Caught in Time
Copyright© 2025 by SpankLord40k
Chapter 2
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 2 - Elara must endure a brutal, endless cycle of humiliation, trapped in a nightmare orchestrated by the people around her. Their cruelty, fueled by a mysterious curse that binds them all. But a subtle change suggests that this cycle may finally be broken. This story weaves together multiple universes, parallel realities, magic, and harrowing themes such as sexual violence and brutal punishment. This is my first ever story, so bear with me and enjoy. Note that this story builds up slow.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Teenagers NonConsensual Rape Slavery Heterosexual Fiction Horror School Science Fiction Time Travel Paranormal Magic Incest Mother BDSM DomSub MaleDom FemaleDom Humiliation Rough Sadistic Spanking Torture Gang Bang Group Sex Orgy Black Male White Male White Female Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration First Facial Fisting Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys Squirting Tit-Fucking Water Sports Body Modification Public Sex Teacher/Student Nudism Revenge AI Generated
Big thanks to CaptainPig for helping me polish this story!
The morning after the ballet class, Sunday dawned with a heavy, oppressive quietude. Elara lay in her bed, every muscle aching, every inch of her skin feeling bruised and tender. Her backside throbbed with a dull, persistent pain, a stark reminder of the previous day’s public humiliation and the additional punishment at home. But it wasn’t just the pain that kept her awake. It was the other sensation, the one that had erupted amidst the agony and shame, the terrifying, exhilarating climax at her mother’s hands. It had been her first. And the memory of it, the shocking, visceral intensity, was a burning ember in her mind, refusing to be extinguished.
She shifted, wincing as her tender bottom brushed against the sheets. The memory of the finger-fucking, of her own body’s betrayal, sent a fresh wave of shame and heat through her. She felt disgusting, violated, yet a strange, almost magnetic pull lingered. Her body, independent of her mind, remembered the intense pleasure that had exploded through her. It was a dichotomy she couldn’t reconcile.
Slowly, hesitantly, Elara reached under her pillow. Her fingers closed around the familiar, smooth handle of her wooden hairbrush. The same brush Vivienne had used to inflict so much pain. A shiver ran through her, a mixture of dread and a perverse curiosity. She knew it was wrong, knew it was a direct defiance of everything her mother demanded, but the compulsion was overwhelming.
She pulled down her pajama bottoms and underwear, her breath catching in her throat. Her backside was a mottled landscape of angry red and purpling bruises. She touched it gingerly, wincing at the tenderness. But it was her front, her intimately sensitive flesh, that held her attention. The delicate skin was still slightly swollen, still exquisitely sensitive from the previous day’s violation.
With trembling fingers, Elara carefully positioned the handle of the hairbrush against her clitoris. It was smooth, cool against her inflamed skin. She closed her eyes, a wave of guilt washing over her, immediately followed by a sharp, unbidden flicker of sensation. She began to move the brush, slowly at first, then with increasing pressure and speed. Each stroke sent a jolt through her, a mix of the forbidden and the familiar, echoes of yesterday’s overwhelming climax. She bit her lip, suppressing a moan, acutely aware of the thin walls of her room. The friction built, a delicious, consuming heat spreading through her core. Her hips began to rock instinctively, a primal rhythm taking over. The shame was a bitter taste in her mouth, but the rising tide of sensation threatened to drown it out entirely. She arched her back, pressing harder, desperate to chase that elusive, terrifying peak once more. Her breathing grew shallow, ragged, her body humming with a desperate anticipation. She could feel the tell-tale dampness spreading, her pussy juice a shameful testament to her body’s inherent, unwanted desire.
Just as the tremors began to build, just as her body tensed on the brink of another shattering release, the door to her room burst open.
“Elara Seraphina Vance! What in the name of all that is pure do you think you are doing?!”
Vivienne stood framed in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock and then narrowing with a terrifying, cold fury. Her gaze swept from Elara’s trembling, half-naked form, to the hairbrush clutched in her hand, and then to the tell-tale dampness seeping through her pajamas. The sight ignited a firestorm in Vivienne’s eyes.
Elara froze, the brush clattering to the floor. Her face drained of all color, her heart leaping into her throat. Humiliation, sharp and immediate, pierced through the lingering arousal, leaving her utterly exposed and terrified.
Vivienne crossed the room in three swift strides, her movements sharp and decisive. She snatched the hairbrush from the floor, her expression a mask of disgust. “How dare you? How utterly depraved! To defile yourself in such a manner! And with this!” She held up the brush, as if it were a venomous snake.
“Mom, I ... I didn’t... “ Elara stammered, scrambling to pull up her pajamas, her hands shaking so violently she could barely grasp the fabric.
“Silence!” Vivienne’s voice was a whip-crack. “Do you have any idea of the damage you could have done? Your hymen, Elara! Your precious innocence! You could have torn it, destroyed it! And for what? For this filthy, disgusting pleasure you seek from yourself?” Her voice was laced with an almost visceral revulsion.
She grabbed Elara, pulling her roughly over her knee. This was not the measured, deliberate spanking of yesterday. This was pure, unadulterated rage. Elara cried out as the first blow landed, Vivienne’s open hand striking her already tender, bruised bottom with brutal force. SMACK! “You do not touch yourself like this!” SMACK! “You wait! You wait for a man! A worthy man, who will take your virginity, not this sordid self-abuse!” SMACK! Each blow landed with a sickening impact, fresh waves of excruciating pain layering onto the existing tenderness. Elara screamed, tears instantly gushing, her body thrashing against her mother’s knee. “My ass hurts, Mom! Please, no more!”
“It should hurt!” Vivienne snarled, her voice tight with fury. “It should hurt until you understand the gravity of your actions! Do you know what a man expects, Elara? Purity! And you were defiling yourself, jeopardizing everything!” SMACK! SMACK! Her hands came down again and again, a relentless battery that left Elara sobbing uncontrollably, her body wracked with pain and shame. The initial marks from yesterday were reopened, a fiery agony burning across her entire backside.
Finally, Vivienne pulled her up, her grip tight on Elara’s arm. Elara stumbled, barely able to stand, her legs trembling violently. “This is unacceptable,” Vivienne said, her voice now dangerously calm, “We are going to rectify this. Immediately. I am calling Dr. Schmidt. We will ascertain the damage you have done. And you will learn, Elara, that your body is not your own to do with as you please.”
Elara’s heart sank. Dr. Schmidt, the stern, unsmiling OB-GYN Vivienne had insisted on for her annual check-ups since she was fourteen. The very thought of another examination filled Elara with dread, especially after this.
Vivienne was already on the phone, her voice crisp and formal, explaining the “emergency” to the receptionist. “Yes, an immediate appointment. My daughter has unfortunately ... engaged in some highly inappropriate activity and I am gravely concerned about her hymenal integrity.” She glanced at Elara, her eyes cold and condemning.