The Belt

Submitted by: Master Ivan
Copyright © 2002

She awoke one morning wearing the belt.

She had no idea where it came from. She remembered no interruption from her sleep, no events the previous night which could account for its presence, no encounters of any kind that would explain it being there. But it was there...unmistakable, impenetrable, unremovable.

She discovered it when she awoke, as one hand drifted down to caress herself.

She usually awoke aroused to some extent. Sometimes it would be just a brief touch before she rose and got into the shower, sometimes she would indulge herself for some extended solitary play, even including some toys she had secreted in a nearby drawer in the nightstand beside her bed. Today, there would be no such play.

The belt was snug around her waist. Not uncomfortably tight, but she would have a hard time getting a single finger beneath the two inch wide strap which encircled her just above the hips, or beyond the similar strap that ran straight down to her cunt.

It was not solid leather, or rubber, or plastic, in fact she was not sure what it was made of, although it bore resemblance to all three. She did idly take a nail file while she was still reeling from the shock of its presence, and attempt to slice into the belt. It left no mark, nor did a pair of scissors or a nail clipper.

It led to a screen of some kind of hardened metal over her cunt. Its small openings would not interfere with her pissing, nor showering, at least she could rinse herself. But nothing would touch her there.

From the bottom of the screen, the straps divided and ran up her ass cheeks, bypassing her anus. She could shit without interference.

She used the bathroom, then showered, finding the belt did not interfere with her hygiene in any way. All but the surface of her labia could be towel dried, and her cunt responded to a hair dryer in barely a minute, both drying and feeling the arousal from the warm air blast. No, it would not be enough to bring on an orgasm.

She put on a bathrobe and stared down at it for awhile. "Where the fuck did you come from???", she asked it desperately, almost as if she expected an answer. There was none.

She had a job, and she was already running late. The mystery between her thighs would have to await a more opportune time.

There were a pair of events at work, events of significance to her, although she did not realize it at the time. In the morning, one of her managers flirted with her a bit, making sexual references to a part of her lower body he found attractive. She responded by turning her chair under her desk, hiding his view of the aforementioned part and scowling at his audacity. She then felt a weird feeling between her thighs...much like the static charge one gets from sliding out of the car a bit too fast on a cold dry winter day. Her eyes widened, not even sure what she felt, but it was gone several seconds after her manager left the room.

The second event took place in the afternoon. A co-worker, one she felt attracted to, asked her for a small favor. She complied with a smile, displaying herself to be attractive to him, almost waiting with deference for his approval before moving on. As she paused before him, she again felt something between her thighs, but this time it was notably pleasurable, much like a vibrator but without the buzz.

This time, she realized precisely what had happened. The belt had sent a charge into the tissues around her cunt, much like the electro-stimulation used for muscle workouts when one is too lazy to exercise. It was as stimulating as a finger, or even a tongue. She felt herself moistening, and knew somehow it was a reward.

By the time she arrived home, she was feeling a pleasant glow. Nevertheless, she was a sexually active woman, with or without an appropriate partner. Normally, she would have taken a bit of pleasure before leaving for work, and a bit more when returning. Now, she quickly undressed, put on a terrycloth robe and sat on the edge of her bed staring at it.

It was black in color, with the screen mesh over her cunt looking like chrome plated steel. It was certainly comfortable, without a hint of chafing. Aroused, and getting more aroused by the minute, she pressed hard onto the mesh surface trying to get some kind of touch response beneath it, but stopped quickly when she felt that charge, the unpleasant kind, rushing thru her even more strongly than it did that morning.

Curious now, she raised her hands to her nipples, began caressing them, licking a finger and running small circles around one, and she again felt the pleasant vibrations down below. Experimenting, she squeezed one nipple almost to the point of pain, finding it surprisingly arousing under the circumstances. In response, she felt even more of the pleasant charge. One hand then tried again to slip beneath the belt, and the resultant jolt was extremely unpleasant. And the pleasure vibration stopped.

