Belted · Part 2 (2/2)
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“Yes, Amelie,” Helen whispered, her voice barely audible, the low-profile teasing from the belt and corset making her tremble. Every step set off the inserts inside her, the anal plug and vaginal intruder shifting cruelly with her movement. The clit cup hummed softly, its gentle suction keeping her wet.
Helen reached for the wine bottle on the nearby counter, careful not to move too quickly. She could feel the tension in the thigh bands as she stretched slightly, her legs straining against the restriction. A faint click warned her of impending punishment, and she froze, but the zap came anyway.
As she turned back to Amelie, the sensors in the belt detected her elevated arousal. The suction on her clit intensified for a moment, the intruders pulsing in time with her racing heartbeat. Her body betrayed her, teetering on the brink of orgasm before the system snapped her back with a series of sharp, punishing zaps.
“Ah!” Helen yelped, her knees nearly buckling as the pain shot through her clit, ass, and nipples. The corset’s cups delivered their own cruel shocks, sending jolts of electricity through her tender, exposed flesh. Tears welled in her eyes as she struggled to recover, her body trembling from the ruined climax.
“Careful now,” Amelie said, her tone mockingly sweet. “You don’t want to spill a drop, do you? Cleaning up that carpet on your knees with the thigh bands on is guaranteed to zap you over and over.”
Helen blinked back tears, nodding obediently. “No, Amelie,” she choked out, her voice quivering.
She curtsied carefully to set the glass on the table, her thighs pressing together to avoid triggering the bands’ punishment mechanism. The corset dug into her sides, making her movements even more labored, her breasts heaving against the teasing electrodes.
“Good girl,” Amelie said with a smirk, gesturing for Helen to rise. “Now fetch my slippers. And don’t dawdle.”
Helen shuffled off, the constant grinding of the intruders bringing her closer and closer to the edge. Her legs shook, the stimulation making her core ache with unmet desire. Every breath felt shallow and strained, her body screaming for a release she knew would not be allowed to come. When the sensors registered her rising climax again, the zaps came—harder this time, more insistent. Her cry echoed softly in the room, but she quickly stifled it, her shoulders trembling as she obediently retrieved the slippers.
As she knelt to place them at Amelie’s feet, the tears she could no longer hold back slipped silently down her cheeks. Her frustration was a tangible thing, but she continued to serve. Amelie sipped her wine, watching with unmasked delight.
“Lovely,” Amelie murmured, her eyes gleaming as she leaned down to tilt Helen’s chin upward, forcing their eyes to meet. “The perfect little servant. Just remember, darling—it’s only day one.”
Personal service Amelie spread her legs languidly, the confident curve of her smile sending a shiver through Helen. “Now,” Amelie purred, her voice a velvet command. “Get between my legs and make yourself useful. You’d better be good at this, Helen.”
Helen hesitated for only a moment before obeying, her body moving on autopilot. She moved forward, the tight thigh bands biting into her flesh as she shuffled closer to Amelie. The teasing buzz of the belt and corset blurred her thoughts, leaving her focused solely on obedience. With trembling hands, she reached up to part the fabric of Amelie’s skirt, exposing her glistening folds.
Tentatively, Helen leaned forward, her lips pressing against the slick heat of Amelie’s sex. Her tongue flicked out, hesitant at first, before she began to explore with greater fervor. The faint taste of Amelie’s arousal mingled with her own rising heat, the vibrations and pulses of the belt driving her actions.
Amelie’s fingers tangled in Helen’s hair, tugging firmly to guide her movements. “That’s it,” she murmured, her voice thick with desire. “Deeper, slower. Make me feel it, darling.”
Helen complied, her tongue delving deeper, swirling and stroking in time with Amelie’s moans. The pressure of Amelie’s hand on her head grew, pulling her closer until Helen’s nose was pressed firmly against her clit. Her breath came in short, labored gasps, muffled against Amelie’s heat. The helplessness, the complete control Amelie exerted over her, ignited something raw and primal in Helen. Her own arousal surged, the belt’s sensors picking up her quickened pulse and reacting with teasing jolts.
