Mavis and the Featherlight Ch. 4

As the angel smiled at her, the elf giggled, realising how many locks had now been devoted to securing her sex away. She trembled as Rose released her, running her fingers up and down the curving top of the combined waistband, feeling the layers move together as she realised just how thick it was. Gently, she tugged and tugged at it, trying to get it to budge, and finding that it would move very little. The four padlocks at her sides clicked gently as her attention moved to tugging at them, rattling and pulling. “R-Rose,” She stammered. “It’s… It’s really pretty. B-But…!”

Rose smiled. “It’s heavenly steel, and heavenly bronze in the top layers. Extremely expensive. Oh, Mavis, you look so beautiful.”

Mavis reddened even more. “I m-might, but, Rose… How am I going to hide these under clothes?” She tugged at the padlocks again, her hands shaking with nervous exertion now as she tested their security; soon moving to the waistband, and finding that she could neither manage to push it down, nor tilt it.

“I’ve got some clothes picked out for you that should work just fine,” Rose purred. “You’ve seen how well my dresses hide my own belt. Look.” She said, pointing down at her body. “They’re bulky things. But would you ever think I was wearing anything under here?”

The elf looked up at her, her lip wobbling.

Rose sighed. “Do you already need me to take it all off?” She pouted. “It takes a while, you know. A fair bit longer than it took to put on. That said… I don’t want to make you accept anything that-”

“It’s fine right now. B-But…” Mavis stammered. “Rose, who the hell is this meant to keep out…?”

The angel moved close to her, then, poking her gently in the chest. “You,” She beamed. “And only you. Other people, too, would be nice, but including them in the threat model… I hope you won’t get too smug when I tell you it wouldn’t have changed the design.”

Mavis and the Featherlight Ch. 2

The key was gone.

Immediately, her eyes opened, the elf staring at her empty hand… And then slowly looking down, again, at the firmly locked chastity belt. They moved to her sides, pushing and tugging at the waistband gently – confirming that the belt was properly locked in place, and would not come off. She gasped, almost laughing as the reality of what she’d just done set in. She’d locked herself in chastity! In a heavy, indestructible looking chastity belt that she didn’t understand the mechanisms for, and didn’t have the key for! And if she couldn’t pick it open… Only her beloved Rose could let her out. Of course, she suddenly realised, the haze in her lustful mind slightly clearing – the angel would know what she’d done, even if she got out. She’d find those keys in her safe. Mavis wouldn’t be getting them out. That meant she was already in trouble.

“So why not have a bit of fun?” She supposed, smiling down at the belt, and noticing the gears turning again. Was it wound by her movement? She tilted her body around, watching them turn faster, the belt ticking quicker and louder as she tilted it this way and that. More and more of them were starting to pick up, as if the belt were building up some kind of charge. There was nothing she could do about whatever it was going to do with that charge, but… That was fine. It likely wasn’t anything interesting. And even if it was going to vibrate a little every now and then, surely using almost all of its charge in a few seconds, or, or something… She couldn’t imagine it would be able to do much with the tiny amounts of kinetic power that could be generated by her movements. She wondered for a moment if she should have turned it to the final setting, paralysing the mechanism, but quickly resolved that allowing it to run would make the escape she was going to perform, no matter what, more authentic. More viable for any real person trapped in the chastity belt. Even if it was going to, to mess with her, which didn’t seem likely – for she watched it for several minutes as she sat in the stool, and it didn’t really do anything more except tick and spin its gears – it would only add credence to her coming achievement. Right now, with nothing happening, she wasn’t scared of this tiny clockwork machine at all. Just what was it going to do? Tick and click her to death?

She would soon change her mind, of course.

Mental Emasculation: Captain Morgan’s Spiced Revenge Part 13

Concerning the Manticore on the other side of the door.  


At this point in my life, I had never heard of Erwin Schrodinger; nor his philosophical hypothesis regarding cats locked in boxes, so it would have come as a surprise to find I was away to replicate the experiment with a potentially pissed off Manticore.  

