Monday, 8 September 2014

Caption 481: E.L.F.

E.L.F: Eternally Locked Females


  1. [Longtime lurker here. I couldn't help but wonder what the "most devious, difficult and and endlessly frustrating programming" of a TTcB might mean, given everything the belt can do. I decided to use my imagination. This is what I came up with. It ended up being long enough I have to post it in multiple comments :-D ]

    The E.L.F. site did, of course, provide a mailing address for her absentee master. Unfortunately it was a P.O. box in a foreign country that was registered to a company whose ownership was obscured in reams of legal paperwork and completely impossible to trace. That didn't stop her from trying to contact him.

    Her first letter, which she wrote just a few days after he took control, was friendly. She thanked him for fulfilling her desire to be denied and suggested they should meet so she could thank him properly. Wouldn't he appreciate being pleasured by his new toy and coming to see in person just how effective his programming was?

    Just as that single first email hinted, there was no reply.

    The tone of her letters soon changed, as the merciless teasing and edging started to take their toll. While the intensity of her Friday and Saturday nights was truly overwhelming, the weekday morning routine was insidious and slowly ate away at her sanity. Her belt was programmed to be her alarm clock. A slow, gentle tease began at 5:30 A.M. every weekday morning culminating in two consecutive edgings. As her master's email had explained "The first one is just to wake you up, the second to put you in the right frame of mind for the day. Proper young ladies like yourself should be early risers." As a natural nightowl, that alone would have pushed her to the brink of madness.

    She started to beg, at first just to change the program a bit, maybe let her sleep in? But that soon gave way to desperate pleas for release, for just one orgasm. Just one. Please? She described how her juices were flowing out from under her belt in a river, how her nipples were permanently erect. Just the smell of a man nearby could drive her to distraction. It had been almost a year, and it hardly seemed possible that she could be aroused any further, wasn't this enough? Hadn't she been a good girl? She deserved to cum, didn't she? Didn't she??!! What did she need to do? She would do anything. Anything!

    It had been over a year now, and she had not received a single reply. He wouldn't even acknowledge her existence.

    [end part 1]


    1. By this point satisfying the belt's predicament task requirement had become far more onerous than the wakeup-calls. There was only one task, and she only needed to satisfy the task once a week. She could find any man she wanted to satisfy the task, whether or not he had done so before. There weren't even any location-based restrictions. Given that much leeway, she had initially assumed it wouldn't be particularly difficult. The task -- apart from the terrifying consequences should she fail her task -- seemed to be the most lenient part of the settings her master had chosen. She couldn't have been more wrong.

      If she ever failed her task one week, the belt imposed a week of Fridays. Every day, including Sunday wold be just like Friday. Under normal circumstances, every Friday and every Saturday, from 5:00 P.M until midnight the belt edged her. Seven straight hours of being brought right to the bring of orgasm, and no further. There were no words to describe the intensity of it. Once it started, she could do nothing but lay in her bed and writhe in frustrated agony for what felt like an eternity.

      If she satisfied the task, there were only two nights of non-stop edging on Friday and Saturday. On Sunday there were no edges and no teasing. Her Master had explained in his initial message that she "must have some time to rest and recover, just for some contrast and to ensure your Monday morning session is a delightful little shock." Monday through Thursday evening she would sometimes receive a single or double edging, taking her to the edge of orgasm just once or twice, but it really didn't compare to the debilitating treatment of Friday and Saturday. Half the time she wouldn't be edged, a quarter of the time she would get a single edging, and a quarter of the time it would be a double. Fridays, of course, were the worst -- not only did she have the morning alarm clock from Hell, but a whole evening of mind-melting, non-stop torment. And if she ever failed her task, that was every day of the next week, including Sunday.

      In order to satisfy the belt's programmed task she had to find one man and give that same man three orgasms in the span of one hour. For an orgasm to count, he had to ejaculate into either her mouth or her ass, and the third and final ejaculation had to be into her ass.

