Independence Day

Well, I must have been about nineteen when Carl came into my life. A hot young thing, I was, if I do say so myself. Big boobs, blonde hair, creamy skin, baby blue eyes, the works. I teased a million guys, though really I was a piece of cake for anyone who caught my fancy. Believe me, at that time of my life, a lot of guys caught my fancy.

Carl was cool. Thirty-two or so, OK looking, nothing special. He had a way, an air about him, like he could see right through you. I met him at a party and he took me to dinner and right away seemed to understand how to get round me. Although he was complimentary and even a bit flirtatious, he just refused to hit on me in any way. In fact, it was me that finally had to get things going after a few chaste dates. And damn, was I surprised. He teased me, oh yes, got me right to the point of cumming over and over, til I thought I would scream from frustration. Then he made me give him a really slow blowjob before he would fuck me. It was the best sex I ever had, not even close.

He never called, so finally I gave in and called him. We went to dinner. I had to beg him to take me home and have sex. He told me he would, but only if I submitted to a spanking. Sure, I said, but when we got to my place he made me lean over a chair and spanked my ass for over an hour, hitting pretty hard, til my ass was red and sore. Every time I complained he said ok Sandy, have a nice life and made to walk out until I had to beg to have him start again. By the time he was done my ass was glowing like a stoplight. Then I sucked and licked his cock for oh, maybe two hours. On my hands and knees. Then he told me that I hadn't done a good enough job and would have to be spanked some more. This time the spanking was so hard it brought tears to my eyes. While he was busy abusing my poor sore butt, he told me he would come see me in another week, but only if I had the self-discipline to refrain from masturbating or having any sex for that week. After he was done spanking me, he got dressed and left.

I got about three days into it and then just couldn't. I mean give me a break, I was nineteen and hot and had been teased and tormented and driven just about nuts. He called after six days and asked if I had been chaste. It would have been so easy to lie to him, but I couldn't, I don't know why, I just couldn't. I told him that I went three days and then started masturbating like crazy. He got really angry. Said that he thought I was a "more interesting" woman than that, but, apparently, I was just a little tramp, no one he wanted anything to do with. He hung up and that was it. I didn't have the nerve to call him again and he never called me.

....................

About two years later I was working behind the counter at the big music store in our local mega-mall one Saturday afternoon when Carl came in, wanting some sheet music. I recognized him and started to talk to him and we wound up having lunch that afternoon. Older and a bit more relaxed, I was even more captivated than I had been as a teenager. Once again I agreed to refrain from sex or masturbation for a week and made a date to have him over to my place the following Saturday. This time I complied and when Carl called, I was able to honestly tell him that I had been completely chaste.

I was literally dripping with lust and frustration by the time he came over. Just like he had two years previously, he made me submit to a long hard spanking and then give him a blow job. This time he deigned to play with me for a bit but he did not allow me to cum. He got dressed, and just before he was about to leave, congratulated me on my self- discipline and told me that I just might be the kind of girl he was looking for, but still had a ways to go to prove it to him.

I was to go another week without sex. This time I was to be allowed no pleasure at all. I was to completely refrain from touching my erogenous zones except to wash and wipe. Of course I was absolutely not allowed any sexual contact with anyone else. I told him how difficult this was going to be but I thought I could do it. He said that it was my choice. I could either show some strength of character, as he put it, or I could find another lover. The truth was, that at this point I wanted Carl so much I would have done just about anything for him.

A week of intense frustration passed, but finally it was Saturday and Carl showed up as promised. He had me wearing my very tightest jeans, with no panties, naked from the waist up. All that happened was that I spent about three hours worshipping his cock and his feet, bringing him to orgasm several times. Despite some begging on my part I was not allowed so much as to remove my pants, and got not a smidgeon of pleasure. And of course I had to go yet another totally chaste week.

By the time he showed up the following Saturday I had been frustrated for three full weeks and was just about hysterical to get some sex. He had me dressed all in pink. Pink heels, pink sheer stockings, pink garter belt, pink garters, pink teddy. What a sight I must have been, dressed like a total slut, visibly aroused, skin positively glowing, and feeling like I would do anything in the universe to get some relief for my burning pussy.

