Bound To Happen - a Samantha's Shame Story
  by Delta Venus

Copyright 2010


Betsy caught me. It was bound to happen eventually, but it took
longer than I thought it would, and I enjoyed every minute I
could in the meantime. If you've been reading about me, you know
what I'm talking about, but just in case you haven't, I'll
explain. My name is Sam, short for Samantha, and I'm required to
keep a journal of all the humiliating and degrading things I am
forced to do by my older sister, Betsy. She forces me to do these
things partly because she knows that while I truly hate doing
them, I also find them terribly exciting and I really get off,
but mostly she does so because she is a sadistic bitch who enjoys
tormenting me, and she'd do it even if I didn't respond the way I
do. That it turns me on is just icing on the cake.

She recently forced me to wear a chastity belt at all times.
There were two reasons for this: first was to keep all the guys
she keeps exposing me to from fucking me, second was to make sure
I had no way of releasing my pent up sexual energies without
first asking her for permission. I hated that second reason, and
I would only make a request for relief when I really could no
longer stand the hormonal pressures. At our last event, I
accidentally discovered a way to achieve an orgasm with the damn
belt on, using the water jets in our pool, so I could cum without
having to beg her. I took full advantage of this new found
release, knowing that I would eventually get caught, and getting
caught would really suck. Luckily Betsy had become a little more
focused on her boyfriend Jack, and was ignoring me more than
usual.

When Betsy ignored me in the past, I would get very nervous,
because it almost always meant she was plotting something devious
to do to me. This time, I was still nervous, but for a different
reason. I wasn't as worried about what she might be plotting, I
was scared because I knew I'd eventually get caught and the
punishment Betsy would think up would be fucked up for sure. In
spite of that nervousness, I would rush home from school to jump
in the pool, and cum and cum again. Whenever Betsy wasn't around,
I was grinding my pussy against that strong blast of water, and
experiencing the intense pleasures it gave me. The relief after
being denied so frequently was incredible! I was very careful to
request to be released from the belt so I could masturbate about
as often as I had before, even though that usually meant I had to
put on a show for her and Jack. She denied me frequently, which
was actually what I wanted now.

Betsy finally came home when I wasn't expecting her. I was
getting pounded by the pulse, and pulsing heavily myself, when I
got caught.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing!? GODDAMMIT!!" Betsy
screamed at the top of her lungs. I knew I was in for it. Her
face was bright red with rage, and she was shaking she was so
pissed off. This was really going to be bad! Suddenly her face
turned to stone, and she calmly, evenly said "You are going to be
punished for that, you will regret not following my orders," and
turned and walked away. The cold, even tone of voice scared me
much more than the screaming had.

Betsy let me stew for two weeks, before she even spoke about it
again. I lived in constant fear of what was going to happen, and
that was probably part of the punishment. It worked, too. She
made sure I was never alone to use the pool, but she didn't need
to because I didn't even think about the jets again. When she
finally did say something, it was short and to the point: "Your
punishment will take place this weekend." Not a word about what
it might be, which did nothing to alleviate my nerves. I was
practically shitting bricks.

That weekend, our parents were out of town again, at yet another
of the charity functions they seem to constantly attend, and
Betsy held a party. I was to be a major element of both
decoration and entertainment for the event. My new boyfriend
Paul, Betsy's choice not mine, was allowed to attend and help
out. As usual, she really went all out to embarrass and humiliate
me.

I don't know where she got it, but set up in our den was
something straight out of a gynecologists office, a metal
examination table complete with stirrups. Laying on top of the
table was an assortment of hardcore bondage gear. Several leather
cuff-style restraints, a wiffle ball looking plastic gag with
straps, a leather hood, a butt plug, and an assortment of small
locks. Betsy had me strip naked, except for the chastity belt.
Then she showed me the butt plug, completely made of metal, with
a small ring at the very base. She made me lick it to get it nice
and slick, undid one of the clasps of the chastity belt, slid the
cable through the ring at the base so that the plug couldn't be
removed if the belt was fastened, and shoved the cold metal
roughly into my ass. I was glad I slobbered on it as much as I
had, or it would have been really painful going in. As it was, it
wasn't real comfortable, but then having things shoved up your
ass usually isn't.