      [end part 2]


    2. There were numerous reasons why that task was such a challenge. First, in order to fuck her ass, they would see the belt, and she would have to explain. That was often a showstopper right there -- there were a lot of guys that got freaked out. Sure, there were lots of guys that didn't care or even thought the belt was really hot, but that led to the real problem: how many of them could go three rounds in an hour? It turns out there weren't that many of them that could. Even for those men that were capable of ejaculating three times in an hour, that third time was often unpleasant. As she found out all too soon, a man might force himself to go three rounds in an hour once to impress a girl on a special occasion, but getting him to do it once a week is next to impossible. The requirement that the last ejaculation had to be in her ass further complicated things. After two orgasms a man's cock would already be sore, and forcing his sensitive semi-erect member into her tightest hole would often be quite painful for him. Countless guys would boast to her that they could easily go three times, but most of them wouldn't be able to meet her eyes after the first blowjob, and then leave in a hurry without giving her what she needed. Every week she had to try over and over again to find a capable man willing to give her what she needed, with dozens of failures for every success. It had been easier, though never easy, at first -- seducing men she had never met, stroking their egos, offering them the prospect of a hot new conquest in exchange for a demonstration of their sexual prowess. Lately, word had started to get around that trying to satisfy "the crazy anal slut," as she had become known, did not make for a pleasant evening. It kept getting more and more difficult to find someone to satisfy the belt every week.

      Worse, she soon came to realize that beyond the problem of finding a man to satisfy the requirements, the belt's programmed task was psychological torture as well. Her task was teacher her that sex was something for which she needed to beg. Not only was she permanently denied orgasm, she needed to plead, bribe and trick men into sharing their bodies with her. Other women got pleasure, deserved pleasure. Over and over she was being conditioned to accept that the best she could ever hope to do, if she was lucky and tried her very hardest, was to convince a man to use her body for his own pleasure and never for her own. She had to beg men to allow her to give them orgasms, beg to help random strangers experience what she wanted more than anything else in the world. She got to watch them go over the edge, not once but three times, and then leave, often in so much pain they wouldn't even say thank you. She would, quite literally, have killed for one orgasm, let alone three.

      [end part 3]


    3. It was a Thursday night, just after the second man that evening left her apartment after only a single blowjob. She was half naked, her breasts hanging out of her skimpy black dress, where her limp-dicked second caller had been caressing them before she started sucking his cock. It always frustrated her when the men started touching her breasts like that. Her body was so sensitive now just the caress of her breasts was enough to bring her close to orgasm. There was no chance of an actual orgasm of course. The electrodes in her belt started administering excruciating shocks straight to her clit if she ever got too close. Foreplay was now something to be avoided, it was just another kind of edging, another kind of torment.

      Then, her aroused, frustrated thoughts were interrupted by a ringing phone.

      The woman on the other end of the phone sounded like she'd been crying. "Please. Please just stop sending...." the caller really started bawling now.

      "I'm sorry who is this?" she asked. "I think you have the wrong number."

      "No, no, you don't understand. He has my key too," the caller was barely holding herself together. "Whenever you send something to him, he has it set so it gets automatically forwarded to me."

      Her heart skipped a beat. The letters, the recordings they were going to this woman. Maybe there was a way to find him through her! "Where is he??" she shrieked into the phone. "Let me talk to him! NOW!"

      There was more sobbing on the other end of hte phone. "I've never met him either, I can't. The only email I ever got told me he never intends to contact me again. Six months ago he bought my code on the E.L.F. site, and then he sent me the email. Here, let me read it to you: "

      [end part 4]


    4. "Dear YankeeAnna96, (That's my E.L.F. username), I just wanted to drop you a quick note to let you know that you've really brightened an old man's day. I saw your picture on E.L.F and knew that I simply must have you! Your long black hair and bright blue eyes are truly exquisite. I really love the profile photo you uploaded to E.L.F., I've even gone so far as to have it professionally printed and framed. It now hangs on my wall with the others."