Without saying a word he handcuffed my hands behind my back and attached some very tight clamps to my nipples. The clamps hurt, let me tell you, hurt like hell as I never had had anything clamped there and my nipples were hard and swollen from arousal and denial, but I gritted my teeth as he hooked the clamps together with some too short rubber bands. My very large boobs were pulled together, and the force of them wanting to spring back apart pulled on the already painful clamps. It was agony. I begged Carl to have mercy on me. He just grinned and gave me the hottest, sexiest kiss I ever had had in my whole life. I practically came right then, just from the kiss, that's how turned on I was.

Next he made me lie on my bed. I have a big four poster, great for sex. He lifted my ankles up over my head and tied them to the posts sticking up from the headboard of the bed. I was splayed out and totally helpless and praying that he would fuck me. He got undressed and gave me a few thrusts, the first time he had been inside of me since our first sex more than two years ago. The pleasure was so very intense, but he left me frustrated.

He then proceeded to kiss and caress every part of me. Telling me how beautiful and sexy I was, how much he enjoyed being with me. He was so sweet. In between the kissing and caressing he would put his cock inside me and make love to me for a few minutes, but he was careful not to allow me the relief I so desperately craved.

Finally, after a few hours of this, after I was quite literally crying from the combination of the sweetness, the pleasure and the frustration, he got out a chastity belt and proceeded to hook me up in it. I begged him not to, begged him to allow me at least some relief, but he just grinned that big toothy grin of his, kissed me and then told me that I was the best girl he had ever met.

.................................

So now yet another week has passed. Four weeks total without a speck of relief for the fire between my legs.

I live in a 2 bedroom garden apartment right in the middle of our mid-sized town, and all my previous encounters with Carl had been in that apartment. Carl lives in this ramshackle old house on a rather spectacular 20 acre property, way out in the country. Woods and streams and magnificent landscaping. Carl is a fanatic gardener and the place, in late spring, was about as beautiful as could be. I caught my breath, tears in my eyes, as I pulled into his long winding driveway, Clematis and Azaleas and Rhodendruns glowing in the morning sunlight.

Beautiful on the outside at least. Inside it was rather drab, like the kind of place you would expect a bachelor, who cared everything for plants and flowers, but little for interior design, to live in. A place within which no woman, or so he told me, had ever stepped foot for the entire six years that he had owned it. It was neat enough, but it sort of smelled and the dirt was caked on and grimy in just the places you would think.

The first thing Carl did, after he kissed me and welcomed me, was to have me strip to my chastity belt. It was made of black leather and polished chrome and I must have looked like a fetishist's dream in it, twenty one years old, with my overlarge boobs, my long blond hair and the needy, lustful look in my eyes.

After he paraded me around a bit he unlocked the belt. I was trembling with anticipation, as he took my completely naked self into his strong arms. But relief was not to be. He just wanted to inspect me for irritation, clean me up and shave my pussy. All his attentions, casual and joking though they were, brought my dripping wet pussy just to the brink, but, as usual, he was totally attuned to me and very careful not to allow me over the edge. He hooked me back in the belt, made some tea and sat me down on his sofa for a chat.

He brought out a calendar. He had circled, in bright red magic marker, Saturday, June 30th, the day I was to be allowed out of my chastity prison for some sex. I was a bit taken aback. That was 4 weeks in the future. I didn't know if I could go 4 more minutes. Seeing my crestfallen look, he put his finger under my chin and made me look into his black as coal smoldering eyes. He said that he wasn't sure if I had really volunteered for the chastity belt, being as I was bound to my bed when he first put it on, so now he wanted me to choose. He could let me out right at this instant. He thought I had earned some sex, so he would fuck me all day long if that was what I wanted, but after today it would end.

Or I could submit to him. Yes, he used that exact word. Submit. I was to do everything he required of me, no exceptions, no matter what. If I was good, I would be allowed out on June 30th. If I fucked up he would add time to my chastity sentence. But once I made my choice, he would be in complete control of my sex life. And he wanted me to know, as if I didn't know already, that he was a sadist, and would not make things easy for me.

It was a horribly difficult choice, the most difficult choice of my life to that point. There was nothing in the world I wanted to do more than fuck Carl, but to do so I would have to give him up for ever after. Each alternative seemed horrible. I started to cry. Carl went into another room to give me time to think. Sandy, I said to myself, you're a human being not an animal, not the prisoner of your lust and fear, but the mistress of your own desires. It sounded pretty good. I think I had read it in some s&m manual I had found in a porn shop when I had first started seeing Carl.