Mental Emasculation: Captain Morgan’s Spiced Revenge Part 12

It would have been a picture-perfect moment, had I not seethed with angry arousal, nor lacked a suitably hygienic ‘pocket’ with which to stash my phone. Chasity had fallen asleep with her face smooshed against the saliva smeared window. Tendrils of spit fanned outwards like a cinematic splash of water, displaced by the rumbling rasp of her syrupy snores. The sound conjuring the illusion of a steam train choking on the last dregs of water as it painfully limped along the tracks. 

Mental Emasculation: Captain Morgan’s Spiced Revenge Part 11

According to the tourist guide of this proud yet sinful city, Bugsy Brown’s was one of the less reputable gentlemen’s clubs hidden within the sprawling shambles of the old city centre.  

In keeping with the aesthetic appeal of ‘Den of depravity and sin’, Bugsy’s offered a more traditional experience for the less discerning customer, replete with quintessential features such as; thick velvet drapes, nicotine smoked windows, sultry lighting and an atmosphere thick with mood too make even the most angst-ridden Will-o-the-wisp choke under the oppressive ambience of the club. 

Mental Emasculation: Captain Morgan’s Spiced Revenge Part 9

A light misting of joyful drizzle swept the rain-slick streets in waves, gradually washing away indiscriminate puddles of overindulgence as it gurgled through the gutters like perverse laughter. Caught in a sigh of wind, rain danced and billowed through the neon haze of pink and blue, forcing Chasity to avert her gaze from the gaudy spectacle.  

Mental Emasculation: Captain Morgan’s Spiced Revenge Part 8

“Chas-i-ty, Chas-i-ty, Chas-i-ty, Chas-i-ty!” 

Chasity concentrated as much as her inebriation would allow, which was roughly that of a hyperactive Were-rabbit bouncing off the walls after mistaking a horseradish for her carrot-shaped dildo. Never questioning why she kept her sex toys in the basket beside less forgiving root vegetables. Chasity could feel the soul of the lounge pounding in sync with her heartbeat, accompanied by the rhythm of heavy footsteps on the slick yet sticky floor. Laughter thrummed through the melodic clink and tinkle of glasses and optics, its sour breath the very essence of desperation. Dank air dripped with personality, a miasma of testosterone, alcohol-laden sweat, stale nicotine and cheap aftershave in eye-watering abundance, bringing with it an unwelcome wave of nausea. Happily oblivious to the fact she was part of the cloying stench.  

Mental Emasculation: Captain Morgan’s Spiced Revenge Part 7

“Come on, swallow it ye useless bitch!” 

Pleading, tear-filled eyes gazed up at Chasity, cowering within the darkness of her imposing presence as oppressive red light cast a sinister shadow upon Chasity’s sickening grin. Closing his eyes, humiliation ran down Fat Neck’s face, cheeks puffy and damp from the abuse suffered at the paws of the vindictive Manticore. Face pulling into a grimace, he forced himself to swallow, almost gagging as the sickening liquid slid across his tongue and burned down his gullet. 

Mental Emasculation: Captain Morgan’s Spiced Revenge Part 6

Bickering, name-calling, malignant breast fondling and the aggressive brandishing of a dainty handbag heralded the tumultuous and rather public departure of a struggling Francesca from the dance floor. Dragged away from the riotous hen party by her beloved sparkly angel wings, miraculously surviving the Kobold’s antics throughout the evening. Now the flamboyant accessories were a twisted mess of silver and pink tinsel with the pretentious air of abstract art. 

Mental Emasculation: Captain Morgan’s Spiced Revenge Part 5

Blue haze rolled out from the crowded smoking shelter in its pursuit to pollute the brisk night air. Granted, there were only two people in what appeared to be an old, repurposed bus shelter still scarred with badly spelt graffiti, but Danielle and Chasity could take up a fair bit of room if they set their mind to it. Both suffered the unenviable ability to inadvertently repel people, like sharks swimming through a school of fish. Handy when walking down the street, but a pain in the arse when you wished to socialise.