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.


        ▲♀

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