Dispatches: Amber's Belt

For a belt likewise now she

Must wear around her waist,

About her bare flesh laced,

And she must love whoever

Might undo it yet not sever

Its fastening, nor it destroy.

In the Lay of Guigemar written by Marie de France in the 12 th century, the hero, Guigemar gave his lover a belt that is now interpreted as one of the first references to a chastity belt. He allows that should any man remove it without cutting it while he is away, he will permit his love to take that man as a lover. This is after, for the same reason, the woman tied his shirt so tight that only she could remove it. The man is then apprehended and sent home to his own country, the woman is captured, and many men try unsuccessfully to remove the belt. Eventually, Guigemar finds his way back to his love and she unties his shirt. There is a battle over the woman and all live happily ever after. It's a lovely example of courtly love and a very egalitarian form of orgasm denial. Curiously, the woman is never released from the belt.

Guigemar was the brand of chastity belt used by Master Hastur LeGuin. They were of high quality and had customizable elements. Chastity, rather than a courtly promise of fidelity, was a common punishment for slaves who misbehaved in a sexual manner. None of Master LeGuin's harem was more acquainted with this infuriating device than the prolifically promiscuous maid, Amber Mackie.

The slave parlor was quiet. The wall clock read one o'clock. Mid-day sun filled the room and illuminated book cases, the chess board, and the slave's communal television. Frustratingly, it also illuminated Alan's laptop screen in an awful glare. He was sitting at the small writing desk that was positioned near the sliding door to the patio. He had his laptop out and was sipping a wonderful cup of coffee that Miyuki, one of the kitchen slaves, had just brought him from the café. His concentration was broken when he heard an exasperated grunt come from the hallway outside. Alan looked up in time to see Amber Mackie stomp into the room and flop down backwards on the couch that was perpendicular to where Alan was sitting. She wore her maid uniform, and her pale, ample breasts threatened to make an escape as she bounced onto the couch. Alan had noticed that there was some leeway in what the maids could wear, and Amber favored flouncier cuts. These uniforms tended to encourage malfunctions. Amber was likely well aware of this. From Alan's vantage point he could see the soft mounds of her breasts as if from above, resting on her chest under her black blouse. Looking up from that, he saw her entire lower half nearly exposed as the skirt fell towards her belly. Her adorably short legs stuck up from the arm of the couch. Alan was fighting his gentlemanly urge not to glance at where her skirt had fallen away from her hips. But when the boyish urge to gawk took over, he noticed metal glinting in the sunlight, pressing into her soft, yielding flesh.

"Hello, Amber," he said. Amber raised her head rapidly, her maid's bonnet askew.

"Oh, hello Mr. Merrick," she said as she flopped her head back down. A pillow toppled onto her face. In her melancholy she did not move it. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Just writing."

From the cushioned exile came a muffled "Mmmm.... You write a lot."

"Well.... it is my job," he responded. Amber didn't say anything. Alan surmised that there was a story to be told here, so he pressed on, "Everything okay? I notice your uniform looks... different."

Amber rose up fully this time. Her freckled face scrunched and quizzical.

"What?" she asked. Alan gestured to the reflection.

"Your um... undergarments." She turned and looked back.

"Oh... this stupid thing. Yeah, I got put in chastity today. I hate it," she said, flopping her head back down.

"How long are you in for?" Alan asked. Keeping her head down, Amber raised her arms in a headless 'How should I know!' gesture.

"What did your Master say?"

"He said it's up to Vanessa, so it could be the rest of my life," Amber whined as she flopped her arms back down. He figured a lifetime sentence was an exaggeration, as Amber was prone to exaggeration. Her Master also never struck him as that cruel. Regardless, this was proving to be an exciting anthropological opportunity. His only experience with a chastity belt had been in Robin Hood: Men in Tights. He hadn't seen the film in ages, though now he was wondering if that film had not planted some seeds in his mind, and elsewhere, that were beginning to grow now. He crossed his legs and turned toward his subject.

"Do you wear it ALL the time?"

"Yes. Twenty-four seven," Amber said into the pillow.

