Page 164 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

“Yes, Master.”

You hook your finger into the waist of the chastity belt and pull me towards you.

“And this… This is what happens when you can’t control yourself. I will do it for you. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. You will wear the belt tomorrow at work and when you come home you will strip and get on your knees and think about what you are going to say to me. I want to hear you beg me for your punishment. I'm going to give you ten strokes of the cane and you will count them and thank me for every last one of them. And if your begging is good enough, I may consider letting you come. We'll see. Now go and clean yourself up and go to bed.”

I lie in bed, my clit burning to be touched. I explore the unfamiliar metal of the chastity belt, running my fingers over the metal between my legs, which has already warmed to match the heat of my skin. I test the edges of the belt, trying to see if there is any way I could touch myself, not because I would dare to disobey you, not now, but because I need to feel that I am under your control. I need to feel that there is nothing I can do, even though knowing that makes this worse. I am excited by your dominance of me. I am more aroused than I have ever been and there really is nothing I can do about it. If ever I felt like your slave, it is now.

I don’t know how long I lie there, body buzzing, clit aching; going over in my mind all those things you did and said tonight.

Eventually I hear your footsteps coming up the stairs and then your weight on the bed as you climb under the covers. “Still awake?”

“Yes, Sir.”

You put your arm around me and draw me close, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “Is that poor little clit begging to be touched?”

“Yes, Sir. Oh, Sir, it burns. I can’t stand it.”

“Should have thought of that before. Good night.”

You turn over and settle onto your pillows. A short while later I hear your breathing change and know that you are sleep.

I sleep fitfully, waking up throughout the night; mind still sorting over the evening’s events. This is hard. I knew that not all of this would be easy when we started this journey together, but I don’t think I was prepared for this. My body really is not mine anymore. I can ask and beg and plead all I like but the final decision on what happens is yours. It always was, I know, but this really brings it home to me.

All too soon, the alarm clock wakes me from what little sleep I have had. I groan, as the night’s memories flood back and I realise my predicament all over again. My hand drifts down to the belt between my legs, almost as if I think I have dreamt it and need to see if it has disappeared over night. No such luck. I am still firmly locked up and I stifle a groan as the aching need to come blazes from my clit again. This is going to be a long day.

You turn over and reach for me. “Good morning, slave.”

“Good morning, Master.”

You circle my nipples lightly with your fingers and then pinch them hard, and I arch my back in an equal mix of pain, pleasure, and frustration.

“Whose is this body, slave?”

“Yours, Master.”

“That’s right. Now, I’m going to release this belt while you visit the bathroom and shower. You will touch yourself only to do what you need to do. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Off you go then.”

I am in the shower and don’t hear the door open. You pull the shower curtain swiftly aside, exposing me to your gaze. This shouldn’t matter. It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before, but this is the first time you have done this and there is something different about it, as if our relationship has stepped up another level and I have lost the right to any privacy.

“Being a good girl?” You ask.

“Yes, Sir.”

“I should think so.”

You slip a finger between my legs and tease my already aching clit. “Well, well, aren’t we wet? Whatever could have caused that?” You continue to explore, slipping two fingers inside me. “Perhaps it’s the fact that you know you’ve got hours and hours to get through today before there’s even the slightest possibility that you’ll be allowed to come. Does this poor little clit burn, sweetheart? Does it ache?”

“Ohh, Sir. Yes. Please, Sir.”

“Do you want to come?”

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