Anyway, you must know what my choice was to be. In the end it really wasn't all that hard. I am a human being, not an animal and, as a human being, I knew precisely what I wanted. I told Carl that I would be his and we celebrated with a long, slow lovefest. Of course I was still locked in my belt so although it was sweet and wonderful, it, basically, just added to my frustration and the burning in my pussy.

A few days later I am back at Carl's house. He has me strip, then dresses me in this little maid's outfit, complete with a white crinoline cap and six inch spike black heels. He straps cuffs onto my wrists and ankles. The ankle cuffs are connected with an 18" chain. The wrists cuffs are connected in front of me by a one foot chain. He then takes me into the main bathroom. It is filthy. Even filthier than it had been a few days previously. There is grime caked on the toilet, in the tub, in the sink. The grout between the small tiles on the floor is black and oily. In the center of the floor is a small sponge, maybe two inches square, a bucket and some spic'n'span.

He has me lean over the tub, lift up the short skirt of my outfit and pull down my black lace panties. He steps out of the room and returns with a thin wooden cane. Smack, the cane lashes down on my exposed ass. I scream. The pain a hundred, a thousand times more intense than the pain from a spanking. It goes right through me this pain, right from my ass into my stomach. Again he hits me with the cane. This time it is even worse. Worse, I think from the anticipation. I am crying. Why is he being so cruel to me?

He then tells me, while I am still leaning over the edge of the bathtub, in a completely nasty tone of voice, without a trace of love or affection or humor, that I am to clean his bathroom. I have ninety minutes. After ninety minutes I am to get back into this position. He will inspect my work. If he finds even the slightest speck of dirt, he will administer fifteen lashes with the cane. If I have done a satisfactory job, I will not have to suffer further punishment on this day. Without further ado Carl leaves me alone to my work.

It is difficult and degrading to clean Carl's bathroom. Dressed and hobbled as I am, using the tiny sponge. But I do not want to have anything whatsoever to do with that awful cane, which is hanging from a hook in the wall for me to contemplate. So I scrub and scrub in a fever of fear. Scrub Carl's shit from the underside of his toilet seat. Scrub the crap from the bathtub and the sink. Scrub on my hands and knees, hobbled and utterly humiliated. There is a big clock that is ticking off the minutes and I am quite hysterical to finish before my time is up. After 80 minutes the work seems done. I use my remaining time searching out possible flaws, but am terrified as there are some little ledges that are almost impossible to get to in my hobbled condition.

At the required time I lean myself over the tub, pull down my panties and await my fate. Carl walks slowly into the room. While I am leaning over the tub, trying not to whimper, he carefully inspects his spanking clean bathroom. Running his fingers over every surface, looking for dirt. He finds none, or, in any event is satisfied. He has me stand up, congratulates me on a job well done, removes my restraints and tells me to get dressed and go home.

And that's it. No kissing, no hugging, no kind words, no nothing. Treated like a servant. Or a dog.

That night I cry myself to sleep. I feel so rejected, frightened of what the future might bring. Frightened that I have signed my life away to this cold-hearted stranger who does not love me.

But on Saturday I show up and it is as if the bathroom cleaning episode had never happenned. Carl couldn't have been sweeter, removing my belt, cleaning me, shaving my pussy which had started to itch terribly inside the confines of the belt, telling me what a wonderful girl I was. All very intense for me, heightened by my denial. I am in a swoon of love and adoration for this man who pretty much owns my ass. He puts my belt back on and then makes love to me in every way but the way I crave most. Still it is wonderful, my frustration growing, but my deeper needs for love and acceptance being stroked like crazy. I now have three weeks left in my sentence of chastity.

Four days later, Wednesday again, I am back at the house and Carl is back in sadist mode. I have to clean the shit out of his asshole with my tongue and am not allowed to put my tongue back in my mouth. After ten or fifteen minutes I just had to get some saliva. When he feels my tongue pull away from his asshole he grabs me by my hair stands me up and starts to lecture me. About how his pleasure is the complete and total goal of my life. And so on and so forth. He then ties me up, attaches a very nasty clamp to my tongue. Attaches the chain that is connected to the clamp to a hook in the ceiling and arranges me so I have to stand on my tippy-tip toes to keep my tongue from being pulled out of my mouth. He tells me this punishment suites "my crime" and will teach me to keep my tongue extended until he gives me permission to retract it. Right.