"Who the fuck is watching me???", she screamed at the empty room. Someone had to know exactly what she was doing, someone had to be controlling the belt.

Frustrated, she closed her robe again (which gave her a small jolt) and went to the kitchen, fixing a small salad for dinner. She watched the news on TV, almost forgetting the belt for a time, then went to bed.

She intended to put the thing out of her mind, regardless of how horny she was getting, and get right to sleep. The second she removed the robe, however, her pleasure center started getting the "Good" signal again, causing her to moan. She picked up the robe, and felt the slight shock. She tossed the robe to the floor, out of her sight, and the pleasure vibration returned, stronger than before.

Her eyes widened as she contemplated the experience. "I am being trained", she thought. How, by whom, for whom and for what purpose she still had no idea, except that her own sexuality was the arena of activity that was in constant evaluation.

She decided to try some posturing, to see if her positions drew a response.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she felt nothing. She crossed her arms, hiding her breasts, and felt an ever-so-slight jolt. " would seem it wants me to show off my breasts..." She laced her fingers behind her neck, pulling her elbows back, and felt a strong pleasurable signal begin. She stood, and it stopped. She knelt down, and it returned in force.

Looking at the clock, she realized she would have to get to sleep soon if she would be effective at work tomorrow. Laying in bed, she got a brief negative pulse, but it died quickly.

Another negative one came when she pulled up the blankets, but it changed to a long pleasurable rush when she cast the covers off her and kicked them off the end of the bed onto the floor.

She smiled. "It would appear it wants me to sleep naked on the bed. I guess I could enjoy that."

She reached for the end table drawer and took out her vibrator. "Here is where we may learn a lot more."

She began caressing herself with it, the vibrator turned off. There were few responses, most of the pleasant variety. As her arousal built, she decided to push the envelope. She switched it on and began moving it down the center of her body.

Suddenly the shocks returned. The closer she got to the belt, the more noticeable they became. Desperate, she switched it to high and pressed it hard right against the mesh.

The resultant shock made her scream, as the dildo flew across the bed onto the floor and her hands held her cunt as it burned with the pain.

She cried a bit, feeling defeated. She laid there a few minutes, recuperating from what was obviously a serious punishment from the belt. She thought about her strategy as she tried to relax, and finally came up with an alternative.

She slowly moved off the bed and picked up the vibrator. She lit a candle, turning down the other lights, then knelt before her floor length mirror, opening her thighs. The pleasant stimulation returned and stayed.

She caressed her nipples, since it seemed to like that before. She then switched the vibrator on low, and she began moving it around her body, exploring the reactions. When she found a place that responded to the stimulation, arousing her, the belt cooperated. Only when she moved close enough to stimulate herself directly did it switch to giving her a warning.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like a whore, kneeling opened and displayed. She felt embarrassed, humiliated, but she also felt herself responding to the sight of herself, aided by the belt. On a whim, she took the latex coated, very realistic vibrator and, keeping her eyes on herself, took the head of it into her mouth.

The vibrations increased beneath her. And they got stronger whenever she took the phallus deeper into her mouth. She tried to deep-throat it, and the strong charge almost threw her into an orgasm.

She paused, put the vibrator down on the table and stood. As the vibrations stopped, she began to slowly walk around the room, looking at things, seeing them with the added influence of the belt standing by. She walked into the kitchen, by the stove and sink, past the fridge, over to where the laundry was in a far corner. There was a bag of clothespins there, and when her eyes met them, there was a strong pleasurable rush.

"Well, it seems like it can almost talk." She picked up the bag of clothespins, took one more uneventful pass around the kitchen, then returned to the bedroom.

The belt seemed to be actively guiding her now. Still naked, she drifted towards the bed, but the belt signaled her otherwise, eventually guiding her back to the mirror where she obediently knelt. Placing the bag next to the vibe, she passed her hand over both items. She got a "no" over the vibe and a "yes" from the bag. She picked a clothespin out of the bag, then moaned with the resultant pleasure. She began moving it around her, noticing the subtleties of the belt's signals. It stopped at her right nipple. She gasped, as suddenly the image came to her of a kinky photo she saw once, of a girl with her nipples clamped with clothespins, her face wrenched with pain. Somehow, she knew what the belt wanted from her.