She redid the clasp on the belt, and checked to make sure
everything was nice and snug. It was. The plastic cup pressed
against my mound and slit, and was held there tightly enough that
you couldn't get a finger underneath. Business as usual, except
now my backdoor was also closed and locked tight.

"Now I don't have to keep an eye on you to make sure the guys
don't stuff your ass full of cock, or God knows what else..." Her
laughter had a wicked quality to it.

At Betsy's order, I got up on the examination table, which was
also quite cold, and made me shiver. I think the shivers weren't
just from the cold, this thing would make any woman nervous, even
in its normal setting. My legs were fastened to the stirrups with
leather cuffs and secured by some of the small locks. She cranked
the stirrups up so my knees were bent, and then apart so that my
legs were held up high and spread wide. I could wiggle a little
bit by flexing my knees, but I couldn't rotate my legs or move
them in any other direction at all, so I was going to stay spread
open no matter what. Except for the belt cup tightly covering my
pussy, and the plug sealing my anus, I was very exposed and
totally vulnerable.

The ball gag was next, inserted into my mouth and forcing it wide
open, the straps fastened tightly at the back of my head, and
also secured with a lock. Then Betsy pulled the leather bondage
hood over my head, completely covering my head and face just past
my nose, making it so I couldn't see a thing. I heard the click
of another lock as she secured the hood so it couldn't be
removed. Once she had me all laid out, and going nowhere, she
began to explain to Paul what his duties for the evening would
be.

"You are going to watch over her, Paul. Stand guard. Here's a
little remote, if there is trouble, you press that button and two
of my football player buddies will be in here instantly to sort
it out. Now, what I mean by trouble is this and only this: if
anyone tries to remove the chastity belt, the plug, or the hood,
or if they are going to cause Sam permanent harm. I do mean
*permanent* harm. I don't want anyone burning her with
cigarettes, or cutting her, or tattooing her, or anything like
that. Anything short of that does not count as permanent harm,
and if you press the button for anything less, I'll remove that
belt myself and you can watch Sam get gang banged. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. My friends should start showing up any time. Keep an eye
on her, you are her only protection this evening. You can play
around with her yourself, if you want, but don't interfere with
anyone else unless they are violating the rules."

I heard Betsy walk out, and Paul whispered in my ear "Don't
worry, I'll keep you safe."

Being so exposed and vulnerable, and not able to see what was
happening, was more than a little frightening. The lecture she
had just given Paul didn't help in the least. What the fuck was
Betsy expecting her guests to do to me? It was also very
embarrassing. I knew Paul had see it all before, even more than
now because he had seen me without the protective covering of the
chastity belt, but I still felt humiliated at being exposed to
him like this. What must he think of me for letting my sister do
things like this? I knew that it wouldn't be long before lots of
other people saw me, too, and I was already blushing at the
thought, and that embarrassment was having its usual effect on
me, and my pussy was quite wet.

I lost track of time in my sightless, tightly restricted world. I
heard some guests start to arrive, and the usual party noises,
clinking glasses, endless chatter. Finally I was brought out of
my daydreaming state by the first person to come into the den.

"Why, what do we have here? Kinky! She's sort of cute, too,
although she could be a real dog under that mask. A sexy dog,
though. Hey, Brad, come in here and check this shit out!"

I heard the guy walk out, and then the footsteps of many people
coming into the room. More than a few guests must have been
curious to see what Brad was supposed to come check out. The
comments started flying. I couldn't make them all out, lots of
degrading terms, descriptions of my anatomy, musings about my
sexual habits, curiosity about what lay under the hood, or under
the belt. At least so far, no one was touching me, they were just
talking shit, and looking. I couldn't see them, but I could feel
their eyes on me anyways. It was quite humiliating to hear a lot
of what was said, but at least I wasn't being outright molested.
Yet. I knew again that it was bound to happen, which was why I
was bound - so it could happen. Betsy wouldn't have taken the
precaution of plugging my ass if she didn't think someone would
try to penetrate it.

The novelty of a bound, helpless, naked girl wore off and some of
the crowd got bored of looking, and wandered away to other parts
of the house, or to freshen their drinks. No one was loose enough
yet to start playing with me, but the degrading talk continued,
and the anticipation of what would happen next was overwhelming.
I squirmed and wiggled with pent up energy, and my pussy was
flowing like a leaky faucet. It was my juices obviously dripping
from under the cup of the chastity belt that finally broke the
ice.