Amelie’s hips began to buck, her grip on Helen’s hair tightening brutally. “Yes,” she hissed, her thighs clamping around Helen’s head. The movement cut off what little air Helen had, leaving her fighting to keep up, her tongue working desperately as Amelie ground against her face.
The scent and taste of Amelie’s climax hit her like a wave, her moans growing louder, more ragged. With a sharp cry, Amelie came, her body trembling as she pressed Helen hard against her folds. At that precise moment, the belt delivered its cruel punishment to Helen, ruining her own rising orgasm once more. Sharp, relentless zaps tore through her clit, ass, and nipples, wrenching a muffled cry from her as she struggled for breath, her body convulsing under the dual assault of stimulation and denial.
Amelie relaxed slightly, releasing Helen’s hair as she leaned back into the cushions, basking in the afterglow. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she gazed down at Helen, whose tear-streaked face glistened with evidence of her efforts. Helen was trembling, her lips swollen, her breaths ragged as she struggled to recover from the punishment.
“Ah, the symmetry of it,” Amelie murmured, her tone languid and amused. She ran a finger down Helen’s cheek, her touch almost gentle. “My pleasure, your denial. So perfectly balanced, don’t you think?”
Helen couldn’t respond, her voice lost in the haze of frustration and exhaustion. She simply knelt there, head bowed, her body still humming from the belt’s relentless teasing, her mind too fogged to think of anything but submission.
Amelie smirked, the satisfaction of her dominance written across her face as she produced a sleek gag. Helen didn’t resist; she didn’t have the strength to. The rubber ball slipped between her lips, the straps securing it tightly at the back of her head, muffling any protests she might have made.
Next, Amelie brought out soft ropes, expertly binding Helen’s arms in a butterfly tie. Her wrists were secured to her upper arms, leaving her shoulders pulled back, her chest pushed forward. The corset only enhanced the effect, her breasts thrust forward provocatively, framed by the tight embrace of the cups.
With Helen thus restrained, Amelie guided her to the bed, laying her down carefully. “There we go, my perfect little bedwarmer,” Amelie murmured, sliding in beside her. One hand rested possessively on Helen’s hip, while the other lazily stroked her hair.
Helen’s exhaustion dragged her into an uneasy sleep, her body wrung out from the relentless teasing and denial. In her dreams, she humped Amelie’s thigh, her bound body grinding desperately against the smooth skin, seeking friction that the belt denied her. The dream was vivid, her arousal climbing higher with every movement.
Suddenly, a sharp zap ripped through her clit and ass, pulling her from her fantasy with a muffled cry against the gag. Her body jerked violently, the bindings on her arms keeping her helplessly in place. Tears streamed down her cheeks as Amelie’s hand brushed gently through her hair.
“Poor, needy little thing,” Amelie whispered, her voice low and almost tender. “Not getting any, are you?”
The words broke Helen, and she sobbed quietly, her muffled cries filling the room as she eventually drifted back into a fitful sleep, her body trembling with unfulfilled desire.
At 6 am, the belt roused her with its cruel programming. The clit cup began its suction, paired with soft thrusting of the vaginal and anal intruders. Helen, still half-asleep, was dragged into another dream.
In this one, she was on her knees, gagged and bound as she was in reality, while Amelie sat above her, a queen demanding her every attention. Helen’s dream-self served with desperation, her tongue and lips worshiping Amelie’s body, her every movement driven by a need to please. The more she submitted, the more the dream’s version of Amelie demanded, each act igniting Helen’s arousal further.
As she was pushed to the brink of an orgasm, the belt struck again, shocking her clit and ass brutally, tearing her from the dream with a gasp and a strangled cry. Her body trembled, her thighs clamping together, the ruined climax leaving her dazed and utterly defeated.
