Keeping Catherine Chaste

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Dressed For Control

An hour later I sat on my bed waiting for Mother, clad only in a tightly wrapped towel. She entered my room carrying a large cardboard carton and without saying anything placed it on the bed to one side, then sat beside me on the other.

“Catherine?” she said quietly, and I turned to look into her slightly nervous gaze, “I know you have been tremendously worried about the feelings and sensations you’ve recently been experiencing. Your father and I are also concerned and want to ensure that you remain as pure as possible for your eventual marriage.”

“Yes, Mother,” I whispered back to her, dropping my eyes and blushing when she raised the topic of any type of s****l activity, even so obliquely.

“And so, dear, we’ve ordered some special ... ah ... underclothing to both help you stay out of temptation’s path and ensure that you do stay pure.”

“Oh, O-OK,” I acknowledged in another whisper, wondering where this was all leading.

“Catherine, you will need to wear this ... ah ... special clothing at all times, 24 hours a day, for it to be fully effective and although you may not like it and get tired of it, dear, your father and I have decided you must do so until you are ready to be married. It is, truly, for your own protection, and so I hope you’ll be able to accept our decision.”

“Y-yes, Mother,” I stammered, not really sure if I liked what she’d just come out with, but willing to go along with almost anything to allay my overwhelming episodes of guilt. “Is it going to be uncomfortable, or noticeable?”

“I don’t think you’ll find it to be too bad, dear, and it will be fully hidden by your outer clothing. The accompanying literature says it can be worn easily and no one will know that you do, except for the cap part.”

“V-very well,” I agreed, “but why is there a cap?”

“Well, dear, it’s quite a ... how shall I say it? The whole ensemble is really quite elaborate, and because we bought the complete set of appliances, the ‘cap’ is included and must be worn as a necessary part.”

“Oh!” I said in a small voice, trembling nervously.

She stood, then opened the large white cardboard box and the first thing she did was to take a thin brochure from inside, then move to stand in front of me.

“Catherine, I know you’re very modest, but you’ll have to be completely naked for me to be able to dress you in your new underclothing. We’re both women, dear, and I’ve seen you naked since you were a baby, so try not to be too concerned, OK?” She smiled nervously at me.

I smiled tremulously back at her and stood, then slowly and with a suffusing blush, dropped the towel onto the bed behind me. Mother was the soul of discretion and turned away to lift the first piece from its formed Styrofoam nest. What emerged was a steel belt some eight cm wide. The inside and edges were lined with a shiny black rubber, making it look terribly clinical and institutional and I shuddered with foreboding, suddenly feeling weak in the knees.

“According to the Manual, dear, this part has to be quite tight, so you’ll have to suck in your tummy.”

I did as she asked, holding my hands out from my sides while she slipped the wide band around my waist, gasping when its cold lining compressed my belly. There was a small metallic click over each of my hips, then Mother stood back and looked at me. Upon letting out my breath, I discovered just how tight the strap was, and looked wordlessly and questioningly at her.

“I suppose that’s the correct fit,” she said dubiously, “even though I added a little to your tummy measurement just to make sure. Now, let me have a look and see what’s next...”

She read for a moment then reached into the box again and pulled out a shiny, U-shaped steel piece with oval-shaped openings set into it at the curve and I knew instinctively where this piece was going to be fitted. It was shaped like the head of an aroused, Hooded Cobra; narrow at the top, then widening fully into the ‘hood’, and shrinking back to another narrowness. Past this second narrowing was another smaller ‘hood’ portion before it narrowed again. The widest one had a long oval-shaped hole, as did the smaller, and at points around these apertures, on the outer side, there were some sort of mechanical fittings.

“This goes between your legs, dear.” she said with quiet determination. “Please move them apart so can I fit it to you.”

Wordlessly, I followed her request, and a moment later felt the ends of the U-formed piece slide slowly up over my quaking stomach and up between my buttocks. At the front, it pressed firmly into my lower belly, while behind, it snuggled between the cheeks of my bottom and a strange excitement churned my mind while the sensations grew in intensity. Embarrassingly, I felt myself getting wet in that unmentionable spot, but Mother seemed not to notice my sudden trembling and wetness and instead concentrated on pushing the ends of the piece up into the slots for them in the bottom edge of the thick waist band. Two more subtle clicks sounded and I couldn’t stop the gasp I made from the sudden feeling of intimate constriction through my crotch. I moved my legs slowly together, feeling other intense sensations when the joins of my thighs slowly pressed onto the rubber edges of the steel strap. The fleshy nubbin I had surreptitiously fingered for the last six months was now, also, a captive under the crotch strap, a deep little cup isolating it from the surrounding flesh, and of course, from any investigating fingers.

“M-mother?” I whimpered. “Th-this feels very strange!”

“You’ll soon get used to it, dear,” she soothed. “Now, it’s time for the upper portion. Hold out your arms, and lean forward please, Catherine.”

Again, I did as she requested. She pulled another gleaming contraption from the box. It looked like a bra, and truthfully that’s what it turned out to be, but made of a lightweight steel, and, like the belt and steel thong I now wore, this too was lined and edged with a shiny black rubber! I was already well developed for my age and had worn a bra from age twelve onwards, so when I leant forward, my pendulous breasts fell into their large, cool cups. Mother held these in place against my chest while wordlessly nudging me to stand upright.

“Please hold still while I do it up, dear.”

