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Four steel dividers fit between her toes to keep them pointed straight and to prevent them from rubbing against each other. The shoes also covered her entire foot. Her toes, ankles, arch, everything was completely incased in a steel boot extending just above her ankle. She was so happy to see her human toes disappear beneath the steel covers that she could not wait to have them in place.

A year has passed since that fateful night and things have changed very little. Surprisingly Wendy is leading an average life all things considered. The hygiene problems I thought we would never overcome have not been an issue.

The glue beneath the metal must have soaked into the pores and prevented her from sweating. She still showers daily but has had no drawbacks from the inability to towel herself off in those areas. The same has occurred with the foam that incased her legs for so long. Any moisture from showering or sweating has no negative effects on her legs.

Every other month we unlock and roll down her stockings and find the same things. Her legs are still covered in foam but are in healthy condition.

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Each month she looks at her legs, a shadow of their former glory, and immediately begs for them to be recovered. Her hair is still growing at the normal rate through the steel inlet at the top of her head. We have debated trying to cut the back of her helmet off but she has become so accustomed to the look that it does not bother her nearly as much as it originally did.

Her breasts still throb to this day and are a constant source of pain. Although we have no way to tell for sure, we hope that there was no infection from the piercing. Her body is almost completely covered now. About 3 months after the shoes were installed we had went to another bondage show. While we were there she fell in love with a woven steel top and spent a great deal of time talking with the owner.

She is now the proud owner of two chaine-maile sleeves which have been weld together in the back and then welded onto the breast harness along the back strap, collar and cup straps. The outfit was custom made by appointment and is very heavy due to the tightly interlocked links. It is also very secure due to the hundreds of rings pierced through her skin to hold it in place. She is very happy with the results and is still seeking ways of covering what remains of her body.

After the addition of the metal sleeves there is a small triangular patch of flesh above her breast beneath her collar and her midsection under the breast harness and above the belt. Every month she bends forward and sees those unsightly fuzzy legs with the chunks of foam and metal thigh bands clinging to her legs. She begs me to have a steel band welded around her midsection to secure the breast harness and belt as one unit.

She nearly convinced me to buy a corset to cover and compress her midsection beyond all comprehension. But every month I tell her no, insert an inflatable gag in her mouth and suspend her by her hair until she drops the subject.

The chastity belt I am wearing is very effective and totally foolproof, as I have discovered in recent weeks of continuous wear.

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And I do mean continuous since it has proved beyond my means to take it off since the time I first put it on! Not that this happened by accident. I have always been mildly interested in that sort of thing and often wondered how the ladies coped with being festooned with a great iron belt, sometimes for literally years on end, whilst their husbands went off on a Crusade.

So I give them a ring and find out more about them. The young lady who answered the phone was very helpful, explained in a little more detail what I had already read, assured me that they did the same job as the 12th Century version but with about one-tenth the weight, and quoted a price of L5.

If I wanted I could also buy a matching metal bra for a further L5. Encouraged by her matter of fact way, I asked if they were much inconvenience to the wearer. I was quite surprised when she openly said that she had worn one a few times, but never for more than an evening to local parties, and claimed that the boys had shown more interest than if she had just gone wearing a bra and panties. I also found out that they would sell over the counter, that it was a one-size fit and would.

I could get one that day if I so wanted. And what time they closed at night. I had enough money with me in my purse, and it was still only just after a. I could get there and back in my lunch hour if I hurried.

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But I would miss lunch. Never mind, if I was going to spend L5. My lunch hour is p. to p. As time passed I found myself drawn to checking bus routes and time tables. Yes, I could get a through bus. It ran every 15 minutes and took 20 minutes or thereabouts for the trip.

If I caught one at p. I could be there by p. A quick check on the return shown a bus leaving at p. which would get me back to within a few minutes walk of the office by p. at the earliest - perhaps p. By this time I think I was already a lost cause. I was thinking up ways to get the additional time off without just taking it, and finally approached the manager to ask if I could have an extra 30 minutes off at lunchtime if I made it up that evening.

He was very understanding and asked if it was important, and I said that it was, to me. How long did I really want? Try and keep it to 15 minutes if you can, then perhaps we can forget about working late tonight. Hooray, I had made it! By p. I was on the starting line, and at p. was clear of the building. The bus was about on time, and all the way to the destination I wondered if I was an idiot or a fool for doing it.

and I was off the bus, walking to the address I was given. It looked a very ordinary type of shop front, with nothing in the window but dust. A chair scraped, and a young girl came in. this morning? I get calls all the time. What was it about?