"Look at that, the slut is so horny she can't hold still, and her
cunt is creaming!"

"God, I'd love to fuck a hot young thing like that. I guess
that's why the belt is on her, huh? Still, nothing says we can't
help her out a little..."

Pressure right on the plastic cup covering my dripping hole,
pushing it tight against my lips. The person pressing on it
started vibrating their hand, sending tremors through my whole
body. I knew this wouldn't be enough to get me off, although it
was very stimulating, but they didn't know I couldn't cum without
something more direct, and they sure gave it a go. I would have
been thrusting against this pressing hand, involuntarily, except
I was trussed to the table too securely to move like that. It was
driving me crazy! Just enough stimulation to really push my
buttons, but not enough to take me over the edge to relief. The
rubbing pressure stopped, and I felt probing at the edges of the
belt, trying to get underneath the cup. If I couldn't get my
dainty fingers under there, these big, rough digits certainly
weren't going to fit, although at that point I really wished they
would!

They gave up, laughing, and I heard the two of them wander off
for more beer. Just then, I heard a nasty hissing in my ear, a
girl was giving me a piece of her mind!

"You fucking bitch," she sputtered in a low, horrible tone of
voice. "I will get even with you! My boyfriend has been bugging
me to let him tie me up, and now that he has seen your slutty
body all trussed up on display, I'll never hear then end of it.
I'll have to do some of the nasty shit he wants, or break up with
him. Bitch!" She pinched my nipple, hard! Giving it a nasty
twist, without letting go until she couldn't hold on any longer.
I thought she was going to rip it off! I tried to scream, but the
ball gag kept it muffled into a moaning mourn. "Shit, you like
this stuff, slutty cunt!" She spit right in my face, then slapped
it, and it really hurt! Luckily the heavy leather of the hood cut
the sting of the blow, but she had really put some energy into
it. I could feel her spit running down my chin, and dribbling
through the holes in the ball gag, but there wasn't anything I
could do about it.

Then I was alone, for who knows how long, and I wondered if Paul
was still there watching over me. I was scared. The fright didn't
do anything to diminish how turned on I was, and neither had the
harsh treatment from the girl with the bondage craving boyfriend.
Being turned on didn't do anything to lessen my fear, either.
Worried sick, and horny as a mink, what a combination of
feelings! My head was reeling, and the only thing I was sure of
was that I would never again do anything other than what Betsy
told me to do. I was broken, and the evening was still young.

As the guests began to get buzzed and loose, the action began to
pick up. I was poked, pinched, and fondled by both guys and
girls. I had to listen to them all talking about what a stupid
bitch, nasty whore, and slutty cunt I was. Sometimes I was
addressed directly, and told in no uncertain terms what I should
have done to me. I should be spanked, whipped, forced to suck
cock, lick pussy, get fucked in my pussy and my ass, swallow cum,
and all sorts of other nasty things. The rest of the time they
talked as if I wasn't there, a low, base creature to be chatted
about at their whim, unworthy of direct attention, other than the
wandering hands that now never seemed to stop.

Some guy, who knows who because I was still hooded and in the
dark, finally got up the gumption to take things to a higher
level. I heard his zipper go down, so it wasn't a total shock
when I felt the silky skin of a hard cock rubbing against my
smooth inner thigh. While he was rubbing off his raging hard on,
someone else started sucking and nibbling on my nipples. I hope
the guy enjoying the direct contact with my skin didn't have a
lover to satisfy, because he sure didn't last very long, and I
felt hot jets of semen gushing from the head of his cock to run
and drip down my thigh. It was only the first load of cum I would
feel on my skin that night, and he had been much more considerate
than those who would follow about where he shot it.

Laughter. All the laughter. The nasty words were bad, and stung
my ego, but the constant laughing was like a spike driven
straight into my soul. Not only was I a filthy, disgusting slut,
but I was a fucking joke to these people. A plaything for their
amusement, a toy to be enjoyed and tossed away without concern.
Trash. Of all the things Betsy had done to me, this had me
feeling the lowest. Worst of all, the sublimely stinging
humiliation seemed to bypass my brain entirely, and sent
shockingly strong signals throughout my body.

