Keyholder Demoness Ch. 11

"...and there's more...unfortunately, it's even worse..."

Charity sat trembling as she listened to the latest voice message from her abducted lover, Blue. So far, Blue had admitted that the chastity belt that was currently locked around Charity's waist was a mysterious and ancient relic.

Charity's first thought was that Blue's sanity was slipping. She had been locked in isolation for so long, maybe her brain was inventing reasons behind her situation. Maybe this was all a desperate attempt to make sense of her current reality.

Still there was more to the message...

"...unfortunately, it's even worse... You're not the first woman on whom I've locked the belt..."

Charity felt her stomach twist and she looked down at her crotch. This piece of metal with which she had such a personal relationship, such intimate contact... The thought that it was worn by another woman first... For some reason she felt a sense of disgust. Then she felt anger - anger towards Blue. Then she felt guilty for feeling anger towards Blue.

"Tam. Tam Fir - the woman who was my girlfriend before you. She and I used to play tease and denial games too. I convinced her to wear the belt for longer and longer periods of time. After each release she would have earth shaking orgasms. She loved it. We were having a great time.

"I convinced her to wear the belt for a full menstrual cycle and she agreed. We locked everything down - her in the belt, me in the key collar. At the end of a month, Tam was ready to get out of the belt. But, she hadn't started her menses yet, and I convinced her to wait another week.

"It seems that her periods were suppressed somehow. I convinced her to wait a second additional week. After that week she was so desperate for relief she was not sleeping well. She was starting to have trouble concentrating. She wanted out, but after a long argument, I convinced her to stay in it for a third additional week.

"Tam started having memory issues. She couldn't think of longer words. At first I thought it was exhaustion, then perhaps something akin to Alzheimer's disease. It was different though. While her brain seemed to become duller, other senses became sharper. Her vision, for example, improved to the point that she did not need glasses anymore.

"I was curious. By this time, I was not so much convincing her to keep wearing the belt, I was forcing her to do it. After two full months she had still not had her period and she was still wearing the belt. She began having extreme difficulty using a computer keyboard. She began to have trouble differentiating between p's and q's and g's when she was reading.

"Finally, the straw that broke the camel's back is when, inexplicably one day, she forgot how to drive. I mean, she sat down in the driver's seat, but she couldn't remember what to do to make the car go. She never even put the keys in the ignition or anything.

"Of course, despite her growing list of handicaps, she knew exactly what was causing her problems. She stormed into the house and demanded for me to remove the belt. Of course, I relented, finally. We had the angriest sex ever. She was begging me to slap her and bite her neck and her breasts. It was kind of frightening, but, holy shit, it was hot. And she actually passed out during one of her orgasms.

"I thought that once she no longer had the belt on and her sleep returned to normal, her mental problems would resolve. I retaught her how to drive. Some words had completely been eliminated from her vocabulary. I thought she'd remember them, but in reality she had to relearn them. Her dyslexic-like symptoms never really resolved.

"We resisted the chastity belt for a while. Finally, I talked her into it. We'd just go for 24 hours. As soon as the belt was on, her libido was off the charts. She was cuddling and physically needy and restless. Then she became really anxious. 'Take it off,' she begged. 'I have to go to the bathroom'.

"I reminded her that she could go with the belt on. It had never been an inconvenience. Still... She complained, yet she never actually got up and went into the bathroom. She became more and more angry with me. Finally, she could hold it no longer, but rather than actually use the bathroom, she went to the corner of the room and squatted and peed on the carpet. She had forgotten about the existence of toilets!

"She was utterly horrified with herself. She knew that peeing in the corner was the wrong thing to do, but she had no idea what the right thing was. She also knew exactly why she was forgetting things again. It was the belt.

"Of course I released her. But Tam had had enough and she moved out. That was the end of our relationship. Tam was terrified of the belt and, of course, I was utterly curious.

"Then I met you and we became lovers. You enjoyed the belt and I was always very conservative with the length of our games. I monitored you to make sure that you never showed signs of any kind of mental degradation. But, how could I have ever imagined what has happened?

"I have no idea how long I've been here in this room. It feels like a year. It could just as well be two months.