Amelie stirred beside her, propping herself up on one elbow to observe Helen’s tear-streaked face. A wicked smile played on her lips as she ran a hand over Helen’s damp hair. “Another ruined dream, my sweet? Such a shame. But it’s exactly what you deserve, isn’t it?” Her words were laced with amusement, her tone dripping with satisfaction.
Helen could only nod weakly, her body wracked with frustration as the belt continued its low, constant tease, setting the tone for another day under Amelie’s control.
Morning routines Amelie moved with deliberate care as she prepared Helen for her next humiliation. She had her kneel down in the bathroom, and connected things to the rear of the belt. The rear dildo’s enema function activated with a soft hum, and Helen whimpered against her gag, her bound body tensing as the warm liquid began to flow. The corset’s unrelenting compression made the experience all the more unbearable, forcing her stomach to constrict as her body strained under the pressure.
Tears welled in her eyes, trickling down her flushed cheeks as she endured the enema, her thighs trembling. Gagged and helpless, Helen could do nothing but hold out, her body shivering with discomfort. When the process was finally complete, Amelie guided her to the toilet bowl, allowing her to empty herself, then cleaning her in the shower.
Returning to the bedroom, Amelie removed the gag and ropes from Helen’s arms, reattaching the thigh bands in exchange. “There we go,” she cooed, brushing Helen’s damp hair from her face. “Such a good little girl. So obedient, so pretty in your suffering. I do like that about you.”
Helen didn’t respond, her throat dry and her cheeks burning from the mix of shame and reluctant pride that came with Amelie’s praise. Amelie tipped her chin up with a finger, her smile warm but edged with wickedness. “Now, be a dear and make me breakfast. I’m hungry.”
Helen shuffled to the kitchen, her thighs pressed tightly together by the bands. Every movement was a reminder of her predicament, the inserts shifting inside her, teasing her relentlessly. Her breath came in short gasps, the corset digging into her ribs and keeping her chest heaving with the effort.
She worked diligently, preparing a lavish breakfast under Amelie’s watchful gaze. Eggs, bacon, toast, fresh fruit, and coffee—all arranged with care and precision despite the strain of her bindings. Once the meal was ready, Helen carried the tray to the table, placing it before Amelie with trembling hands.
“Perfect,” Amelie said, her tone dripping with approval as she began to eat. Helen stood silently by, awaiting further instructions.
When Amelie finished, she gestured to the floor beside her. “Kneel.”
Helen obeyed, sinking to her knees with practiced submission. She clasped her hands behind her back, her head tilted upward to look at Amelie, her lips parted slightly in anticipation. Amelie leaned down, slicing a small piece of fruit from her plate. She held it delicately before Helen’s mouth.
“Open,” Amelie ordered softly.
Helen obeyed, her tongue darting out as Amelie placed the morsel on it. She chewed slowly, savoring the taste, her eyes never leaving Amelie’s.
“Good girl,” Amelie murmured, feeding her another bite. “No speaking, now. Just listen and obey.”
The ritual continued, Helen remained silent, her body aching, her submission complete. Amelie fed her with a satisfied smile, reveling in the perfect image of Helen’s obedience.
More fun for Amelie While Helen finished cleaning up in the kitchen, Amelie retrieved ropes and the spreader bar, preparing the living room. She called Helen over, showing her where to kneel down on the sofa.
Helen didn’t resist as her elbows and wrists were secured tightly behind her back, leaving her chest pressing into the sofa cushions. The release of the thigh bands brought only a brief respite before the spreader bar was fastened between her ankles, forcing her legs wide apart. The pose left her exposed, vulnerable, her ass lifted invitingly.
Amelie smiled as she removed the anal plug, pulling it out with a deliberate slowness that made Helen squirm. The cool air against her now-empty rear was a fleeting mercy as Amelie fastened a strap-on harness around her waist, slicking the silicone phallus generously with lube.
