Chapter 15
Grace
The leather was soft but sturdy in my hands, heavier than I’d expected. My fingers shook as I tried to work out how it fastened, but the weight of his gaze and my own overwhelming arousal made me clumsy. The belt slipped from my grasp, clattering to the floor between us.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped, dropping to my knees to retrieve it.
As I picked it up, I noticed something that made my breath catch—small metal fittings on the inside of the strap that I knew must be intended to cover my pussy and my bottom crack, attachment points for something—somethings—that could only be…
“Yes,” Scott said, reading my expression. “It has fittings for a dildo and a butt plug, to fill a girl up. If you’re a very good girl, or a very bad one, I might use those features with you. The constant fullness would be a reminder of who owns your pleasure now.”
The thought of walking around filled, plugged, unable to touch myself or find relief, made my pussy clench so hard it almost hurt. I stood slowly, the belt clutched in my trembling hands, trying again to work out the straps.
“Here,” Scott said, his voice taking on that patient, instructional tone that somehow made everything more mortifying. “The waist strap goes first. It sits just above your hipbones. This will look quite fetching with your suspenders and stockings, I think.”
He took the belt from my shaking hands and held it up, showing me how the leather pieces connected. The main waist strap was about two inches wide, with a sturdy clasp that looked like it could withstand considerable struggle. From it hung a wider strap that would pass between my legs.
“Turn around,” he commanded softly.
I obeyed, my bare bottom still burning from his spanking. I felt him step close behind me, his breath warm against my neck as he reached around to position the waist strap. His fingers brushed my skin as he adjusted it, making sure it sat properly on my hips, over my garter belt.
“Not too tight,” he murmured, fastening the clasp on my right hip with a decisive click that made me swallow hard. “You’ll be wearing this for extended periods. It needs to be secure, but not uncomfortable.”
The leather felt strange against my skin, foreign and constraining even though it wasn’t fully fastened yet. I could feel the weight of the crotch strap hanging down behind me, and my face burned knowing what came next.
“Now for the interesting part,” Scott said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Spread your legs shoulder-width apart.”
I shuffled my feet apart, hyperaware of how exposed I was, how his seed was still leaking from my well-used pussy.
He knelt behind me, and I felt his hand guide the crotch strap forward between my thighs.
The leather was wider here, maybe three inches, designed to cover everything from my clit to the top of my bottom crack.
“This needs to be positioned precisely,” he explained, his fingers adjusting the strap so it sat perfectly against my swollen flesh. “Too far forward and it won’t cover your anus properly. Too far back and you’ll still be able to reach your clit.”
The clinical way he described it made my whole body flush with heat. I bit my lip hard as he continued his adjustments, his fingers occasionally brushing against my sensitive areas, each touch sending sparks through my already overwrought nervous system.
“You can feel these, I think.” On the outside of the strap, he traced his finger over the metal fittings I’d noticed earlier, the ones on the inside of the leather.
“The dildo attachment goes here, right at your pussy. And this one,” his finger moved back, pressing against the leather that covered my bottom-hole, “is for the plug.”
A whimper escaped me at the thought. He stood, pulling the strap up snugly against me, and I gasped at the pressure against my sensitive flesh.
The leather was soft but firm, pressing against my clit just enough to be maddening without providing any real stimulation.
When I heard another click, from the clasp at the base of my spine, I couldn’t hold in a tiny sob.
He stepped back a pace. “You won’t be able to remove the belt yourself. I have the electronic key on my handheld.”
I felt the electronic lock engage with a soft beep that seemed to echo through my entire body. The finality of it made my knees weak. I was literally locked into this device, unable to access my own body without Scott’s permission.
“The belt is made of aerospace-grade materials,” Scott explained, circling me slowly as I stood there with my dress still bunched at my waist. “The leather exterior is just for comfort and aesthetics. It’s antibacterial and fully washable.
Underneath, there’s a titanium mesh that makes it impossible to cut or tear.
The electronic lock uses military-grade encryption—any attempt to tamper with it will trigger an alert on my phone. ”
His fingers traced along the waist strap, and I shivered at the light touch.
“It’s also equipped with sensors that expand on the data your perineal sensor is already giving me.
Temperature, moisture levels, movement patterns.
I’ll know if you’re aroused, if you’re trying to stimulate yourself through the belt, even if you’re having inappropriate dreams.”
“Dreams?” I whispered, horrified at the thought that even my unconscious mind would be monitored.
“The belt can detect the physical responses associated with erotic dreams,” he said matter-of-factly. “Increased blood flow, involuntary muscle contractions. If you have a particularly intense dream, I’ll receive a notification.”
I pressed my thighs together, feeling the strange pressure of the leather between them. It was wide enough that I couldn’t get any friction where I needed it most, but the constant presence against my sensitive flesh was its own kind of torment.
“There’s also a punishment feature,” Scott continued, and my tummy flipped. “If you attempt to remove the belt or stimulate yourself through it, it can deliver a corrective shock. Nothing dangerous, but quite unpleasant. Would you like a demonstration?”
“No!” The word burst out before I could stop it, and I immediately added, “No, sir. I believe you.”
He smiled at my panic. “Smart girl. The shock is calibrated to your individual sensitivity levels—another benefit of all that monitoring data Selecta has collected on you.”