She paled, knowing how sensitive her nipples were to the slightest discomfort, even more so when they were swollen with her arousal as they had been for the better part of the day.

Feeling fearful, her hand began moving away, but the belt would not take no for an answer.

She steeled herself. held her nipple out with the opposite hand, then carefully closed the pin over her erect nipple.

"AAAaaaarrrgghhhh!!!" She cried out with the pain, moved her hand back as if to remove the clothespin, but the belt quickly stopped her. She would have to suffer, and worse, she got the signals reminding her that she had one nipple still unencumbered.

A minute later, that nipple was also clamped. Her moans became continuous now, as both clothespins bobbed gaily on her chest. The belt approved, as it began slowly ratcheting up the stimulation. Another minute, and the pain faded to a dull roar as the belt got into second gear.

Reaching around her with both her eyes and hands, it told her she was ready to play with the vibrator again. She picked it up and again, moving it about her body, got the distinct signal that her mouth was to be the target. She took it into her mouth and, watching herself in the mirror, began to suck it like a live cock.

Now, the stimulation was enough to allow her to endure the pain from her nipples. Slowly, the pain and pleasure merged, adding themselves together into a mixed set of signals that brought her far higher than the kind of solitary stimulation that she was used to. And as she saw herself in the mirror, naked, clamped, displayed and sucking a rubber cock, the degraded image added itself to all the other stimulation. She even noticed that the deeper she took it into her mouth, the stronger was the stimulation. Once, she deep-throated it, and it nearly brought her to orgasm.

The signals interrupted her. It was a time for a change. Again, she explored herself with the vibrator, going by the signals in her cunt, this time being led to her ass. She moaned, never having been fucked in the ass before, but the vibrator began stimulating her with a focus on her rear opening, stimulating the muscles there, relaxing her. She got on all fours, her ass outthrust, and began probing her anus with the end of the dildo.

To her surprise, the stimulation worked, allowing her to open herself to the dildo. It entered her asshole, and as she began stroking it in and out, it pushed deeper on each stroke, until nearly eight inches of it was buried in her ass.

She thrust it in repeatedly, silently praying she would get enough stimulation back there for a badly needed orgasm. It was not to be yet, though, as the signals made her withdraw it and move back to her knees facing the mirror.

It was again led to her mouth. Now, though, she clearly saw the remnants of her ass soiling the dildo. She backed it away, but strong signals told her she would have to do the obvious, however unpleasant she might find it. Moaning and shuddering, she thrust the soiled dildo into her mouth.

She moaned as she saw herself sucking the cock again. And moaned deeper as she tasted what it bore. And the pleasure signals from the belt told her it liked what she was doing a great deal.

Another signal came to her. She tried withdrawing the dildo from her mouth, but no, that was not what was wanted. She searched around with her eyes, desperate to bring back the pleasure, until her eyes paused on the candle. Yes, that was it. But what was she to do with it?

She picked it up, considering blowing it out. The no from that thought made her bounce on her knees as if she had been whipped. She again felt the bobbing clothespins on her nipples, and felt the candle drawn there like a magnet. As it moved close, over her breasts, it dripped some wax, which landed on the top of one breasts. She screamed twice--once from the pain, then again from the wave of pure pleasure from the belt.

Without breaking her stroke with the soiled dildo she was actively cleaning with her mouth, she let more wax drip on her other breast. Again, the scream of pain, then one of pleasure. She moved faster now, thrusting the dildo deep into her mouth and throat, letting the wax fall freely on her breasts, crying out with the accelerating pain and pleasure that was rapidly overcoming her.

Finally, the belt let her come. She screamed, the candle dropping from her hand, as both hands took hold of her breasts and squeezed, amplifying the pain in her nipples from the clothespins and crying out with an orgasm as powerful as any she remembered.

