Becky and I were sitting on opposite sides of our kitchen table. Her attention was focused totally on her laptop, and mine on her face... and her boobs. They were pushing against her skimpy vest top. I could make out the outline of her bra, and I knew it was black as I'd watched her get dressed that morning.

As she buried herself in her work, I couldn't stop looking at her. She was peering down, but a sixth sense told her I was staring.

“For fuck's sake, Henry,” she hissed, without raising her eyes. “We're supposed to be revising. It's only a month before our finals. Pay sodding attention to what you're supposed to be doing, not on me! This happens every day—umpteen times every day! I've had enough.”

“Sorry, Becky,” I lamely replied. “It's just that you're so drop-dead gorgeous. I can't take my eyes off you.”

She exhaled heavily and shook her head, while still looking down. “You can be so fucking pathetic sometimes. You should write trashy romantic novels—you'd be good at that.”

“I'm just saying it as it is,” I replied, with a smile. “Why don't we take a ten-minute break and pop into the bedroom?”

“No!” she obstinately replied, now looking up and shooting daggers at me. “Even though it wouldn't take you ten bloody minutes. Two more like! You're sex mad, Henry. You're at it every day like a rabbit—either with me or on your own.”

“Oh, that's harsh, Becky,” I responded. “Come on, we need a break, and it's nearly twelve hours since we last had nooky.”

“Just get on with your damn revision! I'll test you later, and, if you fail, there'll be no nooky for you tonight.”

Did she mean that? Yes, she possibly did, so I turned my attention to the physics notes that lay in front of me. But concentrating was difficult. Becky was far more captivating than my scribbles on semiconductors. I couldn't stop my eyes wandering in her direction.

“That's it!” she screamed. “I'm going to revise in the lounge. You stay here... or else!”

Or else what? God knows, but Becky had a short fuse. I couldn't afford to push my luck, so I did what she said.

oooOOooo

“You failed!” she announced later that day, having set me ten questions on semiconductors. “No nooky for you tonight—and no self-pleasuring either! I'll know if you do.”

“What? How can I have failed? Surely, I got most of the answers right?”

“Getting most right is not good enough, Henry. I set the pass mark at ten out of ten, and you scored eight.”

“That's not fair! You never said I needed to score full marks.”

“If you can't get full marks on the day you've supposedly been reading your damn notes, what chance do you stand in the exam in a month's time?”

Becky had a point, I suppose. I did have to work harder and smarter if I was to get a good grade in the finals.

She adopted a softer tone, a sweeter tone, but still a serious one. “Sometimes, I need to be cruel to be kind, Henry. I want you to do well in your exams, but you're your own worst enemy. You must cut back on the sex—and thinking about sex—at least until the exams are over.”

She paused to let that sink in. “Yeah, you're right, I suppose,” I mumbled. Then I glanced up at her and said, “But it's not my fault if my girlfriend is the most beautiful woman on the campus.”

I smiled, expecting her to return it, but she didn't. “We're going to use a carrot and stick approach, Henry,” she explained. “The prospect of nooky is the carrot...”

“And... and the stick?” I enquired.

Now she began smiling, declaring, “You'll find out in a day or so, sweetie.” She blew me a kiss.

oooOOooo

The next day came, and with it a delivery. It was a small box which she ripped open to reveal a shiny device.

I knew what it was! It was a chastity cage—a locking contraption that would fit over my penis, denying me sex, masturbation and erections.

“No!” I protested. “Where did you get this loony idea from?”

“I told you yesterday you need to cut back on sex and focus on your exams! This will discourage you from staring at me and thinking about sex. And it will stop you jerking off.”

“Yes, but this is a bit extreme, isn't it? Don't you trust me?”

“No!” was her blunt reply, delivered with a contemptuous snort. “I know when you've been masturbating in the bathroom. The stench of semen is unmistakable.”

“Oh! Er... sorry! But you didn't explain to me that I needed to get all the answers right.”

“I shouldn't need to have explained, should I? We should both be focusing on getting top grades, but you seem to be content with scraping a borderline degree with minimal effort.”