"I worry constantly about you, Charity. How long have you been forced to wear the belt? What has it done to you? Has the belt affected you the same way that it did Tam? Are you being transformed? And if you are transformed, what is the end state?

"That's why you need someone to take care of you. You need to forget about me. I think that you will forget about me. One day I'll just disappear from your mind... You need someone who will take care of your physical needs... at least as best possible. Choose someone in our BDSM community. Find someone who is interested in pet play. Find someone who won't mind keeping you in a cage. Because, I think that you are going to need a cage. A big, strong cage. It will need to be very secure, because I'm not sure what might happen if you are out in the world. There are people in the world who will hunt you down and put you somewhere and study you. A lover's cage would be better than, say, the asylum. There will be no one to love you in the asylum. Stay away from Perit..."

There was a popping sound and the voice message ended.

"Fuck!" Charity thought. Her hands were trembling. "What's happening to me?"

It had been almost five months since she had been wearing the belt - more than twice as long as Tam had worn the belt (supposedly). She could still drive and use a computer. Charity quickly opened a document in her browser and typed the alphabet as quickly as she could...

"abcdefghijklmnoqprstuvwxyz"

"No problems with that," Charity thought thankfully.

Sure. She was always horny as hell. But maybe she was immune to whatever had affected Tam. She had no trouble driving her car. She remembered what the purpose of a toilet was. On the other hand, she had been having trouble remembering words when she was talking sometimes.

What did this story tell Charity about her lover, Blue? She always thought that she and Blue had a beautiful, special romantic relationship based on mutual love and respect. Sure. Sure. Charity had told Blue that she would be her slave. But that was the spice that made their relationship special. After listening to this story, though, it sounded more like Blue was some kind of sociopath incapable of empathy, using people in ways to satisfy her own curiosity.

Charity could not conceive of a world where Blue would purposely subject her to some sort of harmful experiment. She could not believe that Blue would think of her as nothing more than an amusing lab rat. But, if the story was true...

Charity was a psychiatrist. She knew that people who live in isolation for extended periods can take on sociopathic traits. She also knew that isolation can cause an individual to develop huge fictitious scenarios simply to explain the horror that they are living in. That had to be what was going on...

Then again... Blue had never mentioned Tam before... And this would certainly explain those strange looks that Tam gave Charity in the past...

No! Charity loved Blue. That is what she remembered. That was the reality. She wasn't going to let the events of the past months color that in any way. Besides, the number one priority was to rescue Blue. And with Faith's help, they were getting closer to doing that!

<>--+-

Journal Entry 7:

Subject: Ash Adams - p-FEAR Installation

Sensitivity Tuning

QM: Rainbow

Phase 1.

After a random normal sleep cycle, the subject, Ash Adams, wakes up bound strictly in her gynecological chair. Her arms are strapped down. Her legs are splayed apart and locked in position. Straps hold her torso to the padded chair and her head in the headrest. A Type 5 security blindfold head harness is locked on her head. It is tight and locked in position. Without the key, there is no way to slip the blindfold in any way.

The padded, vibrating post that had been entertaining her since the loss of her hands has been removed from the chair. A soft breeze from a quiet fan blows directly on her hairless crotch.

The subject's initial reaction to this new configuration is subdued. She allows that her predicament is dictated by her owners by this point. But that changes the moment that she feels warm fingers touch the lips of her sex. It has been a very long time that the subject has seen or heard another human presence. And now to be touched...

Her heartbeat rises. "Hewoah?" she says - her diction reduced by the large beaded metal stud in her tongue. "Pweeze." There is no response.

She is also suddenly very aroused. Particularly when she feels the fingers dip inside and spread her lubrication around her clitoris. She is being masturbated by Dea Dammasch Herself and no mortal could resist the caress of Her gentle manipulations. In no time, the subject succumbs to a particularly carnal orgasm and the Dea lifts her fingers coated in the subject's ejaculae to the subject's mouth to allow her to taste the product of her own sex. The fluid is smeared beneath the subject's nose.

This taste and this smell are integral to the subject's sense of arousal from this point on. They are pleasure.

Phase 2.