When her orgasm finished, she quickly removed the clothespins--suddenly fearful of the belt disapproving, but without need for concern. The belt granted her a soothing vibration to her entire lower body, bringing on relaxation and, moments later, sleep.

* * *

The alarm awoke her for work. She was sleeping on the floor, naked, the dildo, candle and clothespins beside her. She shuddered with the memory of the previous night's experiences, then looked down at the belt still wrapped around her, covering her cunt.

The jolt got her attention, much like a Master wanting the full attention of His slave. The pain receded when she arose to her knees. She tried to rise to her feet, but again, a jolt stopped her. This was not pleasant, she thought. Usually, she'd caress herself for a few minutes when she awoke, setting a relaxed, indulgent atmosphere for her morning and taking the edge off any stress she might be feeling. Now, she knelt before the mirror, and she knew the belt wouldn't let her rise until she had done its bidding.

Her eyes wandered, looking for the sign. She felt nothing until she looked at the dildo, feeling a brief pulse. It became a steady low rush as her hand picked it up. Learning, she again moved it around her body, letting the yes and no signals guide her until it was clear it wanted the dildo in her mouth.

So she knelt there, still awakening, kneeling naked at her mirror, sucking on the dildo as she watched herself. She moaned in frustration, as it was clear there would not be enough stimulation to bring her to orgasm. She was not being offered pleasure in return for service, but rather being made to perform an exercise for training purposes, without pleasure being given back.

She tried to reach for the clothespin bag, in spite of the severe soreness she still felt in her nipples from last night, thinking that perhaps a sacrifice of pain would allow her pleasure, but a substantial "no" jolt from the belt told her that would not be allowed either.

So she sucked the dildo, trying to please it sensuously as she would a man's cock, as she watched the clock. Five minutes went by, and she got a substantial pleasure buzz from the belt. The dildo was set aside and she was allowed to rise and shower.

She dried off, then sat naked in her bedroom applying makeup. Was she making her eyes darker and deeper appearing than usual? Was her lipstick making her lips appear fuller than she was used to? When she finished the makeup, her face did appear far more sensual than it did normally.

Her lingere drawer provided some surprises as she sought out a conservative bra and panties to wear. Several jolts from the belt told her in no uncertain terms that it would only allow her to dress as it permitted. In this case, the panty was one of the tiniest G-strings she had, in red. And her bra barely covered her nipples with the sheerest of fabric. From outside her top, it would appear she was braless, except her breasts would be thrust out wantonly and separated to display them almost obscenely.

Another correction was administered when she attempted to pick up a pair of pantyhose. No, she would be wearing stockings and a garter belt today, the stockings black and textured, the garter belt red to match the bra and g-string. She was made to pass the garter straps beneath the panty, clearly so the panty could be removed easily if need be.

She felt aroused just from the sight of herself in the scant lingerie. When she picked up her usual cologne, a conservative scent, her hand was corrected until she chose another alternative, something designed to draw men closer like a magnet. The guiding force had her adding an extra spritz between her breasts and one more at the apex of her thighs.

Her closet, she knew, held a variety of clothes, from tee-shirts and jeans, to dresses appropriate for conservative work wear, right on down to items at the far corner that she would not want to be wearing around children. It was to that corner her hand was guided, although fortunately, it did not choose something that would cost her her job. Still, her co-workers would certainly be staring at the cleavage she would be revealing today, as well as at the substantial expanse of thigh that was exposed. She'd have to watch her movements very carefully to avoid revealing herself.

Finally, there were her shoes. Thorough to the end, the belt would not allow her the usual office flats, but demanded she wear strapped pumps with four inch heels.

She appraised herself in the mirror once more. She was shocked at her looks--even as she walked, the heels caused her motions to seethe with sexuality, her body begging for attention. The men at the office would be drooling over her, and she would not be able to do a thing about it.

While the weather was warm, she knew she had to take a sweater as a wrap for the trip into work, if only to protect her from the eyes of strangers. As she reached for the sweater, the belt again corrected her. She would not be permitted to cover herself, not even for the trip to and from work. Her body would be exposed for all to see, a slut begging for attention. An aroused slut as well, as she had not been allowed pleasure that morning.