It is too much. Torture. Fear. Unbelievable pain in my calves after just a few minutes. Pain that makes me dizzy but I dare not faint and fall. I can't speak. He makes me stand like this for almost an hour, though it seems like a century. When he releases me I let him have it. Cursing him out. Calling him all sorts of names. The anger and the frustration, bottled up for more than two years comes spewing out at Carl, who just sits on his couch with a superior smirk on his face. I tell him I am sick of this whole situation, that I want out, want the belt off and fuck you I don't ever want to see you again, asshole.

Carl gets up at this last outburst goes to another room and returns with the key to my chastity belt. "Care to try to take this from me?", he says, all seventy-four broad and muscular inches of him. I can't believe he will hold me against my will but that seems to be the situation. I curse him some more, yell, stomp around but what am I to do? After I have wound down a bit Carl goes off to the kitchen and returns with the calendar. He crosses off Saturday, June 30th, and then makes a red circle around Wednesday, July 4th, Independence Day.

"Sandy, this is just unacceptable behavior," he says, "and you will have to suffer. I have added four days to your chastity sentence. If you act up again I will continue to add days." He then has me bend over the arm of the couch and canes me for almost two hours. Slowly. Sadistically. Making me count and thank him and beg for each stroke. By the time he is done my ass is covered with bruises and welts. I have fainted two or three times. My whole world has been turned into a nightmare of misery and suffering.

I cry all the way home. But it isn't until the next day that the import of what has happened fully strikes. Not only have I been told that I can't get out of the situation even if I want to, not only have I been tortured past all endurance, but my release date has been changed from a loving Saturday to a sadistic Wednesday.

Then it is Saturday, six weeks into my sentence of chastity, two weeks and four days to go. We have a nice little talk. Yes, he informs me, he has no plans to ever let me go. I am to be his slave for as long as he wants me. Hadn't I agreed at the beginning. That word, slave, it makes me shiver with both fear and with desire (actually, by this time, most any word - garbage, cat, automobile - might have made me shiver with desire). I really am his slave. Completely under the thumb of this sadistic man. How has my life gotten to this point?

Wednesday is torture, the next Saturday is nice, but after seven weeks without any satisfaction my frustration is so intense and keen edged that nothing Carl can do with me is anything but painful. Weds, June 27th is hell, Saturday, June 30th not much better as the raging fire that burns and burns inside me makes even Carl's presence in the same room a torment.

Finally it is Wednesday, July 4th, Independence Day. Here is what happened:

Carl has me strip to the chastity belt. Then he ties my arms to rings in a wooden frame he has set up in the living room. My right arm is attached with a stretchy black bungy cord. He then unlocks my chastity belt and removes it, my breath coming in ragged gasps of desire already. He arranges the bungy cord so that, by using all my strength, I can almost, but not quite, touch my pussy. I want to scream in frustration but I have been trained like a dog to be good. After a few minutes, satisfied that he has the tension in the bungy cord just right, he gives me a thin wispy feather.

This is to be my reward for two months of chastity - the chance to get myself off with a feather. I beg and plead with him to fuck me properly, to give me some real fun after all this. He just smiles. "Fun?" he says. If you had been good we would have had lots of fun this past Saturday. But you had to go and screw things up with your childish ranting." He actually seems angry. I know that I can't push him, not now, not on Wednesday, so I try to make the best of it. And guess what, I am so horny by this time that just touching the feather to my clit is going to be more than enough to get me off. I start moaning and groaning. Carl takes the feather from my hand.

"Much too easy for you. A challenge was more what I had in mind," he says. Carl then finds some cotton panties and slips a pair up my legs and over my burning pussy. Then another on top of the first and, finally, a third pair on top of the first two. He then ties my legs to the frame, leaving me spread eagled in a standing position, and gives me back the feather. "You have an hour, good luck. You won't get another chance for a month."

Oh no, this is too awful. I can hardly feel the feather. And stretching my arm out against the tension of the bungy cord, so that the feather can touch my three-layered panties, is exhausting. It takes me almost fifty minutes to find the proper rhythm, to actually get myself near orgasm. It is difficult indeed, and horribly slow going despite my wild desperation. But, thank God, I think I can actually do it despite the obstacles. Yes, oh yes, I get closer and closer, not keeping track of time, utterly crazy to get myself over the blissful edge. Then, just as I am about to cum for the first time in two months, the feather is snatched from my hand. "Times up," Carl says. "And time to get you back in your belt."

The End

[ Back to chastity fiction page ]

Page last updated 03-Mar-01 by: Altairboy@aol.com