“No... well... yes... no!” I babbled, inwardly accepting that my case was weak. She was right. We did need to work hard, and we must try to get the highest grades we could. Our futures could depend on it.

“So, we lock you up for a week, Henry. It's Tuesday today, so that means you're locked up until next Tuesday. I expect you to revise hard, and I will test you daily. As an incentive, if you get all the right answers, then we knock a day off your time, but if you score eight or less, we add a day. And getting nine right means nothing is added nor subtracted.”

“Er, but—”

“Surely, you can see this will encourage you? Yes?” she interrupted, staring at me with pleading eyes, begging me to agree.

“Yes, but—”

“I'm trying to help you, sweetie,” she continued, giving me an adorable smile while unnecessarily laying a hand on my thigh, close to my groin. “I'll let you off yesterday's failure, but the scores count from this evening onwards. If you score top marks every day, you could be out by Friday.”

“But—”

“What have you got to lose?” Well, sex most days with you and masturbation the remaining days, I thought, but I kept that to myself. “Okay, Becky, we'll give it a go.”

oooOOooo

Thirty minutes later, with the help of a bag of frozen peas, I was locked into the device.

When I'd first seen it, I'd assumed it was a cheap toy, possibly flimsy plastic that had been coated to look like metal. Perhaps a contraption that was weak enough to burst apart when challenged with a rock-solid erection? But I was mistaken. This was the real McCoy. It was a snug fit—Becky had tried out various spacers and spare rings to make sure of that—and it was securely locked in place, and it was solid and heavy. There was no forgetting what I was wearing, and that was before the frostiness wore off and tumescence took over.

“Shit, Becky,” I exclaimed, looking down at what was a masterpiece of engineering, “How much did this cost you?”

“It wasn't cheap. I used the money from that inheritance I got.”

“What? Your maiden aunt? The one who probably died a virgin?”

“Yeah, that's the one! I wonder what she'd make of it?” Becky grinned.

“Turning in her grave, I suppose— Hang on, Becky! The cold's wearing off. I'm... I'm not sure I can do this.”

“You won't know unless you try, Henry! No pain, no gain. Eh?”

I watched as she dropped two keys into a padded envelope—a stamped, self-addressed envelope. “What the hell are you doing?” I anxiously asked.

“I'm posting the keys to myself. They'll come back in a couple of days.”

“But why?”

“To stop you buttering me up so we give in to temptation, Henry. I know how you can sweet-talk me.”

“What about if they get lost in the post?”

“They... they won't, you silly boy!” she replied, but not with the level of conviction I was seeking. “I'll run to the postbox while you continue revising. Your next test is this evening. Get full marks tonight and the following nights, you'll be unlocked for nooky on Friday.”

“And... and if I don't?”

“Think positively, sweetie!”

oooOOooo

Over the next couple of hours, I put everything I had into revising my notes on the paradoxes of Einstein's theory of special relativity. If nothing else, intensive studying helped to take my mind off my imprisoned dick, which had soon returned to blood heat and was frantically protesting about being restrained. It helped, I found, to work in a different room from Becky and definitely not to look her in the face... or the boobs.

But her scheme seemed to work, and that first evening I passed her test with flying colours, scoring ten out of ten. “Good boy,” she told me. “That's a day off your sentence.”

oooOOooo

That first night locked up was pure torture. It didn't help that we lived in a single-bedroom flat, which, of course, had only one bed. Moreover, Becky, as always, chose to sleep in the nude, with her warm body pressed against mine in a spoon position.

Instinctively, I wrapped an arm around her, cradling one of her firm tits. Inevitably, my penis struggled to become erect but couldn't overcome the steel impediment that was preventing this natural act. I tried retracting my arm, but Becky was having none of that. “No, sweetie, I love feeling your embrace. Your dick will soon give up, I'm certain of it.”

How wrong could she be? My penis had no intention of giving up its fight, and it seemed to be hours before I drifted off in a troubled sleep, only to be woken in the early hours by a throbbing attempt at a nocturnal stiffie.

oooOOooo

“I don't know if I can cope,” I explained to Becky over breakfast on Wednesday.