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Can I see one please? Quite a matter of fact. No nonsense. She pulled a box from under the counter turned back the tissue paper and revealed a nicely displayed belt, gleaming copper, neat silver chains, and unusually designed lock.

She russled some papers under the counter once more and came up with a quite small parcel, sealed with sticky tape.

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You save on postage and packing. I looked at my watch. It was already p. I mean to put on properly? We have a changing room through here if you would like to come along. She led the way to the back of the shop, where I found a small cubicle curtained off. Inside was a chair and a mirror. This is the first time I have ever worn one of these.

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My assistant was already there, and unzipped me. Shaking inwardly, I stepped out of my dress and laid it over the chair. There was nowhere to hide, and I had already asked her to stop and help.

So I turned half sideways and slipped my panties off. By this time the paper wrap was on the floor, and she was jangling copper and silver around, sorting it out. Not that it took her long. Just make sure that the front is in position and not awkward im amy way. Then we have to take up these side chains and bring them round to meet at your right side here, where the lock takes up the loose ends.

Now before we do that, how tight do you want it to be? Is that O. for you? And the lock was in situ, and I was belted up. I belt down to put my panties back on and was immediately aware of the metal parting my legs, plus the tug of the chain around my waist. It was not all that unpleasant. Once I had my panties on the young lady was already holding my dress ready for me to step back into, and zipped it up.

I picked up my bag, thanked her for her assistance, asked the quickest way to the station, and made for the door. I was sure the whole world could see me emerge from the shop, and knew that I had been belted up and was watching my first steps into a loveless world. But I got there, bought my ticket and caught a train almost immediately. The train journey was much quicker than the bus, but left me a little further to walk at the other end, and it was p. before I got into the office.

I made my presence known to the manager, thanked him for the time, and said I would work a bit later anyway to catch up. Into the toilet, and down with the panties. This was the first real consideration I had to give on how to spend a penny. Not over hygenic, but I managed, and then spent a minute or two checking over my equipment.

Then it dawned. I had no key. I must have left them in the shop in my haste to get away. They closed well before I could hope to get there that evening. It meant I would have to wear the belt all night and at least part of the next day. Phone calls are not entirely encouraged at the office, and I had already made one that day, and had 20 minutes extra time off in the bargain. I could hardly ask for another call.

And by the time I got out of the office, they would be closed. I was stuck, but good. The evening and night were quite exciting in their way.

After all, I was only wearing it for a night, whereas the ladies of the 12th C. wore one for years. And I had fulfilled an ambition, which had also cost L5, so I decided to make the most of it all and enjoy my situation. The next day at work I was faced with the problem of how to once again get time off and go and fetch the keys; it would be easier to get another telephone call and ask for them to be posted to me - although this would mean that I would be trapped for at least another day - perhaps two.

It was a hell of a decision to make, but at least I could call and ask if the keys were there. This I did. A man answered. The young lady was not there, could he help. Stone me. What a situation! No keys, no young lady, try in the morning. It was Thursday, and if she posted the keys off on Friday it was touch and go if they would arrive on Saturday, or if I would have to wait until Monday morning.

Even the ladies in the 12th C. managed to get out of them eventually! Tights were out. It had to be pantie girdle and stockings for me now. Another night in chains. Another funny walk to the office, sur I was being stared at. Another telephone call? My goodness, it must be important. Again, that man. No idea,try Monday.

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Possibility of spare keys? Had I one they could match - without it virtually impossible. Had any keys been left lying around. Not that he knew. Stalemate until Monday. The weekend was again a bit unusual for me, although I adjusted quite well to my new and continuing situation. Not too much running about, but a bath showed no rusting to me encouragement.

Another call? Does Mr. Wood know? Well, perhaps just this once, but really you are doing it rather hard.

and too

Spoil it for the others, you know. The same man. No young lady. No knowledge if whereabouts or when she would be back. All he could suggest was keep in touch. Keys very tricky things, really one-off on rather special locks. I take it that you are wearing it and want it off.