He moved to stand directly in front of me, his eyes holding mine with that intensity that made my insides melt.
“You’ll wear this until our meeting next Tuesday.
Four days of complete denial, Grace. Four days of watching Leah’s story without any possibility of relief.
You will ask me for permission to relieve yourself—and you will remember that your perineal sensor will alert me to any attempts at rule-breaking, even when you’re not in your belt.
You will not wear any panties, of course. ”
My breathing had become shallow, rapid. Four days? How could I possibly endure that? Even now, minutes after he’d fucked me so thoroughly, I could feel arousal building again just from his proximity, from the weight of his gaze.
“What if I… what if I can’t stand it?” I asked, my voice small.
“Then you’ll learn to stand it,” he said simply. “This is part of your training, Grace. Learning that your pleasure belongs to your superior. That your body’s responses are mine to control, to allow or deny as I see fit.”
He reached out and smoothed my dress back down over the belt.
From the outside, you could barely tell I was wearing it—only a well-trained eye would suspect, I felt certain.
On the other hand, I had no doubt that there were many such well-trained eyes at Selecta, and the thought made me swallow hard.
When I got home at last after a day of trying to concentrate on anything but the humiliating belt around my waist and between my thighs, I collapsed onto my sofa, every movement reminding me of the leather pressing against my most intimate places.
The apartment’s familiar surroundings felt alien now, as if the belt had transformed not just my body, but my entire world.
My handheld buzzed with a message, and my heart leaped thinking it might be Scott.
But it was just the refrigerator system reminding me I’d only consumed 743 calories today.
Food was the last thing on my mind. How could I think about eating when every shift of my hips made the belt press against my swollen, needy flesh?
A sudden, urgent pressure in my bladder made me shift uncomfortably on the sofa. Oh no. I had managed to push away this most basic necessity since Scott had locked the belt on me. Could I actually bear to ask to use the bathroom?
With burning cheeks, I picked up my handheld and typed out a message, each word making my face grow hotter: Sir, I need to use the bathroom. Please.
The response came almost immediately: Of course. Give me a moment.
I heard a soft beep from the belt, and the electronic lock disengaged with a quiet click. Then another message appeared: Take off everything except your garter belt and stockings. I’ll be watching to ensure you follow instructions properly.
I felt dizzy. Of course he’d be watching.
The cameras in my bathroom were supposedly for ‘safety,’ but we both knew better.
With trembling fingers, I stood and made my way to the bedroom, pulling my white dress over my head and hanging it carefully in the closet.
With a rush of heat to my cheeks, I unclasped my bra and put it away in the lingerie drawer.
The belt felt even heavier now that I could remove it. I unfastened the clasps with shaking hands, gasping as the leather came away from my sensitive flesh. The cool air against my newly exposed pussy made me shudder, and I couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped as the pressure released.
I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror and froze.
The image reflected back at me was obscene—the white garter belt framing my bare pussy and bottom, the stockings making my legs look long and somehow available, as if the translucent fabric were some kind of gift-wrap.
My breasts were bare, nipples hard from arousal that never seemed to fully subside anymore.
I looked like something from one of those videos I’d been analyzing, like a woman made for sex and submission.
My hand drifted toward my pussy without conscious thought, and I had to bite my lip hard to stop myself.
The need was overwhelming, a constant ache that Scott’s earlier use had only temporarily satisfied.
Even now, I could see the evidence of his mastery on my inner thighs, and the sight made me clench with fresh desire.
I forced myself to walk to the bathroom, hyperaware of every movement, of the cameras tracking my naked form.
The toilet seat was cold against my punished bottom, making me wince.
As I relieved myself, I tried not to think about Scott watching this most private moment, tried not to imagine him sitting at his computer, observing my humiliation with that intense gaze.
When I reached for the toilet paper, I tried to be clinical, efficient.
But the moment the soft tissue touched my pussy, I couldn’t suppress the cry that escaped me.
Even that light contact sent sparks through my oversensitive clit, making my whole body clench with need.
I had to grip the edge of the counter to steady myself, my breathing ragged as I finished cleaning myself with trembling hands.
The belt waited on the bathroom counter where I’d left it.
I picked it up with resignation, working the leather back into position.
The moment it pressed against me, down there, though, I felt my inner muscles clench involuntarily, a fresh wave of arousal making me bite down hard on my lip.
The pressure was maddening—not enough to provide relief, but more than enough to remind me of my desperate state.
With shaking hands, I fastened the clasps, hearing them click into place with that awful finality.
The electronic lock engaged with its soft beep, sealing me once again into this torment.
I walked back to the living room on unsteady legs, each step making the leather shift against me in ways that sent little sparks through my core.
The tablet waited on the coffee table, and I knew I couldn’t delay any longer.
Four days of this. Four days of watching without relief. The thought alone made me want to sob.
I settled onto the sofa, pulling my legs up beneath me in a futile attempt to find a position where the belt didn’t press quite so insistently.
The NMB logo filled the screen as I navigated to the folder Scott had assigned.
Three video files waited: Leah’s First Cock, Training Day, and Public Display. Even the titles made my face burn.
I pressed play on the first video before I could lose my nerve.