      "Speaking of the others, there's one firecracker whose key I bought up a few years ago who just will not shut up. I'm sure you'd probably rather not hear a boring old man prattle on about all the little details of what that belt of yours is going to do, so I'm going to let my talkative little firecracker handle that instead. Your belt is programmed just like hers, except that for the first year it will do absolutely nothing. I hope you really appriciate my generosity. I'm going to let you enjoy a whole year without any sort of distractions down there between your legs before switching to little miss firecracker's program and then the fun will really begin. I'm going to let her tell you all about it. I've set up a forwarding system so you can hear everything first-hand. By the way, as you may have guessed, I really don't do the whole staying in touch with my trophies thing. I just like looking at your pictures on the wall, and knowing I own you. If I start getting too much crap from you too, I'll have to buy yet another girl to send it to and that would just get to be too much work. So, be a good girl and don't bother me, ok? You were an impulse buy, really. One of my acquisitions fell through yesterday and I needed a pick-me up. As I said, you really have brightened an old man's day! --Your new owner"

      "That's it. That's the whole message. So now you know. Stop sending me your goddamn shit!" the caller finished. "He's showing me what's going to happen to me and I just don't want to hear it anymore ok? It's so horrible and you keep sending those videos and you keep rubbing my face in what's going to happen. So stop, ok? Just stop. I just don't want to think about it. I can't take anymore of it." The voice on the end of the phone sounded out of breath, exhausted.

      She was stunned. Her Master, her tormentor had completely ignored everything she sent him, and then found a way to use it all to torture someone else. Going on and on about everything that she had to endure, she was only showing this woman just how horrible her life was about to become. Whoever her Master was he clearly was a monster with no remorse, no empathy, and no pity to feel if he truly could feel anything at all. Her head ached and a wave of nausea flooded her body as the realization hit her. There was no hope, for either of them. Unending edging and arousal and frustration, forever, with absolutely no hope at all of escape or even a moment's relief. And, on top of everything else, she hadn't fulfilled her task yet that week, and the following day was Friday. She put the caller on speaker so that she could set down the phone and raise her hands to press on her temples, soothing her suddenly throbbing head.

      She became aware that she was just standing there, breathing heavily into the phone, and the caller was expecting a response. She said the only thing she could think to say: "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

      [The End]


    5. Wow! Doc, that was one amazing story! Really enjoyed to read it. I was just wondering about one thing: She could start to tie and kind of forcing the guys to do what she needed. But maybe that would end in jail.

  2. This comment has been removed by the author.

  3. Omigosh Doc, that was amazing! just... fuck...

  4. Alright, I'll give it a try too.

    It is a well-known psychological principle that if an animal, human or otherwise, knows that their actions have no chance of impacting their suffering, they'll experience what is known as "learned helplessness" and simply stop trying to alleviate their suffering. It is also well-known that the desire to orgasm, especially after many accumulated hours of teasing and edging by the TTcB, can become one of the strongest motivational forces a woman can experience. Thus, the sadist programmed the belt to allow its wearer orgasms, one every 50 weeks, if the conditions were met. A number on the front of the belt showed the number of weeks until the orgasm.

    It is also a well-known psychological principle that Every weekday had a different type of task for our tragic heroine, with the severity of these tasks escalating each week over the 50 weeks. Failing a task reset the belt's timer, but the severity of the tasks could only stay the same or go up, never down. If she failed a task at the 10th week, she would have to repeat the task for the next 10 weeks at the same difficulty, before the difficulty level would resume its steady climb. Motivation to complete the tasks was strong; after all, if she could just endure for 50 weeks, she would earn the orgasm that all the edging and punishment had been making her crave.