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Catching on at last. I hope you can help? I was staggered. He obviously thought I had been belted up by a non-existent husband and wanted out. And I had no idea how long for. I had already spent six days belted up, and would cheerfully have taken it off there and then and dropped all five quids worth in the Thames had I had a chance. It fitted snugly - not too tight - but too tight to slip off, or round, or down, or anything.

When we had put it on we both made sure it as just right. And frankly the fit was in fact just right. After work I found a phone after queueing for one and tried to reach the man again. There was no reply - as I already knew, they went home at the same time as I did.

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There was nothing for it but to go home for one more night and trysomehow, again tomorrow. phone whilst boy friends phoned their girl friends on reversed charges, and vice versa, on calls that apparently go on for ever.

Eventually it was my turn. After all, I really did need his help. A strange voice answerde.

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I went through the rigmorale of explaining that I wanted to speak to the young lady, or failing that, the man who answered the phone in her absence. I seemed pointless explaining my predicament and starting all over again - but than again, perhaps this one might help? I breifly outlined my story, but before I could finish he jumped in with:.

No hope love, if we were to take that belt off you we could shut down the works tomorrow. Name in the paper if you can. Would ber very good for business.

How could I? I mean it ould be just too embarassing. Can you please say when, er, Janet will be back? Joe will know though, if he went round to find out like he said he was going to. Sometime he came back early, sometime late. It all depended. Like, could I phone again at say 5. after normal hours and speak to Joe? This was getting me nowhere. I whisked out of the office building at 5. sharp, and made for the phone kiosks which as usual were all full. But luck was in, and I managed to get in one that was on a three minute call.

Through to the number. It seemed to ring endlessly, and once again it seemed I was doomed to yet another night as the victim of my own carefully planned escapade.

Then, somewhat to my surprise as I had already decided that they had all gone, the phone was answered by the m,an I had spoken to earlier. No, Joe had gone but he had had a word with him about me and Janet. Joe said that she just got fed up with putting assorted birds in shackles and decided to pack it in. Not getting any more money or anything, but just wanted a change.

Got to get a new bird here I suppose, though Gawd knows who. Mind you, they all wanted it, but needed a bit of persuasion to take the final plunge so to speak. Like you did. Think it must be a combination of the subconsciuous and sheer exitement of the moment that made them do it, but Jan used to reckon on one in four she fitted up went off without them. After a bit she used to put them all in a box in case any of them changed their minds, but the fall out rate was so low that after a while she brought them all down to the works and we knocked them up.

Please, miss, this is more than my job is worth. And I did stay back to give you the facts. Now be a good girl and let us alone. So, for all my trouble all I had to show was the news that Janet had gone to a pickle factory. Now I knew it had beaten me, nicely clamped between my legs and moderately tight around my waist.

Undoubtedly I was as belted up as any 12th century madam had ever been, although they at least could look forward to their eventual release albeit in three or four years.

For me, no one would return with the key. For me I would have to stay belted up, with no sign on the horizon of how I may ever get free again. The weeks have come and gone, but the tight inward satisfaction of HAVING to wear a chastity belt, as opposed to wanting to try one on for a laugh, continues.

I have come to terms with myself, and with life in general. There are things that I cannot now do that I would otherwise have done, such as crossing my legs when I sit. Sunbathing is out, although I have considered buying the special matching bra top and using what I then have as a sun-suit. I can wear loose fitting briefs over my belt, but skin-tight ones are not really on. Pantie-tights are O. I have to be careful not to wear any tightish skirts, or the chains which run diagonally across my bottom become visible through it.

But the inconveniences involved are outweighted for me by the sheer pleasure of knowing, and having to accept, that I am really hopelessly stuck. And so, after five weeks I have adapted to a new way of chaste existence. Her job seemed to be to fit the belts and then have the unwanted keys smashed up, not as a licksmith to fretting females who had changed their minds after the first mad flush of fun. The seventh week, a rather trying one for me, brought the decision to once more persuade Joe, or his new assistant, if he had one to unlock my belt.

I had adapted to it very well, accepted it so to speak and was living within its restrictions quite literally! but a difficult week made me try to obtain my release from it. After all this time a phone call from the office would surely be permitted without raise eyebrows, or perhaps even another personal visit to the workshop. Phone first perhaps.

Can you supply duplicates? Do you have a spare?

