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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.
The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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- This story ist part of the Ravished in a Flash Tournament
- It competes against Can Innocence be regained? in the SF-2 match
- Theme: Innocence gained
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The chastity belt (innocent gained)
She stood before him, her hands clasped behind her back, her gaze lowered. Her breathing was shallow as he slowly walked around her. The ground beneath her bare feet was cool, but the heat beneath her skin blazed relentlessly.
A narrow metal chastity belt gleamed on her body, locked with a tiny, symbolic key that only he possessed. The cold material clung to her heated skin, a constant, merciless reminder of her submission and his control.
"You know why you're here, don't you?" His voice was dark, coaxing and threatening at the same time, a velvet rope wrapped around her consciousness.
"Yes, Lord." Her voice was little more than a breath, a subtle flicker in the silence.
"Tell me."
"To win my innocence by learning to resist my lust."
A faint, appreciative smile appeared on his lips before he nodded slightly.
The test began: With shackles smooth and cooler than her heated skin, he bound her wrists behind her back, leaving her completely at his mercy. The touch of the fabric was a quiet promise, a gentle touch of dominance that made her heart race.
His fingertips glided slowly over her shoulders, tracing invisible patterns on her skin. A tingling sensation spread where he touched her, traveling down her neck and causing goosebumps to rise. His touch was a play of heat and coolness, alternating between a fleeting brush and a demanding pressure that kept her in constant anticipation.
A hint of perfume mingled with the salty scent of her heated skin. She sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers glided over the base of her breasts. The touch was so brief, so outrageously tantalizing, that a soft whimper escaped her throat.
"Do you feel that?" His voice was a dark murmur, vibrating close to her ear, a promise of agony and pleasure.
She nodded almost imperceptibly, not daring to speak, as his hand slowly stroked her stomach, pausing at the cold edge of the metal. The contrast between his warm skin and the cool steel made her tremble again.
His other arm wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her against his body. She felt the hardness of his arousal against her spine, an unmistakable sign of how much this game excited him.
"So beautifully receptive," he whispered. "Yet all you get is the burning of desire."
His mouth found her neck, kissing her there. Her knees weakened, the shackles on her wrists straining as she struggled against the restraints—not to escape, but to demand more.
His tongue stroked the delicate skin of her neck while his fingers stroked her breasts again, this time harder, teasing the sensitive nipples. The thrill of the unfulfilled touch made her nipples throb hard and longing.
Words, looks, touches—all designed to drive her to the brink of madness without granting her release.
Then warm wax dripped onto her skin in slow, agonizingly slow intervals, each drop a fiery kiss that stirred her nerves into an explosive dance of pleasure and pain. The first drop hit her shoulder, and immediately her body shuddered. The heat burning her delicate skin made her gasp, the sensation of melting wax eating into her pores like a gentle but unstoppable agony.
It took less than a second before the next drop hit her breast—and then another, again and again. Every drop was like a tiny sting, a promise of more. Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to fight the burning sensation spreading within her.
Then the feather tickle began—a delicate, mischievous brush of the soft feathers that grew more intense with each moment. The feather brushed across her stomach, then moved gently but relentlessly between her thighs, delicately touching her sensitive skin before moving back up, over her neck, along her back. A feeling of uncontrollable laughter, but also of terror, gripped her. The contrast between the intense tenderness of the feather and the burning heat of the wax caused her senses to merge—pain and pleasure mingling in a mixture of overwhelming longing.
Again and again, she threatened to break. Her body yearned for release, for that sweet moment of fulfillment, but it gave her nothing. Her breath came in shaky gasps, her chest felt as if it would burst under the strain. But every time she seemed to be exhausting herself, there was his gaze—that relentless glint in his eyes.
At that moment, he was the only one who knew her completely, who knew what she needed, and she knew she would give him everything.
"Are you still with me?" His voice was deep and demanding, but also controlled—and that made it all the more intense.
"Yes, Lord," she whispered, though her words were interrupted by gasping breath. Her entire body was filled with warmth and desire, and yet she knew he demanded more of her—that he still wasn't satisfied.
The next drop of wax hit the tip of her breast, and she flinched involuntarily, a cry of sensation escaping her. But she knew: this, too, was just another step in this game.
The hours were lost in the frenzy of control until the night slowly gave way to dusk and pale light bathed the room in twilight. Her legs trembled, her lips sore from moans and silent pleas, but something deep within her had awakened. Not weakness, but a wild, defiant strength that grew with every temptation overcome.
He stepped in front of her, holding the small key between his thumb and forefinger.
"You have gained your innocence," he said softly, his breath brushing her cheek. "Not through purity, but through control."