"For everything?" At this, Amber lifted her head and then sat up. She gave Alan that quizzical look again.

"Yes, for everything," she said bluntly as she stood and adjusted her uniform to get everything back in it's proper place.

"Even.....?"

At that, Amber smiled.

"Yes. Even then."

Alan beheld the woman in front of him. She sized him up as well, a small smirk developing on her face and pushing up her rosy cheeks. They remained looking at each other for a time. Alan raised his eyebrows and innocently asked,

"How?"

"What do you mean? It's built into the chastity belt to allow for.... that."

"Forgive me. I've never seen one up close."

Amber turned toward Alan, genuinely intrigued.

"Really?" she said, pulling up a chair to sit by him. Her hips clinked slightly as she sat carefully so as not to mar the wood, which may result in further punishment.

"We don't use them where I'm from," he said matter-of-factly. "We don't have slaves."

"You keep saying that. Do you really mean it? No slaves at all?" she pressed. Alan felt the pricks of sweat all over his body. This was a bizarre issue to explain to a fellow adult.

"Well," he said, "Some people live lives similar to yours, but it's a very small minority. We had slaves once, still do in a lot of places, but it's the... bad kind."

"You mean...."

"They didn't choose it."

".... oh." This shocked him because Phoebe, the courtesan who had been providing is decreasingly awkward morning wakeup, had told him about learning about historical slavery from the rest of the world at the Slave Academy. He had a theory that the knowledge of chattel slavery, the kind that didn't come with a mutually negotiated contract, was partially why Phoebe had seemed so cold to him. This consensual submission on Nova Insula was something altogether different than historical slavery. Phoebe had seemed to view the historical variety not just as society's original sin, but as a perversion of her culture's own values. Alan made a mental note to probe deeper into the mind of the aloof courtesan who provided his morning wakeup service. As he turned his mind back to the slave in front of him, he guessed that Amber wasn't a full academy slave, and he was sure she wasn't an A+ student in school. He decided to move on.

"Yeah. Anyway. Show me how this belt works," he said. At that, Amber's eyes lit up, and she smiled wide.

"Yes Sir!" she said as she sprang up and lifted her skirt. There, squeezing her pale waist, was a shining metal belt with an arm that held a wide lozenge shape completely covering her pubic region. The lozenge shape was fitted firmly to her smooth skin and caused it to bulge slightly. After the lozenge, the arm narrowed between her thighs. Around the metal edges, there was bright red padding. He knew Master LeGuin had these custom made and fitted for all the slaves, so the red must have been chosen specifically to coordinate with Amber's long mane of scarlet. He couldn't yet see what it looked like from behind. But over where her vulva was, there was a small grate, slightly raised from the rest.

Alan's eyes betrayed his interest because Amber nearly levitated with excitement as she spun turned around to show him the rear. Her hair and unsecured parts of her hair twirled in an adorably girlish way. As she came to the end she bounced on her heels slightly as if to punctuate the landing. Her pale cheeks gave a pleasing shake around the red-lined metal. There was another small lozenge shape between them, right where her anus was. The presence of the lozenge spread her cheeks just enough that they bulged slightly more than usual around her thighs. This had a pleasing effect on someone already possessing such a striking peach shape. In the center of this lozenge was a plug that looked like a twist lock. He could guess what he was looking at, but as any good journalist ought to; he let his belted docent do most of the talking, she seemed so eager after all.

"Well Sir, what do you think?" Amber asked, looking Alan expectantly in the eyes. In a strategic moment of bashfulness, he gave a combination of "ums" and "Ah... well"s. Usually this sort of strategy worked with subject who liked to be in control. Despite the collar around her neck, Alan thought that described Amber accurately. He was right and soon she lost patience. She took a step forward, grabbed Alan's hands, and placed them on the belt. Amber took her hands off and looked down at him expectantly.

"Well, go on, Sir."

"What?" he asked. The bashfulness was becoming real at this point. He had not anticipated she would be this forward.