The emissions of the subject's vagina upon orgasm are plentiful due to the hormones she receives and the heightened and constant arousal she endures. These are collected and infused in the liquid nourishment she receives, strongly affecting the taste.

After countless iterations of orgasms at the Dea's fingers, the subject is uninhibited in her vocalizations, screaming in sheer ecstasy with the cresting of each climax. But, as time passes we arrive to the point where, for the sake of progress, her screams must be silenced.

After a particularly rousing orgasm, the subject feels a pressure at her lips and opens her mouth like a baby bird expecting the reward of the Dea's fingers upon which she could suck. Instead of fingers, though, an oddly shaped rubber mass is pushed into her mouth. The passage is not easy and she feels as though her jaw might break for a moment. But the mass is slick. It is also perfectly constructed, modeled after the interior of her mouth. When it finally slips into place, her teeth press into grooves and the metal bead on the top of her tongue stud snaps past a tight collar, trapping her tongue in its own little pocket.

The subject struggles a bit, a quiet mewling noise emitting from her nose, but she is well restrained. When she settles, she realizes that the gag is comfortable, easily bearable, and its presence, pervasive. A feeding tube is pushed through a bore in the gag and down her esophagus, terminating and anchoring in her stomach.

As time passes, the subject receives more orgasms at the fingers of the Dea and the liquid nourishment infused with her own emissions is pressed into the tube. The gag and the tube are slightly porous and with every feeding she tastes her own arousal.

Phase 3.

The subject awakens eventually to find she is no longer in charge of her own breathing. Tubes have been passed through her nose, down her trachea, into her lungs and a finely tuned machine inflates and pulls forth air in a measured and closely monitored manner. The air is humidified by the effluence of her sex and the scent wafts through the porous tubes in her nose - a perfume that gains and recedes over time always reminding her of the pleasures associated with it.

Plumbing has also been installed down below. A catheter has been extended into her bladder and her urine is now routed into her stoppered rectum where it is stored until an enema is utilized to flush all her wastes clear on a scheduled and frequent basis. The tubing materials are conductive and an extremely mild current powered by the subject's own body heat travels around providing a constant pleasant buzzing sensation. The tasks of human waste are no longer the subject's concern.

Phase 4.

Surprisingly, of all the phases, this is the most impactful - the removal of the blindfold. The subject has just quietly endured another mind-blowing orgasm and her muscles are slowly relaxing. Dea Dammasch reaches up to the head harness, unlocks the buckle and slips the pad from over the subject's eyes.

In a sense, this is the first moment when the subject looks upon the Goddess who gives her life. As an observer I prefer to focus upon the subject's eyes as they are slowly uncovered. They blink several times, focusing for the first time in some while - a green glow cast upon her face. I suppose she had some expectations as to what she would see when the blindfold is pulled away. But no expectation could ever meet the reality of gazing upon the Dea. Some would suggest that the first look is one of horror. But, I think that it is more akin to surprise. No mortal experience, after all, could prepare one to gaze upon the visage of their Goddess. She is the most beautiful being they will ever see and they will long for every chance they may get to see her again for the rest of time.

Dea Dammasch, aeternum amorem et obsequium meum spondeo.

<>--+-

"I don't even know how to say this," Charity said, then she started crying.

She was sitting at the table with Hope. The asylum fetters were sitting on the table between them as well as the hoodie and sweatpants Hope had worn while she was there. Hope was eyeing them stoically.

"So, Detective Tumalo, you know, 'Bitch', as we have called her," Charity started.

"Bitth..." Hope nodded.

"Yeah, Bitch, she wants to take you from me," Charity said, tears falling more thickly. Hope obviously did not understand.

Charity pointed at Hope, then she pointed at the fetters and clothes. "Bitch wants you. You will have to put these on. She wants you in her cage."

Hope shook her head. "Hh-oe luhh Chai-ree. Hh-oe no luhh Bitth. Mi-ah(tock)oo-nah. I you caehh."

"I love you too," Charity said. "They're making me... they're making me..." Charity couldn't say anymore. Her voice was broken and tears were running down her face. Hope took Charity's hand. She stepped around the table and motioned for Charity to hug her. She turned her back to Charity and shuffled back so Charity could safely wrap her arms around her without cutting herself on any skin spikes.