The trip in on the bus was an intense experience, with her very conscious of all the eyes appraising her, undressing her in their minds. She knew every guy that looked at her imagined their hands on her body, imagined sexual couplings, probably imagined her kneeling and servicing them. Her mind was drawn back to the mirror, watching herself sucking the rubber cock before the mirror, kneeling naked and exposed, remaining denied while she provided pleasure. A very stimulating buzz from the belt acknowledged the connection, reaffirming the fact that she was in training with some very well-defined goals.

Her arrival in the office caused a stir, as she expected. She blushed as the eyes followed her, few of them looking at her above her shoulders. Her desk was not far from the center of the room, and she would remain on display thruout her work day. When she had to stretch to reach the higher drawers in the filing cabinet behind her desk, she felt her skirt rise up several inches, almost high enough to reveal her ass-cheeks. And when she had to bend to get into one of the lower desk drawers, she knew anyone who wished could look down the top of her dress and see her breasts down to her nipples.

Worse, the belt would not allow her to conceal herself. Several times she unconsciously began to cross her legs, but the belt jolted her until she not only uncrossed them, but spread her knees a few inches apart, almost like a small punishment. Similarly, if she crossed her arms across her chest, the belt would punish her until she drew back her shoulders and displayed her chest brazenly.

She feared encountering her boss, not sure how he would react. He could very easily fire her for her distracting appearance, or just as easily decide to take it as a come-on. She saw him staring at her from a distance several times before, a couple hours into the morning, he summoned her into his office.

There was a legitimate excuse, of course, some minor matter around filing something or other, before he just sat and blatantly looked her up and down, evaluating her body and smiling at what he saw. He walked around the desk and stood inches in front of her, looking down the front of her dress. She made the beginnings of a move to conceal her breasts, but the belt reminded her that would not be allowed.

He soon made the expected comments. He loved what he was looking at, and could she see how much he liked it? Her eyes drew down and saw the obvious erection.

The belt jolted her. What had she done wrong? She remained as she had been guided, sitting upright, her breasts on display and her skirt riding up to the top of her thighs. The discomfort grew as she noticed the pleasure rising beside the pain each time she looked at his bulging pants. It took a full minute to realize what both her boss and her belt were demanding of her, and she recalled the sight of herself in the mirror.

Slowly, she let herself slip from the chair to her knees before him. He smiled, a hand patting the top of her head encouragingly. With the belt urging her on, she had to undo his pants herself and take out his cock. He moaned with her touch, leaning back against the desk and looking down at her face as she took him into her mouth. He thrust forward, and she began sucking him, matching her strokes with his, allowing him to set the rhythem and depth. At one point. he thrust a bit hard, and her hand moved to restrain him, to hold him from going too deep, but the belt gave her a serious jolt, warning her not to interfere with her use. Her hands went to his hips, to his ass, pulling him closer, until she found herself taking him deep into her throat.

The belt guided her, rewarding her with stimulation whenever she took him deep, warning her when she showed any resistance or reluctance. When he reached down to pull her dress and bra off her breasts, revealing her, she offered no resistance. When one hand took her nipple and began squeezing, and when the other hand took hold of her hair, forcing her mouth down even deeper on his cock, she accepted it without a hint of objection.

When he finally came in her mouth, she thought briefly about where she could spit it out, but the belt offered a severe warning. She knew she had to swallow it all. She continued to suck him, caressing him more gently after his orgasm, until he himself urged her head off of him. It was not until he verbally dismissed her that she was allowed by the belt to rise from her knees and cover her breasts again.

As she walked out of his office, she noted a small drop of his cum that had fallen to the cleavage of her dress, right at the edge. She made a move to get a tissue to wipe it, but was warned against it. If anyone looked closely, they would see that small drop of cum, revealing what had gone on inside the bosses office.

