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From: Delta Venus <delta_venus_x@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Sam Takes A Belt by Delta Venus
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Date: Fri, 17 Apr 2009 10:10:02 -0400
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Sam Takes A Belt - a Samantha's Shame Story
 by Delta Venus

Copyright 2009



If you've been reading these journal entries, you already know my name
is Samantha, or Sam for short. If you haven't been reading them, now
you know. I am being forced to write them by my bitch sister, Betsy,
who pretty much controls everything I do now. The last thing she had
me do was play hostess and then stripper for a football player frat
party, on my sixteenth birthday no less (see "Birthday Bash"). At the
end of that night I had decided that all the exposure and embarassment
wasn't enough, well it was too much, but I liked it anyways, and now I
wanted to give up my virginity and get fucked. After I got home from
school on the following Monday, Betsy called me up to her room.


"I sense a change in you, slut. I think you want a dick now. You've
always wanted to stay a 'good girl', and remain a virgin, but now I
think you want to get laid. Am I right? Do you want to get fucked?"


"Yes," I bashfully answered. Why deny it? "I do want to get fucked."


"OK, Sam, you slut. We'll have to see about that."


She waved me away, and I left and went to my own room to change into
after school clothes. She was leaving me alone, again, which usually
meant she was up to something. This time it didn't worry me so much,
because I did really want something to happen. I didn't want it, but I
did. I have a love-hate thing going with all the stuff Betsy makes me
do. I don't like it, but I do like it. It embarasses me, which makes
me horny. I don't like being horny, which embarasses me. It is a
viscious loop, and I hate what it does to me, except that I love what
it does to me. If I didn't get horny, it wouldn't be so embarassing.
If it wasn't so embarassing, it wouldn't make me horny. I don't know
why I respond to humiliation the way I do, but I do respond -
intensely. I hate it. I feel betrayed by my body. I love it. I feel so
alive when it happens. Obviously I am one very confused slut! This
time around, I figured whatever Betsy would do to me would lead to my
getting laid, and I wanted to get laid. How wrong I was!


About a week later, Betsy showed up home late from school, with a boy
in tow. I knew the guy, his name was Paul, and we had a couple of
classes together. I knew he liked me, and I liked him a little, but
had been too shy to say anything to him, especially with the stuff
Betsy was regularly making me do. I got a little nervous. Why had she
brought him home? What was going to happen? What would she make me do,
and would she make me do it in front of Paul? Oh, God!


"Come upstairs, slut. We'll go to your room this time."


She practically dragged Paul up the stairs and into my room, and I
trailed along obediently, wondering just how deep the shit I was going
to be in would be.


"Stand over there, Sam. OK, Paul, time for the truth to come out!" She
forced him to kneel in front of me. "Paul, do you like Sam?"


"Uh, yes." he whispered.


"Speak up you little bitch!" she pinched one of his ears.


"Ow! Yes, yes! I like Sam!"


"Do you -really- like her, Paul? Really?"


"Yes, I really like her. I think she is great."


"I thought so. Would you still like her if you found out she was a
slut?"


"What?!"


"I said would you like her if she was a total fucking slut? She is,
you know. Tell him, Sam. Tell him you are a fucking slut."


Oh, shit! I didn't want to tell Paul that, but I couldn't refuse
Betsy's request, or she'd be pissed. I never want to deal with a
pissed off Betsy, she is a scary bitch when she is mad.


"Yes, Betsy, I am a total fucking slut. You know that!"


"OK, Paul, you heard her. Still in love with the silly little twat?"


Paul hesitated only for a moment before blurting out "Yes, yes I still
love her, and I do love her! I don't care if she is a slut..."


I was shocked. I had no idea Paul had such strong feelings for me. I
felt bad that Betsy was treating him like this. It felt good to have
someone say they loved me, and that they didn't care that I was a
slut. My liking Paul kicked up a notch, I could honestly say I was
very fond of him, although I wasn't in love with him.


"OK. I think you make a cute couple, so you two are going to be
boyfriend and girlfriend from now on."


What the fuck! Well, here it comes I figured. I didn't like the idea
of getting paired off like this, I sort of wanted to fall into love
all by myself, but Paul was cute, and this certainly meant I was going
to get laid now. Betsy was sure to have us fucking around for her
enjoyment before too long. Again, how wrong I was!


"OK, Paul. Just so you know, this silly slut is still a virgin. She's
a slut, but she hasn't been fucked. You are going to find out just how
much of a slut she is, after all you are her boyfriend. However, you
aren't going to fuck her, and she isn't going to fuck you. In fact,
she is going to stay a virgin until she is eighteen, and you are going
to help with that! Take off your clothes, Sam, and let Paul see your
slutty body. Now!"


I was confused. We weren't going to fuck? Why was she making me get
naked?


"Now, Sam!"


I pulled my blouse off over my head. I wasn't wearing a bra, as usual,
since I really don't quite need one yet. I pulled down my skirt and
stepped out of it, leaving me just in panties. Those came down and
off, too, and I was bare-assed in front of my bitch sister and my
newly proclaimed boyfriend. Betsy pulled something that looked like a
bikini bottom, except mostly string, out of her dresser. She also
pulled out a measuring tape. Paul was still kneeling in front of me,
and his eyes were about to pop out of his head! He couldn't get enough
of my naked body, scanning me from head to toe. He was staring without
blinking, as if he were to blink I would disappear or something. Betsy
took the tape measure, and measured around my waist, then made me
spread my legs and measured from my crotch to my waist, and from my
crotch up between my butt cheeks to the small of my back. Then she
took a pair of scissors, measured the strings on the bikini thing, and
cut a few loose ends.


