Journey Into Chastity, Book One The Journey Begins

Chapter One: We Need to Talk-1

Chapter One: We Need to Talk

I arrived at Laura’s house just after five pm. Laura and Christine usually left school at about four thirty and it was only a fifteen minute walk back home for them. I rang the doorbell and after a few seconds Christine opened the door. She was wearing plain black trousers and a demur salmon pink cardigan, with a white T-shirt underneath it. It was five o’clock on a Friday afternoon, after a hard day at school, and yet she was perfectly made up. She looked lovely actually.

“Wow Christine, you look fantastic,” I blurted out without thinking. “I know it’s probably rude of me to ask, but how much weight have you lost?”

Christine smiled proudly, and stepped back for me to enter. “Well I think it’s a nice compliment, thank you John,” she said. “Actually I’ve lost about thirty pounds so far – that’s since October though, when I went on the ‘Laura diet’. She’s just upstairs fixing her face, by the way. She said she’ll be down in a minute. Would you like a cuppa? The kettle’s just boiled. Happy New Year by the way!” She leaned forward and gave me a peck on the cheek.

“Gosh, sorry, yes Happy New Year to you too. Tea would be lovely Christine, thanks so much,” I replied. Christine seemed more cheerful than of late. I hoped she’d got over the two horrible experiences of a few weeks ago. She was certainly looking so much better and more confident.

I shuffled into the lounge with my bag and flopped down on the sofa. It had been a decent bus ride over. No delays, and there was a nice old chap I’d been talking to on the bus that had passed the time. Seemed to be a local history buff, and had been telling me all about the villages we went through on the journey. It was pretty interesting.

Christine came through with a mug of tea. “I’m right, it’s milk and one sugar, isn’t it?” she asked uncertainly.

“It is indeed. Lovely,” I saw that the tea was quite orange in colour. ‘Builders’ Tea’ we call it. I love it much better than the weak and wazzy stuff Southerners drink. Christine is from Yorkshire, and it’s clear that she knows how to make a decent cuppa. I took a sip of the hot liquid.

“Ooh. That’s proper tea that is!” I said. “Thanks.”

Christine gave me another smile and told me she’d leave me in peace. Two minutes later Laura came through the door. There was a waft of perfume ahead of her, and she breezed over and dragged me out of the sofa. She threw her arms around me and gave me the biggest hug, and I hugged back. I thought I was going to suffocate.

“Ooooh!” came a muffled noise from my shoulder. “Oh John, I’ve missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, darling!” I told her.

She lifted away and we kissed. That went on for a while and it was very nice, very nice indeed.

She was wearing a long grey woolen cardigan with a white blouse underneath, black skirt, matching opaque tights and black high-heeled boots. It was probably what she’d been wearing at school I thought – one of her “sexy teacher” outfits. She also had her “professional” makeup on, with a red-brown lipstick that I found extremely sexy.

Laura pushed me back down onto the sofa. I expected her to sit down next to me, but instead she perched on the armchair opposite. She sat upright, and crossed one leg over the other in quite a stern pose I thought. The dress was actually quite short, but the thick opaque tights kept her decent. And the view of her boots was nice.

“OK, I know you just got here, but we need to talk,” she began.

As a man I always wonder what these words are supposed to mean. We talk all the time, of course. But having been in a relationship for over year now, I am gradually picking up on these female phrases. “We need to talk,” actually means “I am going to tell you something that you really don’t want to hear.”

I was right.

“Wh-what about?” I asked, cautiously.

“As you know, a few weeks back Christine had those two terrible things happen to her with her dad, and then that creep of a headmaster. We don’t need to dwell on it, but she’s feeling a lot better now. At the time I was happy to be as supportive as I could, and the two of us became very…close,” she said. It sounded like she’d rehearsed the lines.

She paused to see if I was processing this. “Errr OK,” was all I could think of to say. Up to now Laura hadn’t really said anything unexpected, but what did she mean by “close”?

She took a breath and carried on.

“A couple of weeks ago I started spending most nights in Christine’s bed. It wasn’t the first time – well you know that because you were here then when she was upset. At first I slept with her because she needed the company. She couldn’t get to sleep on her own.”

She paused again and frowned; presumably at my rather vacant expression.

“Anyway,” she continued, squeezing her hands together nervously. “I slept in her bed to keep her company, and I hadn’t seen you for a while and I think I was a bit frustrated. And there was stuff going on at school that I could talk about with Christine,” she paused, and then blurted out. “Well we ended up kissing. And it’s happened again – a lot actually.”

She paused again and looked at me expectantly.

“Well, are you going to say something?” Laura stared at me, obviously waiting for some reaction. I leaned towards her and had to clear my throat before I could speak.

“Well I’m not sure what to say. Why are you telling me this?” I asked.

“Why?” she exclaimed. “Why am I telling you I’ve just started a lesbian affair with my housemate?”

“Hang on a minute!” I said, holding a hand up. “You didn’t say that – you said you’d just kissed a bit.”

Laura stood up. She started to pace in front of me, the sound of her tights swishing with each step she took was incredibly erotic. I wondered if I was having some kind of “man’s dream” – my girlfriend is bisexual and she might let me watch!