The trip home was more of the same. This time, the bus was crowded, and she was forced to stand. The heels continued to enhance the sexuality of her appearance, and the necessity to hold onto the overhead bars with both hands raised her skirt substantially as well as thrusting out her breasts. Regularly, men standing near her would allow themselves to be pushed against her by the motion of the bus. If she made any moves to avoid the intimate contact, the belt would jolt her painfully. Once, when the bus had stopped, she made to lower one of her hands from the bars, but again, the belt said no. She felt almost like she was chained by her wrists overhead, exposed to anyone on the bus to look, touch and enjoy her brazen display.

Once home, the belt went into action again. She was made to remove her dress, but leave the shoes and underwear on. There was housework she had to get done, and she felt like a french maid, or perhaps even something far more sluttish as she did the work, unable to hide her body.

Later on, she was made to go to her wardrobe closet and go thru the clothes. The belt signaled her to select the conservative outfit she had intended to wear that morning, to remove it and lay it out on the bed. Several more articles, all conservative ones, also were taken out. With a series of shocks and jolts, she eventually was led to throw out all those items in the trash.

Dinner provided some surprises as well. She cooked as she normally would, the menu under her complete control, but when she put her plate on the kitchen table, the severe jolt told her the belt had other ideas. It didn't take her long to figure out what was intended, and soon the plate was on the floor, with her eating from it on her knees.

Bedtime still awaited her, and she wondered what kind of ordeal was in store for her. The answers came soon as she showered, dried herself, and entered the bedroom. It was not long before she was kneeling naked again at her mirror.

Much like the previous night, the dildo began in her mouth, then went into her ass, then back into her mouth again, all with her nipples painfully clamped. This time, she waited over fifteen minutes before being allowed to end the exercise, and this time there was no orgasm permitted for her. Several serious jolts from the belt told her the bed was off limits for her, as were any blankets or pillow. She slept naked on the hardwood floor beside the bed, aroused, yet strangely satisfied, dreaming of her bosses cock ramming down her throat as she swallowed his cum.

The daily pattern was establishing itself. She would sleep naked on the bare floor. When she awoke, there would be her training before the mirror. While there were variations each day, it always included cock sucking practice, the time getting longer each day until she was spending half an hour per session with the dildo in her mouth. Her clothes always revealed her as a slut, displaying her cleavage and a lot of thigh, and each day one or more items from the wardrobe would be condemned for not revealing enough of her and find themselves in the trash.

Her encounters with the boss became an expected daily event. She would enter at his summons, or walk in on her own if she wasn't called, and soon be kneeling before him, his cock in her mouth. Even more humiliating, and frustrating, his two closest assistants were soon made beneficiaries of her services, and at times, she would have to suck off all three in one session, not leaving her knees until all three were satisfied, all three loads of cum swallowed.

The bus ride continued to make her feel like she was displayed, almost on a meat rack. Even when the bus was not so crowded and seats were available, her hands were made to grip the overhead bar, presenting herself for anyone that cared to stare, even to touch if they wished.

Once, a man approached her as she got to her stop, took a good grip on her ass right in front of the other passengers, and asked her, "Care to gimme a little free sample of what you been advertising?" She was about to slap him, when the belt issued a firm warning. Red faced, she simply said, "Sure."

Five minutes later, she was in an alley, behind a dumpster, on her knees, giving the guy a blowjob. Again, the belt made it clear that she had to swallow his load.

As her seeming slavery to the belt deepened, her pleasure was slowly being reduced. At first, she was granted orgasm every other day, then every third day. Eventually, it was reduced to perhaps a couple times a week, spaced irregularly so she would never be sure when it would happen. She was ready to cum almost anytime, since the belt made sure to keep her aroused most of the time.

She went shopping one weekend. She began at the mall looking for clothes. When she headed to her preferred retailer, the place where she got her more conservative work clothes, a strong jolt told her that wasn't going to happen. She was guided to a different place, where the apparel was designed to bring out the slut in her, to reveal more than it hid, to draw the eyes of any guy who cared to look.