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Do you have Master key my friend could borrow? As a security operation it would be like us making safes and selling spare keys to anyone who came in for one.

I said it as a plea, but as soon as the words had left my mouth I knew I had phrased it wrongly. I see. If I came round to see you could you help. What the customers do with their purchase after they leave the shop is entirely up to them. But our job is to make and sell chastity belts. Now be a good girl and run along home.

Seven weeks, you must be missing it by now, poor kid. That evening I made a complete reappraisal of my situation, and examined the belt in close detail by means of a mirror. It further reassured me that it was not going to fall off me. The copper frontpiece had gone rather dull, so I gave it a polish and was surprised how well I managed to make it shine.

Anyone who saw me at work with a tin of metal polish would have been lost for an answer as to just what I was doing, and the thought made me laugh out loud. I suppose their contact with my clothing had kept them bright, whereas copper would have a natural tendency to dull down a little.

Tha chains themselves were not all that thick overall, but the links themselves were thick in relation to the overall width of the chain, if you understand what I mean. I had adapted very well to it all, as I have already said, and wondered how my ancestors in the 12th century got along with their great heavy and totally inflexible love traps.

The early problems with a visit to the loo had been overcome, and about the only inconvenience as such was the inability to cross my legs when I sat down. There were of course even more disasterous contraptions for achieving the same ends, including one which was virtually a tapered steel shell which fitted round the waist and reached almost down to the knees.

Once locked on it must have proved very inconvenient to the wearer, who could not then touch any part of her body between the waist and knees. Think about it. Bending, lying down, sitting, all would pose tremendous problems and about all they could then do would be either stand still all day, or lie prostrate all day. By comparison my version was made of feathers. Whilst the folk of yesteryear may appear rather hard to us in their treatment of the miscreant I suppose the punishment handed out was more or less just if viewed in the complete context of the times, and not several hundred years later through more so-called civilized eyes.

The petty, or wayward, got themselves a few days in the pillory and thereby made a sitting target for anything and everything that came to hand. I suppose the next step up from there was to be locked in the stocks, and whilst the prisoners could had sit down I suspect they were very glad to be able to stand up again at the end of their sentence.

Both would have had a very marked effect on the wrongdoer, and I should think that anyone experiencing the ridicule of the pillory, not to mention having to face up to miscelaneous flying garbage, would be rather keen not to repeat his misdeeds. The stocks would have been even worse, since sleeping would have presented them with quite a problem, assuming that someone cared enough to feed them from time to time, and their mental and physical state after a week or so should have had a most encouraging effect on their future behaviour as citizens.

For the really naughty, one can still see examples of the whipping posts where the prisoner gets a fair stinging before going into the stocks. One assumes that if we owned three chickens and someone came along and stole two of them from us we would feel exactly the same way about it as they did in those days. Except that the comparative values would be more like three cows now, rather than three chickens. And in the context of six or seven hundred years ago it might all seem perfectly right and proper.

Lacing, and sometimes even locking, a young girl into a very overtight corset which stretched from sometimes high under the chin down to the hips, then tying her hands behind her in case she got rebellious and tried to take it off, sounds a bit sadistic. Only in this case I would be a strong supporter of the idea! So the development of a device for keeping ladies chaste was quite logical, for the times.

So when Lord Strongsword made off to the wars he first ensured that no one was going to share his wife in his absence. But time has passed on, and I have accepted my situation. It is now rather more than 10 weeks since belting up day. Guile came to my side one restless evening, when I again pondered on how to free myself from my belt. A plan! They would HAVE to help me take it off.

I could escape. It was a lot of money for a working girl, but I collected it together and without prior announcement of my arrival did another mid-day flip to the works. No push over, but my plans were laid so I pressed on. Yes, she had a Mod Belt I could see, displayed much as before, another wrapped up ready to take away.

I was out of the shop and on my way. It cost me a taxi to be back at work on time, so the outing cost me a lot more than I could afford. At home that evening I unwrapped the belt, and without much hope tried the keys in the lock of the belt I was wearing. Nextday, out of the office at What can I do for you today. Come into the back of the shop and let me have a look for you. I followed her through to the same little changing cubicle with its mirror and chair.

I unzipped the top of my skirt and peeled over the top of my briefs to reveal the lock, handing the keys to her as I did so. Very tricky these things. Down came my briefs an inch or so, but not so far as to be embarrassing for me. Amazon fiddled with the lock and the keys, and ran her fingers around the chain encircling my waist. It went on O. as you can see, but the joke ended when I tried to get it off again.