“I'm not sure I can either,” she replied, much to my surprise. “I missed being fucked by you last night, sweetie. I didn't think I would, but I did—even though it would all have been over in two minutes.”

“Sorry—you have that effect on me because you're so goddamn sexy.”

“Yeah, right!” she retorted sarcastically. “So, it's my fault?”

“No, I didn't mean that... But what can we do?”

“Nothing! We can't do anything until the keys come back.” She peered at me with a sad expression, but then a sly smile appeared on her face. “Well... actually, there is something we—I mean, you—can do.”

“Eh?”

“Your lips and tongue, sweetie! There's no reason we both need to be deprived, is there?”

“That's unfair, Becky!”

“Seems fair to me, sweetheart. That way, I should get to climax. Think of oral sex as foreplay—you might need to look that word up!”

“Christ, I know what it means, Becky!”

“Really?”

oooOOooo

The day was spent studying, with me going over some of the equations of special relativity.

Becky's test that evening was a tough one. She used questions in the back of a textbook on relativity to set me some calculations, allowing me an hour to come up with solutions. This time, there were only five questions, but each carried two marks.

“Oh, dear,” she remarked after marking my answers, “You've got one wrong. So, you've only scored eight! I'm afraid that's an extra day locked up. You're back to next Tuesday. Sorry, sweetheart!”

I stared at her in disbelief. At first glance, her face conveyed sympathy and empathy, but I noticed a glint in her eyes that told me she was enjoying this.

“No!” I protested. “Let me see!”

I snatched my paperwork from her, along with the textbook. “My answer is the same as in the back of the book,” I argued. “1,200! See?!”

“Nah!” she replied, shaking her head. “You didn't write down the units. The answer was 1,200 kilometres.”

“But... but you knew what I meant, Becky, I—”

“Did I know? You might have meant 1,200 inches... or 1,200 barleycorns... or 1,200 cubits... or goodness knows what. Just accept you were wrong and learn not to make that mistake again.”

“God, you're strict!” I mumbled. “Surely, I get one mark for writing 1,200, meaning I scored nine.”

“No way! And I'm not that strict. If I were really strict, I'd be spanking your bottom to teach you a proper lesson,” she responded, without hesitation. “I might still do that, Henry!”

I felt myself redden because being spanked by Becky was a long-held desire, but I wasn't going to admit it—not that day.

“This... er... game with the chastity cage wasn't spur of the moment, was it?” I asked.

“Sorry? What do you mean?”

“I mean you've been planning something like this for a while. Come on, Becky, tell me the truth.”

She started to reply, probably to issue a firm denial, but clammed up. After a pause to organise her thoughts, she took a deep breath and declared, “Yeah! You're right. I thought it would be fun for you to be locked up on occasions.”

“What! Why?”

“It spices things up! Willow says so.” Willow was a girl on our course and a good friend of Becky's. She was exceptionally pretty but not someone I got on with because she'd taken a dislike to me. I could readily see her coaching Becky on the benefits of male chastity and convincing her to give it a go.

“Willow? What does she know?” I asked.

“She knows because she's done the experiment over the past month, and it worked! Ask her boyfriend, Freddie!”

“Not bloody likely,” I countered. “Guys don't discuss those sorts of things with each other.”

“So, you won't find out about his knickers, either.”

“What?!”

“Willow has him wearing panties. It's really calmed him down. He's not so loud-mouthed as he was, and he's focusing on his studies.”

“No way!”

“And Willow says their sex life has improved.”

“How can that have happened, if he's locked up? She's talking shite.”

“Freddie now pleases her in a way that doesn't need him to stick his willy inside her. As I said this morning, I think you could use your lips and tongue more. It might give me a chance to cum. Hmm?”

“Er?”

“Willow says if men are denied sex, then they're going to be more willing to please their partners. Yes? And when they do get nooky, they enjoy it far more. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, Willow says.”

I cursed Willow under my breath!