"How do I communicate that I am being forced to do this?" Charity said out loud. Hopefully they still had a few more days together, before she had to take Hope back to the asylum.

Two hours later, Charity sat in her living room in deep meditation... "I'm going to have to move into the asylum with Hope somehow," she was saying to herself. Maybe Perit would allow it. Would she be put in shackles to move from room to room? Would she be strip searched? What would they say about her chastity belt? What if she started to 'forget' major things like Blue predicted? Would she become Perit's patient? Would they lock Charity in the same room as Hope? Why was she getting so horny, just thinking about this?

The ringing of chains heralded Hope's arrival into the living room and Charity quickly moved her hands away from her aching breasts. How could Charity be conscientious about her own arousal when Hope pranced around completely naked all the time? Maybe it was because she was fantasizing being locked in a cage with Hope...

Hope was carrying the measuring cup full of green gloop from the previous night as well as the clothes that Charity had discarded. Charity was surprised and slightly concerned that Hope would go out naked into the backyard in full daylight.

She walked to where Charity sat and knelt before her, holding the measuring cup up to Charity like some sort of offering. She said some words, bowing her head towards the floor.

"Hello to you too... um... I guess," Charity said.

Hope stood up again and took Charity's hand pulling her to her feet as well. Hope began speaking at length pointing at the measuring cup and Charity and herself.

"Ok... I'm not going to have to eat that, am I?" Charity asked, pointing at her mouth, which made Hope laugh.

"No! No eah!" Hope said. She raised the measuring cup to her face and used her hand to fan the air near the rim. She breathed deeply through nose, lifting her head back with her eyes closed and a somewhat dreamy, ecstatic set to her face.

She held the cup towards Charity. "I'm not going to get stoned, am I?" Hope encouraged Charity to smell the contents. Charity took a quick sniff - very woodsy, fresh, clean. She felt a popping sensation in her nose. She hadn't even realized that her sinuses were mildly swollen until suddenly they weren't and she could breathe so easily and feely. She felt a rush in her entire body.

"Wow! That really cleared me up," Charity said.

Hope smiled and nodded. She raised her arms wide, looked up, and started talking.

Charity looked up at the ceiling, but quickly deduced that Hope seemed to be praying or giving thanks to a higher power - whatever that might mean to Hope.

Hope then looked at Charity. She lowered her arms, but then slowly slid her hands up along her hips, across her waist, briefly cupping and raising her breasts. She continued lifting her arms higher and higher until her hands were straight over her head.

"You!" she said and glanced up towards her hands.

Charity raised her arms just like Hope had. Hope reached down and tugged Charity's t-shirt up, pulling it over her head and throwing it off to the side. She then tugged gently at Charity's pajama shorts. Charity let Hope slip them over her hips. Charity was now naked, except for the chastity belt.

Hope was speaking directly to Charity. She held up one finger, occasionally glancing up and distinctly pointing. She picked up the measuring cup of green sludge. She looked at her metal tipped finger and shook her head, "No Hh-oe! Chai-ree!"

Charity held up her right hand with her forefinger extended. Hope grabbed Charity's hand and dipped it into the measuring cup gathering a large dollop of sticky, green paste on Charity's finger. Hope then lifted Charity's hand up to Hope's forehead and drew a thick smear from hair line to brow. Next, Hope forced Charity's hand lower and drew a second swath from navel down to just above the sharp spikes extending from her clitoral hood.

She shoved Charity's hand in the measuring cup again, gathered more of the green goop and directed Charity's hand to paint the same lines again on her own body - the lower line truncated somewhat by the top edge of the chastity belt.

Hope turned skyward again, said a few words and then motioned with her hands like something descending from above into the room. As she did it Charity actually felt a surge of tingling or energy of some sort originate from the top of her head, pass down her torso and settle deep in her sex. "Whoa!!"

Hope held up two fingers, then pointed to herself: "Oh (pop) ee ay o tok (click) oh thu hye-th (pop) (click) ee an yo eh heat eh (click) un thorhina."