“Perfect,” Amelie murmured, stepping behind Helen. She gripped Helen’s hips firmly, guiding the tip of the toy to her tight entrance. Helen tensed, her breath catching as Amelie pushed forward, the intrusion slow but unyielding. The penetration was deliberate, the pressure building until Helen’s body reluctantly accepted the length inside her.
Helpless and restrained, Helen could only whimper into the cushions, her face burning with humiliation. The strap-on drove deeper, each thrust purposeful, rocking her body against the sofa. The shame of her position and the relentless vulnerability sent a conflicting surge of arousal through her, her traitorous body betraying her again.
Amelie noticed the way Helen’s thighs quivered, the subtle arch of her back that signaled her rising need. “Oh, you’re enjoying this,” Amelie teased, her voice thick with amusement. “Look at you, helpless and desperate.”
Helen shook her head weakly, trying to fight the growing heat inside her, but the belt’s sensors picked up every flutter, every clench of her muscles as her arousal mounted. Amelie’s pace quickened, her thrusts striking deeper, the sound of slick movements filling the room. Helen’s breaths grew shorter, her body tensing as the unbearable edge crept closer.
“Don’t fight it, darling,” Amelie purred, slapping Helen’s ass lightly for emphasis. “You know how this ends.”
Helen’s muffled cries grew louder as the belt registered her arousal spike. Just as she teetered on the edge, desperate and trembling, the shocks came. A vicious jolt ripped through her clit and nipples, her muscles seizing as she screamed into the sofa. Amelie held her firmly, her grip unyielding as Helen shuddered beneath her, the ruined climax leaving her in a wrecked, sobbing state.
Amelie chuckled softly, pulling out and leaning over Helen’s trembling body. She stroked Helen’s sweat-dampened hair, her voice a mix of mockery and satisfaction. “Poor thing. You’ll never win, you know. You’re mine—every inch of you.”
Release By the end of the two days, Helen was unrecognizable from the self-assured woman she’d once been. Her mind was a fog of yearning, her thoughts consumed by a singular, burning need for release. Every breath, every shift of her body reminded her of the unrelenting stimulation that had kept her on edge, never allowing satisfaction. Yet, she had become conditioned—trained by the cruel pattern of denial and punishment—to shy away from the brink. The approach of an orgasm was no longer a promise of relief but a harbinger of pain, making her flinch even as her body begged to tip over the edge.
Her emotions were a fragile whirlwind of frustration, shame, and helpless arousal. Tears would come unbidden, spilling down her cheeks at the slightest hint of teasing, her sobs soft and desperate. She had become a creature of raw need, stripped of thought or will beyond the cycle of ache and avoidance, her body and mind trapped in the cruel conditioning Amelie had imposed.
When Amelie finally unlocked the chastity devices, Helen crumpled to the floor, her legs trembling, her body trembling with the sudden absence of their unyielding grip. Amelie knelt beside her, guiding her gently to her feet with hands uncharacteristically tender. “You did so well, my sweet,” Amelie whispered, her tone soothing. “Come, let me take care of you.”
In the shower, Helen stood trembling under the warm spray as Amelie carefully cleaned her, her hands gliding over Helen’s skin in a way that was both gentle and teasing. Every touch lit her up, her body responding with an almost unbearable sensitivity. Amelie’s fingers brushed against her nipples, her clit, her thighs, coaxing small gasps and trembles from Helen, who found herself teetering on the edge of release again.
“I’m here,” Amelie said softly, her voice a balm as she kissed Helen’s shoulder. “Let it come.”
But Helen couldn’t. Her body quivered, every nerve alight with pleasure, but the conditioning held her back, fear and habit locking her just short of climax. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her hands clutching at the shower wall as Amelie’s hands and lips continued their careful, teasing ministrations.
Minutes turned into what felt like eternity, the sweet agony of hovering on the brink stretching into an unbearable ache. Helen moaned softly, her head falling back, her body begging for release even as her mind resisted. “Amelie…” she whimpered, her voice raw, her need palpable.