Shortly afterwards, we retired to bed and, as she had wanted, I attended to Becky's needs, inserting my head between her thighs and eating her out. She tasted and smelt goddam wonderful, and she was soon squirming and moaning as my lips and tongue got to work.

My penis wished to join in the fun, but the cage put a stop to that. I was in a lot of discomfort—pain is a better word—but I was determined to satisfy her. After all, she was the one who now controlled my release—once the blasted keys returned.

Her vocalisations grew as she became more aroused. I was aware that her clit had swelled. It had become erect and firmer, and just the merest touch with my tongue sent her into a spasm of excitement.

Soon she was clutching my hair, grinding my face into her pussy. Then she started bucking, and I realised she was climaxing, a rare occurrence. It was so powerful, and it brought home to me that she'd been right to criticise my previous selfish lovemaking skills—or lack of.

We'd now lived together for several months, but I began to wonder what she saw in me. Obviously, it hadn't been my abilities under the sheets. I needed to up my game.

oooOOooo

Thursday saw me making a more determined effort to revise hard, and I scored full marks in the test that evening. Likewise on Friday, so I was on course for early release.

But a concern was growing inside me. The keys to the chastity device, which Becky had sealed into an envelope and posted to herself, had not yet come back. I asked her about them several times, but she was dismissive, telling me she was certain they would arrive before I was due to be unlocked.

However, Saturday came, and there was no post. I passed the test that evening with flying colours, meaning I should have been released that very evening. But there were no keys...

“I don't know what could have happened,” she explained. “I expected them to arrive by now. Sorry, sweetheart. You know I didn't plan this, don't you?”

Not even Becky could interfere with the running of the national postal service. “No, I know you didn't, but it was always risky putting the keys in the mail.”

“I wasn't to know. Willow said Freddie's keys came back after a couple of days.”

“Willow?! What?!! So, that's where you got the idea from. That girl's a maniac! Stop listening to her!”

“She's my friend, Henry. You need to be nice to her.”

“I—oh, never mind!” I replied, out of exasperation. “But I'm getting desperate, Becky,” I argued. “I'm crawling up the wall with frustration. I need to cum, otherwise, I might explode.”

That brought a smile to her face. “That would be very messy, but it's not going to happen, is it? I'll tell you what, I'll talk to Willow, and I'll see that she suggests.”

“Willow?! What can she do?”

oooOOooo

Sure enough, Becky phoned Willow, choosing to do so when I was out of earshot. We caught up a little later. “So,” I began, unable to disguise my sarcastic tone, “what insightful pearls of wisdom did Willow pass on?”

“Er... well... hmm... she had two suggestions, sweetie.”

She paused, unable to look me in the eyes.

“And?” I urged. “What were these earth-shaking suggestions?”

“Well... the first one was we wait a little longer because—”

“Oh, my God, why didn't we think of that?” I interrupted, rolling my eyes. “Willow's a bloody genius to come up with that thought! Did she say how long we should wait?”

“Er... a couple of days or so.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “And her second seismic suggestion?”

“She said... she said, if the pressure is too much, then... er... milking might be needed. She explained what—”

“I know what a milking is! Christ almighty!”

“Sorry, sweetheart. So, what do you want to do?”

I took a very deep breath and held it for several seconds before expiring loudly. “We'll have to wait a couple more days,” I proclaimed, this being the least bad of the two alternatives.

“Good! You should keep intensively revising because it'll take your mind off other things. And I did say you needed to cut back on sex, didn't I? When the keys arrive, you'll see the funny side of this, I promise.”

I stared at her, and she was biting her lower lip, struggling not to giggle. “Come on, Henry, give me a cuddle,” she said.

oooOOooo

My intense revision, with testing, continued, as did daily cunnilingus. On Sunday evening, I scored full marks, meaning I was even more overdue for unlocking. There are no mail deliveries on Sundays, and nothing arrived on the Monday. The situation was becoming more desperate—I was becoming desperate.

“Becky...” I said quietly. She looked up from her laptop. “Becky... I'm going to have to be milked. I can't go on like this.”

“Good decision!” she nonchalantly replied. “I'll pop to see Willow later because she's got the equipment we need.”

I gulped.