Cut to the chaste

- You place the sealed envelope on the open lid of the blue postal box. You give it one last look, sigh, then let it slide into the belly of the container, certain it will take at least 3 days before i receive the keys in my mail.

- You pull the belt up your legs, situating it at your hips. The coldness of the steel pussy plate and chain that runs along the crevice of your ass causes you to suck in your breath. You adjust the latch in front, making sure the waistband is pulled snug, but not too tight for longterm wear. From the box, you pick up the 2" brass padlocks, sliding one in the latch on the front, and one in the rear. Clasping onto each lock with your hands, you click them closed. You go back to your bed, take out the manila envelope i provided and write my address on the front. You gather the keys, and drop them in, sealing it closed with clear packing tape.

- You carefully, meticulously lubricate your front passage. Sliding several lube-covered fingers in your radiating cunt, you ensure that this canal is adequately prepared. Checking one last time, you examine the small metallic dildo found, carefully wrapped, in the bottom of the package, ensuring the extended-release batteries are situated correctly. You turn the device on, feeling it buzz with animation in your hands. It goes silent, which for a moment causes you to panic, but then you remember its programmed sequence. It won't awake again for another 15 minutes, turning on for 3 minutes, and then hibernating, repeating this cycle until the power in the batteries expires. You slowly, deliberately slowly, slide it past your slick cunt lips, pushing it entirely inside your wet gash. You next grab the leather and metal chastity belt, admiring the weight of the device, anticipating the heavy presence it will render upon your body.

- You walk into the vestibule of your apartment, spying the medium-sized box placed at the foot of your door. You lean down to view the sender's information and immediately gasp when you recognize who it is from. Picking up the box produces a clattering of metal from inside. You fiddle with your keys, opening your door, and immediately walk to your bedroom, leaving the unopened box on your bed. You go to your nightstand and pull out a tube of lubricant and lay it next to the parcel. You try to fill the time that you can feel is rapidly shrinking between now and when you open the package. You take off your heels, remove your skirt, slide off your stockings. You thumb through the stack of regular mail. Bills. Bills. Solicitations. Bills. Distractions. Your mind does not think of these daily interruptions. Rather, it hones in on the ever growing in-your-mind collection of shipped materials waiting for you in your boudoir. Resigned, you take the letter opener from the drawer and take what seems to be a longer than usual walk to the back of your apartment. You quickly dismantle the taped seams, and carefully open the cardboard contraption. My handwritten letter greets your eyes:

"My dear,
We both knew this day would come. You'd expressed a desire for more. More control, more domination. Yet, you exhibited very little ability to accept what amount i could provide due to our distance. Despite the lack of commitment needed to maintain a healthy, strong and meaningful power exchange, i believe the items in this box will act as a catalyst to a much greater fellowship.

You have many choices. You have exhibited a willingness to keep that quantity as large as possible. I've reduced it down to two. Either, submit or not.

The material found within will facilitate your passage into the liberating servitude you've soberly spoken to me about. Choose quickly and resolutely.

I'll await the envelope with the keys inside, signaling your selection."