Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“Dreams?” I whispered, horrified at the thought that even my unconscious mind would be monitored.
“The belt can detect the physical responses associated with erotic dreams,” he said matter-of-factly. “Increased blood flow, involuntary muscle contractions. If you have a particularly intense dream, I’ll receive a notification.”
I pressed my thighs together, feeling the strange pressure of the leather between them. It was wide enough that I couldn’t get any friction where I needed it most, but the constant presence against my sensitive flesh was its own kind of torment.
“There’s also a punishment feature,” Scott continued, and my tummy flipped. “If you attempt to remove the belt or stimulate yourself through it, it can deliver a corrective shock. Nothing dangerous, but quite unpleasant. Would you like a demonstration?”
“No!” The word burst out before I could stop it, and I immediately added, “No, sir. I believe you.”
He smiled at my panic. “Smart girl. The shock is calibrated to your individual sensitivity levels—another benefit of all that monitoring data Selecta has collected on you.”
He moved to stand directly in front of me, his eyes holding mine with that intensity that made my insides melt. “You’ll wear this until our meeting next Tuesday. Four days of complete denial, Grace. Four days of watching Leah’s story without any possibility of relief. You will ask me for permission to relieve yourself—and you will remember that your perineal sensor will alert me to any attempts at rule-breaking, even when you’re not in your belt. You will not wear any panties, of course.”
My breathing had become shallow, rapid. Four days? How could I possibly endure that? Even now, minutes after he’d fucked me so thoroughly, I could feel arousal building again just from his proximity, from the weight of his gaze.
“What if I… what if I can’t stand it?” I asked, my voice small.
“Then you’ll learn to stand it,” he said simply. “This is part of your training, Grace. Learning that your pleasure belongs to your superior. That your body’s responses are mine to control, to allow or deny as I see fit.”
He reached out and smoothed my dress back down over the belt. From the outside, you could barely tell I was wearing it—only a well-trained eye would suspect, I felt certain. On the other hand, I had no doubt that there were many such well-trained eyes at Selecta, and the thought made me swallow hard.
When I got home at last after a day of trying to concentrate on anything but the humiliating belt around my waist and between my thighs, I collapsed onto my sofa, every movement reminding me of the leather pressing against my most intimate places. The apartment’s familiar surroundings felt alien now, as if the belt had transformed not just my body, but my entire world.
My handheld buzzed with a message, and my heart leaped thinking it might be Scott. But it was just the refrigerator system reminding me I’d only consumed 743 calories today. Food was the last thing on my mind. How could I think about eating when every shift of my hips made the belt press against my swollen, needy flesh?
A sudden, urgent pressure in my bladder made me shift uncomfortably on the sofa. Oh no. I had managed to push away this most basic necessity since Scott had locked the belt on me. Could I actually bear to ask to use the bathroom?
With burning cheeks, I picked up my handheld and typed out a message, each word making my face grow hotter: Sir, I need to use the bathroom. Please.
The response came almost immediately: Of course. Give me a moment.
I heard a soft beep from the belt, and the electronic lock disengaged with a quiet click. Then another message appeared: Take off everything except your garter belt and stockings. I’ll be watching to ensure you follow instructions properly.
I felt dizzy. Of course he’d be watching. The cameras in my bathroom were supposedly for ‘safety,’ but we both knew better. With trembling fingers, I stood and made my way to the bedroom, pulling my white dress over my head and hanging it carefully in the closet. With a rush of heat to my cheeks, I unclasped my bra and put it away in the lingerie drawer.
The belt felt even heavier now that I could remove it. I unfastened the clasps with shaking hands, gasping as the leather came away from my sensitive flesh. The cool air against my newly exposed pussy made me shudder, and I couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped as the pressure released.
I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror and froze. The image reflected back at me was obscene—the white garter belt framing my bare pussy and bottom, the stockings making my legs look long and somehow available, as if the translucent fabric were some kind of gift-wrap. My breasts were bare, nipples hard from arousal that never seemed to fully subside anymore. I looked like something from one of those videos I’d been analyzing, like a woman made for sex and submission.