“Well it’s a lot more than that,” she said, still wringing her hands nervously. “We sleep together every night now. We make love. Christine makes love to me, and I make love to her.” She stopped pacing and stood looming over me, hands on her hips.

I wanted to stand up, but something made me stay in this position.

“Well, what about us?” I croaked eventually.

“Yes, well that’s what we need to discuss,” she told me. “Christine and I feel that it’s not fair for me to throw you out. It’s not your fault. And I still believe there’s a place for you in the relationship.”

“What? What kind of place?” I thought maybe I should stand up, but there was no strength in my legs at all.

Laura crouched down next to me and put her hand on my knee. She suddenly became a bit more sympathetic.

“Poor baby,” she said softly. “Look, I know it’s a bit difficult to get your head around it. But if you’re prepared to make some adjustments then we can really carry on the same way we did before, can’t we?”

“What do you mean by adjustments?” I asked.

“Well with you being so far away I really do get frustrated, and Christine can be there for me in the week when I need to unwind. And I can be there for her. The s*x is fantastic!” I looked into Laura’s eyes, and saw that she was totally serious. But then she added in a whisper…

“Well, she’s not as good as you with her tongue, if you know what I mean. Nowhere near as good actually.”

Laura leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. She stood up from her crouch and went back to the chair.

“So we need to talk about how this is going to work, and lay down some ground rules for you, OK?” she demanded.

Thoughts were racing through my mind. Laura was my girlfriend – my fiancée for goodness’ sake. OK, maybe I just asked her to marry me because I thought she’d finally let me screw her, but I thought the relationship was going amazingly well until a few weeks ago.

I looked across at her. I realised again how beautiful she was, and wondered again what she saw in me. Maybe a better looking guy would have left her if she tried withholding s*x from him. Maybe I was just desperate enough to stay with her on the faint chance she’d give me more than a hand job. But she was nice to be around too. She was funny, and interesting. She was so much classier than the girls I normally kicked around with. An image of my old girlfriend, Joy, sprang into my head – pretty, yes, but a total slut. Never any problem with s*x but I always felt slightly grubby afterwards. With Laura I always felt that I should try and be a better person for her. I obviously wasn’t doing very well at that.

She was sitting and looking at me, her lovely, hazel brown eyes gazing into mine. I wanted to go to her, but I didn’t want to be looming over her. I slipped off the couch on my knees and shuffled the three feet or so to her chair. I realised how pathetic I looked, but at that point I couldn’t care less. But as I crawled over to her, I saw a faint smile appear on Laura’s face. Her eyes seemed to become more interested.

But as I got close to her, I realised I had a problem. I couldn’t reach her hands; her crossed legs were in the way. One of her slinky black boots was tapping the air just a few inches from my face. For some reason I paused and became fascinated with the soft creak of the leather, and the tiny wrinkles as her ankle flexed.

Laura seemed pleased that I was in that position and she reached out with the boot and stroked the pointed toe along my cheek. I heard the creak of the leather more clearly in my ear and had to swallow to stop my mouth from gumming up. Somehow I knew I shouldn’t touch her.

“Laura…please…I don’t want you to leave me,” I managed to say. “I don’t really know what more to say, but we’ve been together for over a year and we’ve been so happy and I think that has to count for something, doesn’t it? I’ve tried to understand – you know the thing about us not making love.”

Laura had slid the boot back and was now pressing the sharp heel into my cheek. I didn’t want to flinch or move away, that seemed wrong. I tried to carry on with my pleas.

“W…well it wasn’t easy for me and I hope you can admit that I’ve really tried hard. I know you’d like me to be here all the time, but I can’t be. I would if I could but you need to tell me what I can do to make this right!”

I put as much passion as I could into my words. Laura stayed silent for a few seconds, looking past me at the wall. Her boot was now on my shoulder, using me as a footrest.

“Well that’s very encouraging actually,” she said in a matter of fact tone. “I think you’re going to approach this with the right attitude. I think if you can stay focused on those feelings you’ve just expressed you’re going to get through this OK.”

She lowered her leg, and reached out to take my right hand in both of hers.

“Look, there’s something I want to show you because you’ll probably see it sometime this weekend anyway,” she said. She slipped back one shoulder of the long cardigan, and undid the top three buttons of her blouse.

At first I thought this looked promising, but then I stared at her breasts with horror. On each milky breast was a criss-cross pattern of red marks. They didn’t seem to be scratches; it was like somebody had drawn deep red lines on her skin with a felt pen.

“Oh my God, what happened?” I asked incredulously.

“Stay calm,” she said quietly. “Christine did this, and before you over react let me tell you that I asked her to do it. It’s a punishment that I really love.” Laura reached over to the sideboard and took something in her hand. She held it up for me to see. It was a thin plastic stick about a foot long. It looked like the kind of thing you buy in a garden shop to secure young plants.

“She uses this on me. She pulls back, and lets it flick my breasts again and again.” Laura was looking me right in the eye to try to gauge my reaction as she demonstrated the effect on her hand.