"Try to get in!" When he hesitated, she grabbed his hands again and made him grab the belt. She shook his wrists. "You heard me Sir, try and get to me."

Understanding what was being requested of him, Alan Merrick cautiously slid his fingers along the red padding of the metal belt. He took his time and felt all the way down toward the lozenge-shaped panel at the cleft of her hips. He paused there.

"Don't worry. It's clean. I pee through that little grate that's in there where your finger is. I clean it with the bidet and disinfect it when I'm done though."

"Ah... good," he said as he ran his fingers along the grate; it was warm from her body heat. "What about..." curiosity had gotten the better of him. Amber chuckled at him. "There's a hole in the back with a plug. If I take it out and I'm not in the bathroom, it sends an alert to Vanessa's phone. It's awful," she said with a frown.

"So, no chance of pleasure? I noticed your breasts are still free." Amber let out a 'harrumph' noise.

"I've never been able to orgasm from just my nipples. I need to be filled to cum," Amber said matter-of-factly. Alan blinked. He was slowly getting used to just how casually the Nova Insulans spoke about explicit sexual topics. Though, based on the way Amber glanced up at him through downturned eyes, he was beginning to think she enjoyed trying to make him uncomfortable.

"Ah. That must be frustrating."

"Incredibly." Amber gave a theatrical sigh, "So, keep going. Keep trying! I want you to see how tight it is!"

Amber was not the only one of the slaves that had made passes at him. Tambara liked to flirt with him on and off, though Hastur had described her as being Vanessa's wife, so he wasn't certain how that relationship functioned. Nora Holmes, the young reluctant maid had made many comments to him so far, though Dan, one of the male courtesans had warned him to steer clear of her and Alex, another male courtesan had offered to educate him on the male form. Amber was different. She was perhaps the sloppiest of the bunch. He was not surprised that she was the most frequent punished of this group. As he was thinking about this, he absentmindedly ran his hands along the belt. He felt like he was about to burst the zipper on his pants. Amber noticed this.

"You're not even trying hard at all," Amber complained impatiently. He was again caught without an answer. Before he could think of anything, she continued with "Do you want me to help you?"

"Um...." Was all Alan managed to say before she was grabbing his wrist and pressing his hand hard onto her shielded crotch. She hissed into his ear through gritted teeth.

"Grab it, Sir. Rip it off. Expose my cunt. Sir, it wants your touch so bad. I'm dripping through this god damned grate." She was indeed. There was wetness on Alan's fingers. As he became aware of this, Amber to let out the most pathetic, frustrated whine he had ever heard. She stomped her feet slightly, and he saw the skin of her legs jiggle slightly. The ripple traveled up her fatty thigh and across her ass. It stopped at the red lining of the belt. She pressed his hand against her; his other hand instinctively went around her waist, and he pulled her close to him, and his face pressed into her breasts resting inside her soft maid's dress. In this moment, he ceased being a journalist. He became base. There was no courtly love here. He was a sex-crazed creature clawing at his obstacle. He grabbed tightly onto Amber's small fat rolls with one hand and tugged at her cunt cage with the other. It was completely secure.

"Sir, I need to be fucked," she panted.

Without thinking, he began pawing at her clothes to get to her bare flesh. Once he found it, he inhaled the sweet perfumed scent that came from a thorough wash in the communal slave showers. He began to plant frenzied kisses on her chest, and his free hand found her breasts and began to squeeze. Amber let out another whine. Alan's fingers found her nipples, and he pinched as hard as he could. Releasing the infernal belt, his other hand traveled around and grabbed what it could of the flesh of her rear. Amber was panting hard now.

Just then, just as his instincts were telling him to throw her down on the couch and find some way to take her, Alan decided to come up for air only to glimpse Master LeGuin smiling at him from behind Amber. Alan reared back and pushed Amber away.

"Hastur!" Alan said in shock.

"Alan!" he said jovially.

"Master!" Amber shrieked and dropped to her knees. She immediately began to tear up. "Master, I didn't mean to... well I did mean to but I... Master I just want to... but I... and he was... and I..."