In spite of not being able to get enough direct stimulation
because of the tight plastic cup over my pussy, I was at the very
edge of orgasm. I stayed right at the peak of pleasure, almost
cumming, for most of the rest of the night. My excitement was
obvious to one and all, and they took it as a further sign of
what a total slut I was, clearly enjoying every disgusting thing
they did to me. My brain was screaming "No! I'm not like this, I
hate this, stop it. Stop it! STOP IT!" but my body refused to
listen, betraying me utterly and completely. What could it be but
my true nature pushing through? I was crying under the hood, but
the shakes that I had weren't from sobbing, they were from the
hyper stimulation of my senses. I felt like my entire nervous
system was just going to burn out, and part of me wanted it to.

It got worse, before it got better. Some bitch got the idea
first, and I felt something smooth and waxy rubbing on my belly.
It took me a minute, but I finally figured out she was writing on
me with her lipstick. Other lipsticks and mascara brushes, which
were really rough, soon followed. I was covered with writings and
crude drawings, and none of it was nice. Guys took pleasure in
reading them or describing the drawings aloud. Look, there's an
arrow point to her cunt, and it says "Insert dicks here", "shoot
your cum in here", "slutty whore, use the back door". I began to
receive more sticky loads of cum, too, coating me with slime, and
smearing the artwork. The ball gag soon was leaking a constant
stream of acrid man juice into my mouth, and I was glad the hood
kept my nose covered, so I could breathe without gagging.

I thought I might get a reprieved when some asshole was going to
burn me with a cigarette. That was across the line, and Betsy was
sure to end this nightmare. I didn't quite realize what was
happening, until I heard Paul gasp, and then what the jerk had
been saying finally sunk through. He wanted his initials on me, a
permanent or at least long lasting, scar. Paul told me later he
was about to press the panic button, but some other guy took
offense before he could, and a fight erupted between this good
Samaritan and the asshole smoker. One of the football players
broke up the fight - by breaking up the two of them, and tossing
their asses out of the house in damaged condition. My captivity
and degradation by the guests continued, the party went on, and I
zoned out in a haze of shameful sexual excitation, swept away by
strong emotion and physical sensation.

Most everyone had left, and things were winding down, when I
suffered my final humiliation. Left alone for a few moments, I
had swallowed most of the sticky seed dripping through the ball
gag, and managed to catch my breath. I was still peaking with
sexual excitement, my nerves twanging, my muscles jumping and
twitching. I heard the then familiar sound of a zipper going
down, and settled myself for some more dick rubbing and a cum
shot to be delivered who knows where. I was wrong.

The sensation was like a bolt of lightning up my spine! A hot,
direct pressure almost straight to my throbbing clit. I freaked
out, and started a strong series of multiple orgasms, all at the
same time. He was peeing on me! The stream was going right
through the tiny slit in the chastity device, and nailing me
right in the most sensitive area, just like I'd been doing with
the pool jets that got me into this mess in the first place. I
was floored! I couldn't believe he could be so crude. It was
sick, disgusting, yet the steamy pressure was too fucking much
for me to hold back, even though I really wanted to. I couldn't
cum with some guy pissing on me! I couldn't not cum with some guy
pissing on me! The total shock of this ultimate degradation and
the physical sensations of pleasure happening all at the same
time was the total overload I had been scared of, yet craving,
earlier. I was shaking like an epileptic in an earthquake as I
experienced the most intense sexual moment of my life with the
heat of intense shame flushing my head and the hot pee gushing
against my clit. Then I passed out.

When I woke up, I was unbound, and Paul was cradling me and
crooning softly, some nonsense meant to be soothing. It was. He
hadn't been my choice for a boyfriend, Betsy had chosen him for
me, but I realized right then that I loved him. I looked up, and
there was my bitch sister Betsy, looking at us. She almost looked
sorry for the ordeal she had put me through. Almost. I was a
total mess, the nasty writing smeared and runny from sweat, all
the semen that had been shot onto me, and the piss, too. My hair
was matted, I had minor bruises all over, red finger marks, and
scratches. I felt like butter left out on a hot desert sidewalk,
just melted away, with no form or substance.

"Take her upstairs, Paul, and get her cleaned up and into bed.
Sam, don't ever cross me again, or I'll do something to you that
will make this night seem tame. I'm sorry you forced me to do
this."

That was the closest she ever came to an apology. It wouldn't
stop her from continuing to torment me, though. There was more to
cum, for sure.

     DV

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