She then was brought to Victoria's Secrets, where she bought some more g-strings, stockings and garter belts, and some half-bras that would lift her breasts while keeping her nipples exposed.

She was surprised when, as she passed a pet store, the belt stopped her. She walked in and was guided to a rack of dog collars. She watched her hand pick out a black leather collar with chrome fittings and a lockable buckle. She also took a small padlock to fit. She then went to another section of the store and selected a dog kennel, pretty much just a chrome cage, one she noticed would be barely large enough for her to fit inside.

Home again, she was naked in moments except for the shoes, stockings and garters. And, of course, the belt. The collar went around her throat, and was padlocked. The key she hung from a small hook in the kitchen. A bit later that evening, she reached for the key, thinking of testing the lock, when she was hit with a major jolt. No, she would not be permitted to touch the key, or to unlock her collar.

It was a couple hours before bedtime when the belt summoned her to duty. She moved her coffee table to the bedroom, where she placed it opposite the mirror. The kennel cage was then put on the coffee table. Removing the heels, stockings and garter belt, she entered the cage wearing only the collar and belt. The door to the cage could be latched from inside, and soon she was in, laying on the floor of the cage in a fetal position, watching the image of herself in the mirror.

Her mind wandered as she laid in the cage, imagining people coming in to see her, perhaps her boss with some of his friends, knowing she could be brought out of the cage at any time to service them with her mouth, then returned to the cage when they finished using her.

She was kept in the cage for an hour, then a brief jolt moved her out, to her mirror. The dildo spent a full hour in her mouth this time, half of that time with her nipples clamped. And now, she watched herself collared while serving.

When she finished, she was brought back into the cage again where she was made to spend the night.

The routine continued, intensifying. She slept in the cage two or three times a week, the rest of the time on the floor. Soon, she had a short chain and a couple of snap-links. When she slept on the floor, her collar was attached to the post at the foot of her bed by the chain. She could not rise, even to her knees, when chained to the bed that way.

Whenever she had idle time, whenever she picked up a book, the belt would bring her to the mirror, or to the cage. When she was permitted to read, her stock of reading material soon adjusted to erotic themes, dominance and submission. Similarly with the television, she began buying videotapes of dominance, females in bondage and torture and sexual servitude.

At work, her submission deepened as perhaps half a dozen men began using her regularly, usually about twice a day. A few times, all of them lined up in a group and she was made to suck them all off in order. Even more humiliating, the boss took note of her locked collar and brought in a leash. When she served in his office, she was invariably leashed and led from man to man as they used her mouth.

Strangely, she wondered why they never attempted to reveal her lower body, or use her ass. She could only guess that the belt guided her subtle movements by varying the stimulation, in such a way as to send the right signals to the men.

In public, she was never clothed in any items that would conceal her perpetually erect nipples. Her cleavage was constantly displayed, as were her upper thighs. She had graduated into five inch heels, both pumps and sandals, and she never wore anything else. And her contacts with the public followed suit, as perhaps every other day a strange guy would invite her to suck his cock. She was never allowed to refuse. She was an utter slave without a Master, serving anyone on demand.

* * *

And so it continued, for another month, two months. Her arousal was always at a peak, as she was constantly ready to be used. At work, she had become the company slut. On the trip to and from work, she was also known as a public slut as a growing number of men began to use her in the streets. And she was a veritable prisoner in her own home, undergoing a training regimen that many women would be hard pressed to stay with, even with a flesh and blood Master.

Then, she got the phone call.

It was a woman. She began by asking, "You're wearing a chastity belt, you have no idea where it came from, and it has been training you in sexual submission. Right?"

Shocked, she answered, "Right."

"You would like to know more, and wish to know what you are being trained for, correct?"


"Then wait for me. I will pick you up in a few minutes. Be naked when I arrive."

The woman hung up.

She was already naked. She crawled to her mirror and knelt there, wrists crossed behind her back, and just looked at her body's reflection.

The door opened, since she had left it unlocked. The woman entered, walked into her bedroom and stood looking at her nakedness as she knelt.