    1. Monday's task was exhibition. She would be given a random list of articles of clothing to wear, and have to spend 6 hours in public in that outfit. Week 1 was simple, with the only stipulation that she wear full slut make-up, the only constant for this task. By Week 10 underwear was a thing of the past. Miniskirts, tube tops, and high heels were a mainstay by week 20, and by week 30 nipple clamps, butt plugs, and fishnet stockings would complete the ensemble. For the remaining weeks, clothing slowly disappeared and was replaced with revealing lingerie, fishnet body stockings, and by week 45, rope bondage. The last 5 weeks were to be spent fully nude except for the belt, a 3-inch diameter butt plug, handcuffs, a ring gag, and the words "USE ME" written across her chest. During these exhibition sessions, she was not allowed to refuse any sexual task solicited of her. Mondays were especially difficult because after week 40 she would start getting the cops' attention, and the subsequent public nudity would often land her in jail, preventing her from completing her task and restarting the timer.

      Tuesday's task was pain. The belt would give a five-minute round of intense punishment shocks directly to her clitoris 4*X times, distributed randomly throughout the day, where X is the number of weeks completed. Thus, if she made it to week 50, 1000 of the 1440 minutes of her day would be spent in agony. Because this task was automatically programmed, there was no way to fail, a reprieve of sorts from the threat of resetting the timer.

    2. Wednesday's task was oral. Two cocks had to orgasm in her mouth for every week completed, up to 100 by the last week. As the program wore on and the number of cocks became more than one woman could find, she gave her services willingly to a local BDSM group, who were more than happy to satisfy her begging, but made sure she spent the day in painful predicament bondage, with her needy, aching body completely vulnerable to the whims of whoever was using her mouth, or whoever was around. Sometimes they would blow the last load of the day on her face instead, to intentionally reset her timer, but she kept coming back and begging for more of the same, because she knew she'd be unable to complete the task otherwise.

      Thursday's task was also oral. Same rules as above, but only women could satisfy the requirement. Similarly to Wednesday, she would offer herself to a nearby lesbian bar. Unlike the BDSM club, these women would inflict nothing but pleasure in our heroine, with vibrators, anal toys, and drugs to keep her in a state of perpetual euphoria. Of course, every time an orgasm was about to hit, the belt would give her the standard five minutes of punishment shocks, but that didn't prevent them from trying.

    3. Friday's task was anal. Same rules as Wednesday, but the orgasm had to be in her ass.

      Saturday's task was also anal, but this time the focus was on her pleasure. The belt required her to edge herself 2*X times, where X is the number of elapsed weeks, but she had to do these edges herself, from anal stimulation only. She would know her edge was complete when the belt would sense her arousal and shock her for 2 minutes. It took her the first 2 weeks to even experience a single anal edge, and as the program wore on, the soreness from the previous day's anal gangbangs would leave her backdoor raw and tender, making the edges that much harder.

      Sunday's task was slavery. Every Saturday she would post on Orgasm Denial Dating explaining her predicament and the task, and offer control of her TTcB to the first person to request it. If there were no takers by midnight on Saturday night, the task was already failed, so her ad promised to satisfy any and all of her temporary owner's sexual desires without question or hesitation. Her temporary owner would have access to all of the TTcB's functionality, but would not allow her to cum, or to change the settings for any other days. One final stipulation was that at midnight on Sunday, the TTcB would scan her pussy, and if it did not detect bleeding, bruising, stretching, or other physical evidence of pussy torture, the task would be failed, so she was forced to beg her temporary master to remove her belt and abuse her naked cunt, lest the timer on the belt restart. These were the only times the belt was removed, if it was removed; sometimes the owner couldn't be convinced to abuse her pussy, or would agree, tie her up in bondage, and abuse her ass and tits instead, causing her to fail the task.

    4. Week after week, the cycle would repeat. First the humiliation of Sunday and Monday, a full day of pain, then the four-day sex binge, over and over. Once, after a Sunday owner made her spend the evening as the urinal at a frat party, she made the mistake of rebelling and not completing a single task for the next week, but the belt was too cunning, and programmed a 5-hour alternating shock and edge session for the next morning, and the next morning, and the next morning, until she had completed a week of tasks agan. She didn't make this mistake twice, and from then on, she obediently followed her programming.