Finally, with a combination of Amelie’s whispered reassurances, her gentle hands stroking just right, and the overwhelming build-up of arousal that could no longer be contained, Helen’s body gave in. The orgasm hit her like a wave crashing against the shore, a loud, unrestrained moan tearing from her lips as she squirted, her juices mingling with the shower’s warm spray. Her body convulsed, the ripples of pleasure rolling through her in endless waves, each crest dragging her deeper into bliss.
She clung to Amelie as the intensity overwhelmed her, her sobs mingling with her cries of pleasure. When it finally subsided, leaving her utterly spent, Helen slumped into Amelie’s arms, her head resting weakly against her chest.
Amelie turned off the shower, wrapping Helen in a soft towel and drying her with the utmost care. “Such a good girl,” she murmured, her voice warm with pride and affection. She carried Helen to the bed, laying her down gently before slipping in beside her.
Helen curled against Amelie’s body, her head resting on her chest, her breathing soft and even. Amelie stroked her damp hair, her touch soothing. “You were perfect, my darling,” she whispered. “So obedient, so beautiful. My precious, chaste girl.”
Helen sighed in her sleep, her face peaceful for the first time in days. Amelie held her close, the possessiveness in her gaze tempered by genuine care. As the night deepened, her whispered praises blended into the quiet rhythm of Helen’s dreams.
Onwards Helen stirred, her body heavy with the deep, satisfying rest she hadn’t known in days. For a blissful moment, her mind was clear, her body light, free from the weight of control and torment. But as she shifted under the covers, a familiar pressure greeted her—smooth, unyielding, and unmistakable. Her breath hitched as her hand instinctively moved to her waist, fingers tracing the contours of the chastity belt now locked firmly in place.
She sat up slowly, the realization sinking in. The controller’s small screen glowed faintly, displaying a seven-day countdown. No teasing this time, just denial. The settings were locked; the remote function disabled. The key, predictably, was nowhere in sight. Amelie had made sure of that.
A wave of emotions washed over Helen—frustration, resignation, and, surprisingly, a deep sense of satisfaction. She had given herself to this, fully and willingly. Amelie’s power over her wasn’t an imposition; it was exactly what Helen craved. The belt, with all its merciless rules and limitations, was her choice. She had made herself powerless, ensured she would need to plead, bargain, and submit if she ever wanted release.
Helen slipped out of bed, slowly, as she adjusted to the familiar restrictions of the belt. She padded to the mirror, gazing at her reflection. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks flushed with the remnants of sleep. The belt sat snugly at her waist, its presence both oppressive and comforting.
Amelie entered the room with a steaming mug of coffee, her expression warm and teasing. “Good morning, my sweet,” she said, setting the cup down on the nightstand. “I see you’ve noticed my little surprise.”
Helen nodded, her lips curving into a faint smile. “You locked me back in.”
“Of course,” Amelie replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You belong in it. And now, you’ll belong to it for another seven days. Unless, of course, you feel like earning your freedom early.”
Helen’s cheeks burned, but she didn’t look away. “You’re not giving me the key.”
Amelie laughed softly. “No, darling. You’ll never hold that key again. I’ll allow you to program it, set your time, your limits, but I will keep the key. Always.” Her voice softened, her hand reaching to tilt Helen’s chin upward. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Helen’s breath caught, her heart pounding. It was true. She needed this—the surrender, the control, the lack of escape. She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes. That’s what I want.”
Amelie’s smile deepened. “Good girl.” She pressed a kiss to Helen’s forehead, her tone shifting to a playful lilt. “Now, you’d better get dressed. I have a long list of things I need you to do today, and we wouldn’t want to waste any time, would we?”
Helen rose, her movements measured, her heart steady. The week ahead would be challenging, the denial absolute, but the knowledge that she had chosen this, that she had handed her control to Amelie, made her feel complete. She was exactly where she belonged.
Belted · Part 2 (2/2)
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