It was quite affectionate, really. And I felt a little of my sulk melt away. “When we get back home, I’ll let you give me a nice long blowjob. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
	I looked away, down at the floor, with the expression of someone who wants to stay angry...but can’t. I found myself unable to not smile. I gave his arm a small thump with the paw he wasn’t holding, then sighed and poked an annoyed finger at my locked up crotch.
	“That sounds nice, sir,” I said.