"Amber. Stop talking," Hastur said calmly. She did so. He looked back at Alan and smiled again.

"I thought I might find you here, Alan. I was going to ask if you wanted to go for a walk, and I can show you some other parts of the city. But I see you're occupied." Alan had no idea how to respond.

"I... um... Hastur--Mr.--Master LeGuin--I am so sorry." LeGuin held up a hand. Alan stopped immediately. Master LeGuin did carry a certain charisma that was hard to say no to.

"Please, my friend, my fault entirely! I made it clear to you that you had free reign over any slave you wanted to use while you were here, but I neglected to consider that one of them may get themselves locked up! Silly me for thinking everybody would be on better behavior during your stay with us." The statement was clearly meant to be a reprimand of the red-headed housemaid kneeling on the floor.

"Master I'm sor-" Amber started to blubber.

"Do not speak," Master LeGuin said sternly. She stopped talking again.

"Honestly, Amber, what are we going to do with you? I suppose you'll get the bra to match the belt next." Amber whimpered at that. Hastur grabbed one of her shoulders and pushed her upright to investigate her breasts which were still exposed. "God damn, Merrick, you've got a grip!" Alan realized in horror that he had left a bruise on her soft white breast when he squeezed. The Master of the house looked at him again, releasing his slave momentarily, "Did she even show you the best part?"

"Um..."

"Here, look, stand Amber." As she did so he grabbed the belt roughly and pulled Amber all the way to one side. He pointed to a laser etching on the waist of the belt that read 'Amber's special panties.' Master LeGuin chuckled. "Every slave has a custom set, but only one is in them so much we had them engraved." He smacked Amber hard on the ass, adding yet more color to her pale, Irish skin, and she got back into her position. He looked at him again.

"Like I was saying, Alan, you have free reign of anyone you want, but if someone is in chastity like our little red fox here, I ask you resist the urge. It's bad for their behavior. You understand?"

"Of course. I'd hate to... um... compromise... their... learning." Alan had met with terrorist leaders, arms dealers, and psychopaths and never stuttered once, but in none of those instances was he coming down from a truly animalistic erection. Ever as perceptive as anyone in his culture, Master LeGuin let out a chuckle and looked at his pants.

"I'd still like a walk, but if you need relief, I'm sure someone is available." He reached for his small radio on his belt. Alan nearly shouted.

"No! No, that's fine. I'll um... just pack up here, and we'll go wherever," he said as he hastily stuffed his laptop and notebook back in his bag.

"Lovely!" Hastur turned and looked at the now quiet ball of slave at his feet. "Ah, right... well. I'll call Vanessa. She'll deal with you. I'll deal with you tonight. Safe to say you will not be sleeping in your own bed this evening. Or 'a' bed. Go up to Amber's office and kneel outside it. Tell her what happened whenever she has time to deal with you." Amber stood and did a sort of half run out of the room to avoid being seen to cry. Hastur and Alan watched in silence for a moment, and then he turned to him.

"Complete nymphomaniac, that one. There are probably steps to be taken to mitigate that, but I'd be lying if I said she didn't liven up the place. Keeps poor Vanessa busy though." He chuckled again. "Anyway, I thought we could get lunch in town, and I could show you a proper Nova Insulan dog park! You'll love it."

"Can I take a wild guess and say there will be no actual canines there?" he asked. Hastur smiled at that.

"None at all. We have special parks for that." He winked. "I believe you're catching on to our ways! We're going to take Ha Phung Anh for a walk. The all-fours kind. Have you ever put a butt plug in someone?" he asked nonchalantly as he turned to exit.

"Never," he replied.

"Oh, it's fun!" Master LeGuin said. "Get your shoes and things and I'll meet you at the door." And with that he turned and left as swiftly as he had arrived.

Alan was left standing trying to process what had just occurred. The shame of losing his composure so thoroughly, and with a subject, was occupying a large part of his mind. This job was testing his journalistic ethics. He was frustrated with himself. However, he was also frustrated that Master LeGuin had interrupted when he had. And that frustration may have outweighed the shame.