She had never been in denial, never given control of any part of herself to another. She was a dom. She was the one that was always imposed her will on others, shaped the destiny of those around her.
But the belt did not care who she was. It did care about the strength of her will or the focus and intensity of her psyche, her ability to bend others to her whim. To it, she was just another piece of woman flesh. Flesh that its impersonal and indomitable programming knew just how to manipulate and control...
The first sensations emanating from the belt as it began her first teasing session were intriguing. She had pleasured herself with many mechanical aids, and this belt seemed a wonder of the art. It brought her slowly, inexorably to the very pinnacle of desire. And held her there. She had held herself at the crest for several moments at a time in the past to enhance her final pleasure, but the belt drew out this exquisite cusp for an agonizing eternity. It would not stop or send her over the crest. Finally, unwilling to wait any longer for her fulfillment, she slid her fingers toward the smooth steel to give herself the push she needed.
But she could not.
In desperation, she tried everything, but no amount of cleverness or brute force could penetrate the uncaring steel's embrace.
Eventually she collapsed, her body incapable of taking any more.
Three months later, and she had forgotten her former life.
Her new master had become her world. He controlled the belt, and through it, her.
It was his will, his whim, that brought her release from the endless teasing torment.
Under his expert control, the belt became an even more perfectly tuned instrument. He could leave her simmering just capable of thought and action, or paralyze her with world-filling need, or leave her hanging anywhere in between that he desired.
He had used his control to mold her mind. He cared nothing for the strength of her will or her intelligence. He bypassed all her self-control, utilized the belt to create pure Pavlovian responses. Her own instincts betrayed her until she obeyed without thought or reason or hesitation.
Somewhere inside the depths of her skull, her old self screamed and thrashed against the bonds of never ending need.
But the rest of her floated above, quivering, adrift in an unrequited ocean of desire. No thought beyond pleasing the master around her waist, and the one who controlled it.
Just posting to identify my old posts. I can't register freely to post under my own pseudonym at this time, so I will cheat a bit and label my contributions with "Anon" for now. :)
She had never been in denial, never given control of any part of herself to another. She was a dom. She was the one that was always imposed her will on others, shaped the destiny of those around her.
ReplyDeleteBut the belt did not care who she was. It did care about the strength of her will or the focus and intensity of her psyche, her ability to bend others to her whim. To it, she was just another piece of woman flesh. Flesh that its impersonal and indomitable programming knew just how to manipulate and control...
The first sensations emanating from the belt as it began her first teasing session were intriguing. She had pleasured herself with many mechanical aids, and this belt seemed a wonder of the art. It brought her slowly, inexorably to the very pinnacle of desire. And held her there. She had held herself at the crest for several moments at a time in the past to enhance her final pleasure, but the belt drew out this exquisite cusp for an agonizing eternity. It would not stop or send her over the crest. Finally, unwilling to wait any longer for her fulfillment, she slid her fingers toward the smooth steel to give herself the push she needed.
But she could not.
In desperation, she tried everything, but no amount of cleverness or brute force could penetrate the uncaring steel's embrace.
Eventually she collapsed, her body incapable of taking any more.
And that was her first night of edging.
~~~~~~~~~
Three months later, and she had forgotten her former life.
DeleteHer new master had become her world. He controlled the belt, and through it, her.
It was his will, his whim, that brought her release from the endless teasing torment.
Under his expert control, the belt became an even more perfectly tuned instrument. He could leave her simmering just capable of thought and action, or paralyze her with world-filling need, or leave her hanging anywhere in between that he desired.
He had used his control to mold her mind. He cared nothing for the strength of her will or her intelligence. He bypassed all her self-control, utilized the belt to create pure Pavlovian responses. Her own instincts betrayed her until she obeyed without thought or reason or hesitation.
Somewhere inside the depths of her skull, her old self screamed and thrashed against the bonds of never ending need.
But the rest of her floated above, quivering, adrift in an unrequited ocean of desire. No thought beyond pleasing the master around her waist, and the one who controlled it.
Anon -
ReplyDeleteJust posting to identify my old posts. I can't register freely to post under my own pseudonym at this time, so I will cheat a bit and label my contributions with "Anon" for now. :)