      50 weeks is a long time, however, and ask the tasks became more intense, failures became more and more frequent, and each failure meant the failed week had to be repeated a number of times equal to the week number. Nonetheless, she kept trying her best to statisfy the evil belt, because after all, her next orgasm is only a year of humiliation, pain, cum, and sexual servitude away.

      She was an obedient and strong-willed sub, however, and within 10 years she'd finally done it. Monday's 6 hours were spent tied to the campus mascot at her local university in a public gangbang; after all, every cop and campus security guard had taken their turn with her on some Sunday. Tuesday meant 16 hours and 40 minutes of pure agony. 100 cocks and 100 pussies in her mouth, and 100 in her ass kept her occupied until Saturday, when the knowledge of the impending orgasm gave her the easiest 100 anal edges of her life. Sunday she was rented by a dom who was in a body cast due to a car accident, but nothing gave her more pleasure than inflicting teasing, pain, and humiliation onto herself, for tomorrow she would finally get what she'd been craving with all her soul for the last decade.

    5. Monday morning, she was awoken by stimulation from the belt, and before she could begin to savor it, the orgasm was over. The instructions had said nothing of what would happen next, so she tried to return to a normal life for the next week, until the next Monday, the 5-hour edge-shock session returned. She knew then what the true intent of the belt was: thanks to the slow increase in intensity of the program, she was now properly prepared to endure the harshest form of sexual slavery, week after week, not missing a day for 50 more weeks until her next orgasm. The belt had conditioned her to be the ultimate slut.

      Her owner was contacted automatically at the end of week 50 to inform him that she had finished the program. She was the first of many girls to complete the program, so he made a mental note to make it more severe for his next purchase.

    6. The first sentence of the second paragraph was meant to read "It is also a well-known psychological principle that an organism will adjust to the demands placed on it, if these demands are increased incrementally."

      Top THAT, Chuck.

    7. Anonymous, I dunno what you want to be called as a screen name but well done. you have made the ultimate cruel TTcB program. Hats off to you... I may as well just pack up this caption blog because nothing can top that...

      =p But I think I'll try and keep the captions coming anyway, just in case I hit gold


    8. Thanks Chuck! I'm a huge fan of your blog, so I'm glad I could contribute. Feel free to incorporate any part of it into whatever you want, I particularly like how Monday turned out. And please don't stop making captions! I'd probably cry...

  5. Anon - Wonderful work all. :)

    I go away for a bit and everyone brings their "A" game!

  6. Anon -

    Let's see. He'd purchased hundreds of belts and done just about every variation of your standard tease/punishment/humiliation/impossible-tasks that one could think of. Sure the thought of all those nameless half-forgotten women, writhing in need and despair for the rest lives warmed his crotch, at least for a little while, but now the excitement was beginning to fade. He looked at tonight's "victim", her profile laid out before him on the screen, and he just couldn't get excited about the same old same old.

    Then he noticed a new icon in the menu bar, "Advanced Settings". He clicked it.

    "For those with a deeper understanding of psychological conditioning, E.L.F. is now proud to offer an advanced suite of tools. Take advantage of our belt's full range of abilities to shape the minds of your chosen belt wearer."

    This could be interesting, very interesting indeed.

    He felt the familiar swelling in his groin as the possibilities began to unfold in his mind. He opened up more windows and began a personal crash course in human reasoning and animal training...

    1. Anon -

      After earning some decent pocket money with a string of week-long E.L.F contracts, she decided to make the jump and put up her belt for a lifelong contract. The random extremes of the previous sessions had lifted her to new heights of need that had left her heart pounding and her legs weak. The idea of spending a lifetime under a stranger's control proved to be too great an erotic stimulus for her to ignore. After a marathon session of edging, she clicked the link and committed herself to a lifetime contract. Just pressing the button was enough to make her fall to the floor with an orgasm. When her contract was purchased in less than ten minutes, she collapsed again.