"OK, Paul. Before we put this on her, and you'll be doing that, I
think you should see what you won't be getting to play with. On the
bed, slut! Spread your legs and let Paul get a good look at your
pussy."


I got on the bed as directed, and spread my legs. I was terribly
embarassed to do this. I had done it for Betsy's boyfriend Jack in the
past, but this was a new pair of eyes, and even with Jack I had felt
degraded and humiliated opening myself up like that. Paul was
transfixed. You'd have thought he was looking at a pile of solid gold,
or a stack of hundred dollar bills. He was just short of drooling, and
obviously couldn't believe his luck. Here Betsy had made him my
boyfriend, and now he was getting to see me naked and exposed. I was
blushing hard, my face lit up like a pink lightbulb, my nipples were
perking up rigid and swollen, my pussy was exposed between my wide
spread legs, and my clit was swelling and peeking out from between my
lower lips, forcing a little pink to show. This was much better than
any old porn magazine for Paul, because he loved me, and I was very
real, and right there in front of him. He made a move to touch me, and
Betsy slapped his hand.


"None of that now! You'll get to touch her all you want later, but it
won't do you any good!" She laughed.


"Touch yourself, Sam. Let him see it all, spread your lips, dip a
finger in your juices, show him what a fucking slut you are, just like
you've done for Jack and me."


I couldn't hold back now. I was terribly embarassed, so I was terribly
horned up, too. I spread my lips slowly. I ran a finger up in between
them, across my slutty slot. I held it up, dripping with my juices,
then I pushed it inside and began to masturbate, rubbing my clit with
one hand, while I slid the finger from my other in and out of my hot
hole. Paul couldn't hold off, either. He had his cock out and in his
hand in record time, and matched his strokes to the speed of my finger
sliding in and out, slow at first, then building in speed. We both
came simultaneously, my arching back thrusting my pussy closer to his
gaze, and his jerking spasms responding to my closeness. Betsy caught
his cum in her hand, and made him lick her fingers clean.


"OK, Paul, get your pants on. Enjoy a last look, because you won't be
seeing that any time soon - at least not without my permission..."
Betsy giggled. "Now, Sam, stand up so Paul can put this belt on you.
Paul, put it on her. That end goes around the back, that strap goes
there, yes, that's the ticket!"


The bikini, belt, what-have-you was made of cables encased in plastic,
like a bicycle lock, not strings like I had first thought. It had a
hard plastic cup with a slit in the middle, and as Paul put it on me,
the cup firmly covered my pussy and lower mound. Oh, fuck! I figured
out what the hell it was, just as one of the clasps clicked into place
firmly. A chastity belt! The cables, after Betsy had trimmed them,
held the plastic cup very tightly over my pussy. There were two
combination locks at the top side ends, clicking into the cables that
went up my crack in the back, tightly around my waist, and down the
sides of my mound. A small 'Y' in the cable at the bottom would let me
take a crap, and I could pee through the tight slit in the cup, but my
pussy was now tightly encased, and not going to be seen or touched by
anyone until the combinations were entered!


"OK, Paul. You may now touch Sam anywhere and anytime you want to. Be
warned she will find it very frustrating to get all hot and bothered
and not be able to get any release, so don't tease her too much. Sam,
Paul is your boyfriend, so you'd better let him do whatever he wants,
if I hear you aren't acting like his girlfriend, I'll kick the shit
out of you, and forget the combinations to those locks. I'm the only
one who does know the combos, and if you try and cut that thing off,
you'll probably cut yourself, and if you don't get hurt tyring I will
make you wish you had! If things get too intense, or you just feel
horny, you can come to me and ask to have it removed so you can
masturbate, but you have to have Paul there, too. You aren't getting
fucked until you turn eighteen, I'll let you take it off on your
birthday in two years, until then your pussy belongs to me. I'll let
Paul see it now and then, to remind him of what he'll be getting in
two years, if he wants to stick around a slut like you for that long
without getting laid, but you aren't going to be feeling his cock
inside you any time before then!" Betsy exploded with laughter
suitable for a mad scientist. "Go ahead and cop a feel of her tits,
then get her dressed and get the fuck out of my face!"


Paul did give me a quick feel, and it shot tingles right down into my
clit, which was still tender, and felt like it would stay that way
from being pressed against the hard plastic. I got dressed, and I was
still mildly aroused from the device pressing into my puss, and I
stayed that way the rest of the day. Paul left shortly after that,
whispering in my ear "I do really love you. I won't give up on you, no
matter what Betsy does." He pressed his hand against the plastic just
before he went out the door, which further lit my fires. I soon
learned that I was doomed to always be at least mildly turned on,
because of the pressure the plastic cup put on my mound and clit. It
was like someone was cupping and rubbing my pussy all day long!


Damn, I thought I was going to get laid, but instead I was going to be
constantly teased. I would have to see if Paul could make me cum with
the device in place, or invite him over pretty regularly to beg Betsy
to take it off and let me masturbate for him, although knowing Betsy
she wasn't going to let that happen too often, she enjoyed teasing the
hell out of me too much.


Now I had a boyfriend, but Betsy controlled him, too, and we were both
at her mercy - and she had none.


        DV

http://www.geocities.com/delta_venus_x/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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