But your tale is in about Division III. If you had only been wearing that belt for one night your waist would be red where the chain has chaffed against it. Yours looks as though you have been wearing it for not less than a couple of months.

On top of which we stopped using this lock mechanism weeks and weeks ago and replaced it with a modified type so that the customers keep happy. I was on the verge of tears. I nodded my head in agreement. Not that anyone of them has managed it yet. Just put your skirt on and go away will you. Amazon stood there with folded arms whilst I rearranged my dress, and followed me to the door.

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It really did happen like that! Then you can have your name in the paper and we can get some free publicity. The door was closed behind me and I was standing out in the street, the proud possessor of two MOD Chastity Belts, one with two keys and one I was wearing with no keys at all. I got back to the office very late and had to feign sickness to cover my absence.

I worked on in the evening to catch up so I suppose I put the black mark right. Once home I kicked myself for a fool in wasting all that money in a quite abortive attempt to slip a chastity belt I have grown to like wearing, but only when there seemed no hope at all of ever getting free of it. Once such a chance presented itself to me I just had to follow it through to see if I could make it work.

And so far, my endeavour had been a complete failure, and once again with no hope of freedom in sight I enjoyed its metallic caress. It was into the eleventh week. The eleventh long beautiful week of sitting very quietly on toilet seats because of the chinking noise the chains across my bottom would otherwise make; of making excuses for not wanting to go swimming, or sunbathing, of not being able to make up the number in a netball team, or start a little hockey training.

My recreation had to be tailored to my circumstances, and my circumstances had quite decidedly changed. I am experiencing periods of quiet tranquility between an occasional burst of energy aimed at finding a way to escape what I am becoming more and more convinced is the inescapable.

I suspect that Freud would describe these occasional endeavours to shake off my belt as my need for reassurance that I cannot in fact get out of it, and indeed I cannot. I am now in week 14, and over the last three weeks I have made several close inspections of the mechanics of it all, in a continuing reappraisal.

What I have discovered is that the chain which encircles my waist is in fact a little stronger than the four which lead from it to the centrepiece - these are hardly thin. Where the chains join the links appear to have been braised together and polished down so that the join as such is difficult to find, and hardly represents a weak spot. It is the same with the lock, which if anything seems stronger than the chains it holds together.

As already mentioned, the key apperture only appears when two sides of the lock are pressed together, and springs somewhere inside push what seems to be like double doors - double overlapping doors - back from the key aperture. I have made a quite futile attempt to pick the lock - a complete waste of time and effort for by the time I held the lock just so in order to expose the key hole I seemed to need three more hands to get at it. Even then, I have no idea how the mechanism works, but it looks as if it has a double system working on a centre pivot over which the key slips.

If somehow I was able to find a method of cutting through the chains, without cutting me at the same time, it would help.

10 Dark Secrets Women's Prisons Kept Locked Up

Except that the chains themselves are very close to me, every link of the way. Snug, without being really tight, but tight enough to prevent hacking away at them with something sharp, without getting hacked. The choice would be to cut through either two of the chains running from the waistchain to the centrepiece, or the chain encircling my waist. The waist chain is out, since by its tug around my middle it throws up I am ashamed to say a little heap of surplus flesh which stands almost level with the chain itself.

Thus if I try cutting the chain, I also get cut. Not on. The chains from the waist to centrepiece came next. How could I get at them. Much thought, a little experiment with protective pieces of cardbord between chains and me discarded as of not much help in case of misplaced energy and a slipping file followed by a piece of wood I managed to obtain - again rejected as too inflexible, too tight under the chain, and basic inability to get at the chains themselves without getting me too.

The wood placed under the waist chain somehow? Not much point in trying the right hand side - that is where the lock is; the only possible point was at my left hand side. So I tried it.

I pushed the piece of wood into position, making the waist chain uncomfortably tight, and tried a few experiment passes with the file. In no time at all I had stuck the thing in my leg, and grazed myself both above and below the waist. Not to be outwited that easily, I stood up and tried again but found it was quite impossible to hold the file by one end without digging the other end into myself. The only way I could get some action was by holding the thing in the middle and trying to work it up and down.

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