      The first hint that things with her new E.L.F. contract might not be what she expected was when she received no contact from her purchaser and no response from her emails. This alone would have added an air of mystery to the situation, except that her belt appeared to have received no instructions either. It wasn't until almost a week had passed that she noticed what had changed.

    2. Anon -

      Her belt wasn't just not stimulating her, it was canceling out her sensitivity completely. She was reading through her favorite denial site when she realized that she felt nothing down below. Not just a lack of teasing, but literally nothing. It was as if her entire crotch was numb. She experimented, trying all the usual things that got her juices flowing, porn, people watching, stimulating her nipples. Nothing. Eventually she noticed that her belt vibrated almost imperceptibly when she tried to get excited. Hold a glass of water against the belt at those time caused the water to ripple. She had no idea it was the ultrasonic generators that were numbing her genitals that caused the water to jump.

      For three weeks she could do nothing to get the slightest rise out of her body. She began to despair that her belt's controller wanted her to suffer by making a denial enthusiast be unable to feel teasing and edging. She took a walk down a busy street to try to take her mind off her depression. As she walked down the street, her eyes lingered on all the attractive men and women she passed. She saw an especially fine male specimen in a business suit approaching. On a whim, she unbuttoned a couple of buttons to give him a little tease as he passed. Suddenly, she felt the faintest tingle in her pussy. After so long of nothing, this faint sensation made her heart race. The man passed, staring at her flushed face, tracing the spread of blood infused skin as it spread down her neck and across the tops of her exposed breasts.

      It didn't take her long to realize that dressing provocatively led to the pleasant faint tingle. She took to spending her days walking down crowded streets, visiting museums and shopping malls, anywhere she could be seen by lots of strangers. Frustratingly, the tingle faded if she maintained the same level of exposure. She had to change into ever more revealing outfits just to get that same tingle.

    3. Anon -

      Eventually she was wearing as slutty and sparse an outfit as could be gotten away with. She never wore underwear anymore. She skirts barely covered the bottom curve of her ass and her tops were either nearly sheer of slit past the navel and loose enough to gape open with almost every step. She was regularly asked to leave the places she frequented, but just as often, the authorities merely arranged themselves to get the best look possible as she strutted around. Then the tingles began to fade again. She was desperate. Short of complete nudity, there was little she could do. In sheer desperation, she rubbed herself against the security guard that was escorting her out of the Metropolitan Art Museum. He looked at her for a moment, then took her into a nearby closet. He unzipped and pushed her down toward his waist. Deciding that a blowjob was better than an arrest, she took him willingly into her mouth. Suddenly she felt the strongest tingle yet. With this inducement, she gave the security guard the best blowjob of his life. Leaning against the closet wall, he sent her on her way, telling her what days he worked at the museum if she wanted to "sample the artwork" again.

      After that she started giving blow jobs to anyone she could. She quickly learned that repeatedly blowing the same man caused the tingles to diminish. She became an expert at discerning which men would be up to a quick blow from a stranger and how best to approach each one. Which ones needed to see desperation, which ones needed to think she was overwhelmed with desire.

    4. Anon -

      Soon though, blow jobs weren't enough. She took a chance and offered her services to a woman, and was rewarded with a powerful tingle. After licking countless women to orgasm, the tingle started to fade again. She then began offering herself up to groups, then began opening her ass to any who would use it. Over time the tingles grew more and more powerful until she started to feel full teasing and edging.

      After two years, she had become the perfect slut. She dressed provocatively, would offer herself to any and all that might have the slightest chance of taking her, and had become an expert at seduction and getting others to use her. She spent her every waking moment passing herself from one slutty encounter to the next. She no longer even thought of the money piling up in her bank account, other than using it for her ever growing wardrobe and to pay for transportation and cover charges.

      So subtle was her transition into a mindless pleasure chasing slut, that she never noticed when the belt stopped rewarding her. Her mind alone drove her to the edge with the behavior she had been conditioned to exhibit. The belt retired to simply ensuring that she never managed to cross over to orgasm, that she spent the rest of her life adrift on self-imposed need, driven by her own reshaped mind.