Bound To Happen - Busty Betsy x Samatha - sex stories, erotic fantasies

Bound To Happen - Busty Betsy x Samatha

Posted:bbwclub

Busty 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,
Busty 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 Busty Betsy had become a
little more focused on her boyfriend Jack, and was ignoring me more
than usual.

When Busty 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 Busty 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 Busty 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.

Busty 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!!" Busty 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.

Busty 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 Busty Betsy held a
party. I was to be a major element of both decoration and
entertainment for the event. My new boyfriend Paul, Busty 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. Busty 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 Busty 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 Busty 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 Busty 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 Busty 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. Busty 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 Busty 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
Busty 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 Busty 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, Busty Betsy had chosen him for me, but I realized
right then that I loved him. I looked up, and there was my bitch
sister Busty 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.

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