I kept my arms outstretched to the sides and immediately felt the wide chest band clamp around my ribs. The back portion was made like an exercise bra; widening out into a small, rounded oblong, to which the lower ends of the overly wide chest band was joined. I heard what sounded like a couple of zipping ratchet noises and suddenly the thing clamped very firmly into the thin skin over my ribs, then when I tried to inhale, I immediately discovered that the chest band prevented any sort of deep breath! She moved around behind me, flipped the shiny straps from the tops of the fully-covering cups up and over my shoulders, then fed them into their mounts on the back piece. Another set of zipping sounds came and I felt the narrow, rubber-edged and lined straps pulled firmly into the hollows between my shoulder joints and collar bones and it wasn’t comfortable at all! I tried to shrug them into a more easily borne alignment, but managed only to move them fractionally before she tightened them again!

She came to stand before me, inspecting her work so far, and at the same time I raised my hands to my chest, staring down in wonderment at the shiny, rigid steel cups that now contained and actually, imprisoned my breasts. Mother watched while I inspected how my breasts had been removed from my touch, then I dropped my hands to my waist and fingered the belt compressing it and the strap that descended to my s*x, deeply indented into the soft flesh of my lower belly. It was then that I discovered that the frontal aperture over my s*x was still open and a deep blush of embarrassment covered my face.

“There, there, dear,” she said quietly, “That will be well and securely covered very soon!”

“M-M-Mother? This feels very strange, and it’s not comfortable at all!” I moaned, twisting and shivering like a new born colt, feeling the compression around my waist and through my crotch, and at the same time fully aware of the belt riding up over the curves of my pelvis, above my hips.

“Yes, I suppose,” she murmured quietly, “but it’s part of the price you must pay to remain chaste and pure,” she said with concern but steadfast resolve. “Now, I have to put on your cap and collar; so I want you to hold still, OK?”

“Y-Yes, Mother,” I said resignedly, for some reason nearly in tears.

She pulled what appeared to be a wide, gleaming choker from the box and a moment later I felt it slipped around my neck. There was another of the zipping clicks when it tightened, and I stared at her with concern when I heard something at the front, under my chin, and at the back, make a metallic clinking. She ignored my worried, questioning look and returned to the box, then brought out a network of narrow, flexible metal straps. These she lifted and draped over my head. They slipped down until the web pressed loosely against my hair, then she spent the next minutes pulling my long brown locks out from under the various straps, allowing them to settle snugly against my skull, almost concealed. When this was finished, she began to insert the bottom ends of the metal web’s straps into slots on the upper edges of my thick choker and once she’d finished, I found to my horror that I could barely move my head! None of the straps came fully over my face, thank God, but the remainder held my skull snugly and firmly. The ‘cap’ had a wide band at the front, just above my eyebrows, that completely encircled my head; descending on either side of my face, thus framing it in metal. At the crown, a wide cross strap went back over the top, then came down to just above each ear, where it split into a narrow oval, then from the bottom another short strap descended to also connect to my choker. At the back, the last one was also integrated and the whole thing frightened me with its limiting effect. I began to gasp and shudder quietly with the feeling of growing entrapment, knowing without doubt that I’d be terribly embarrassed to have to wear this thing all the time and knew without doubt that I’d get teased unmercifully at school. I knew it! It was going to be far worse than when I’d had to wear braces on my teeth just last year.

“There, there, dear,” she said consolingly. “I have a few more pieces to add, then you’ll not need to worry ever again,” she said quietly, trying to soothe me. “Hold still while I insert your ear plug/hearing controls, please?”

Suddenly, before I could move away, she gently pushed things that felt like narrow, long rods into each of my ear canals! For a moment all sound disappeared, then suddenly her voice came clearly to me.

“Now,” she murmured to herself, “they’re held in with these cups and straps, I think.”

Both plugs were suddenly forced deeper, making me whine with the strange sensation and try to twist away from her, but it was too late. I felt another set of metallic snaps! She came to stand in front of me once more, her hands beside my head, then she gently pressed the shallow domes that now covered them down onto the ovals surrounding my ears and rendering me even more deaf! Once more she brushed my long hair around until the cups were nearly concealed.

“Now, Catherine, I have to add the interconnection straps between your bra and the belt and as well, between your choker and bra, so I want you to stand still while I do it.”

I nodded wordlessly at her, tears of mushrooming misery now flooding down my cheeks. She picked up two, wide, short bands in a V and inserted the point into the upper edge of the waistband at the front and centre, then told me to lean backwards. When I did, she pushed the top ends of the V’s arms into mating slots in the tight, wide chest strap, one under each breast, and when I straightened, I felt them press into my body between the belt and the bra’s chest band.

“Now, I have to do the ones at the back, dear, so bend forward now please.”

A moment later, another two of the strange straps were fitted on either side of my spine. I straightened and felt both sets both compress and lengthen reluctantly when I moved, adding even more to my feeling of being trapped and harnessed. My torso wasn’t fully immobilized, but I felt very, very restricted and controlled, as was the intent of the whole ensemble. Not only was it employed to keep me totally chaste, but it was also very much designed to ensure that I was easily and fully controllable at all times.

“Bend your head forward now please, Catherine.”

When I did, another of the straps went into a slot on the bottom and at the back of my ‘choker’, then into a mating one at the top of the back piece of the bra! She came around to my front and repeated the action with another of the special joiners; it rising from the wide, dividing busk between my bra cups, and fastening into the ‘choker’ at the base of my throat! I began to pant and shiver with nervous reaction, feeling more and more a prisoner by what I was being made to wear.

“M-M-Mother?” I whined, “I feel awful wearing this stuff! Please? Can you take it off and return it?”

“Catherine! We most certainly cannot!” she said, anger in her voice. “We’ve spent a great deal of money on this equipment for you! You must be protected and pure and this is the best way to do it! Father Timothy told me that a lot of girls of your age wear this System. They’re all fully-protected now and he said that they’re a lot happier after a few months, once they get used to it.