Their eyes met briefly, wordlessly, as she knelt, then she lowered her eyes. The belt sent its approval as she simply held position, exposed and presented.

"I wore that belt for some six months", she began. Much like it did with you, it appeared without explanation and began training me." Her eyes scanned the room briefly, noting the cage, dildo, clothespins, the chain at the bedpost, even spotting the key to her collar on the kitchen wall from where she stood.

She smiled. "Yes, I went thru it all, just as you did. And I know you have been made to serve men, presenting yourself to them, obeying their wishes, servicing them with your mouth. I did it all, the same way. As you did, I first felt trapped, humiliated and degraded, then later aroused by it all. I was totally controlled.

"Finally, I was given to a Master. The belt led me to him, guided me to submit to him, to his use, his ownership. He was the first of several owners I served, including women as well as men.

"For me, once I was totally trained, I was permitted to own slaves myself. I have had three girls serve me so far, and you will be the fourth. Perhaps, some day, you may also be permitted to own another girl. Or, depending on your character, you may remain a slave girl permanently.

"For now, it is time for you to be owned, and to learn to serve another woman."

She looked up from her knees, not so much at the face of the woman who addressed her, but at her body. She was aware of the subtleties of the belt's responses to her every move, every reaction, every glance. She found herself looking at the other woman in terms of the body she would be serving--its characteristics, how it presented itself, the subtleties of its posture and expression, all with the intent to read it better and serve it well.

She had never had sex with a woman before, and she felt the reluctance briefly, until the belt sent her a firm signal that no hesitation would be permitted. The woman herself seemed to be aware of the belt's influence, as she then ordered, "Undress me."

She was permitted the use of her hands to remove the woman's clothes, noting that she dressed the same way, her bra, panties, stockings and garter belt all of a similar style.

Much like she did with the men she was made to serve, she held her hands behind her back, serving only with her mouth. The woman guided her with a word here, a tug on her hair there, but the belt did most of it, encouraging her lips and tongue to move in all the right places, to lick and suck where it did the most good, to prolong the pleasure she was giving and, of course, to swallow all the fluids her efforts caused to flow from the cunt she was servicing.

For the next hour, she remained on her knees, serving another woman for the first time in her life.

It had been only two days earlier when she was last permitted an orgasm. Tonight, there would be no pleasure for her. Following the session, she packed her few brief clothes that she had purchased under the belt's influence, as well as her few toys, dressed in the most exposing clothes she could wear legally in public and left her apartment with the woman holding her leash.

She became the woman's live-in slave. She never returned to her job, and was supported entirely by the woman. She slept every night on the floor by her bed, always leashed, sometimes with her wrists locked behind her back as well.

During the day, she did all the housework, the cooking, cleaning and laundry, dressed only in her strap-on 5" sandals, her locked collar and the belt. When her owner returned, she might be ordered to service her, or simply be placed in restraint to provide an arousing visual distraction. Sometimes the woman would punish her herself, either with a whipping or with some severe restraint, sometimes for cause, sometimes only for entertainment. Often, she would bring in guests, male or female, or several guests, and she would be required to serve them as well as a complete slave.

Her own pleasure was reduced to an orgasm no more often than once every couple weeks or so. Her arousal was constant, her cunt always wet. And what pleasure she enjoyed was always given to her by the belt while she served.

Some months later, she was given away, this time to a man. He used her as well, perhaps even more thoroughly. Over the next couple of years, she was owned by a series of Masters and Mistresses, each intensifying her use and training until she served without the slightest hint of reluctance or hesitation, with no demand for her own comfort or pleasure.

Finally, the belt vanished. She was owned by a couple at the time, who seemed not at all surprised by the change. She herself accepted it calmly, now well enough trained that she knew she was not to touch herself without permission, and also knowing that permission would be rare in coming. She was content, finding her complete fulfillment in serving as a slave girl.

The morning after the belt vanished, another girl, on the far side of the country, awoke to find the belt locked in place around her loins.

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