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From: "H. Jekyll" <h_jekyll2000@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Obsession,"  Part Four
Date: Wed,  6 Dec 2000 15:10:05 -0500
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"Obsession"

by H. Jekyll

Part Four

---------------------

This is a six-part story of evil and desire.  It is a 
cautionary tale. "Jekyll" is not to be confused with 
H. Jekyll, the mild-mannered author, nor is "Kytn" to 
be confused with my e-friend Sweetkytn (@aol.com).

I am indebted to my editor, Maggie McGee 
(maggiemc@citynet.net), for her heroic efforts to 
make my writing clean and direct.

Copyright 2000 by H. Jekyll.  Permission is given to 
repost on any web site that does not charge a fee for 
access, as long as the author is prominently noted.

Net writers post stories for feedback, not money, and 
I am no different from anyone else.  I welcome 
comments, complaints, and conversation, at 
h_jekyll2000@yahoo.com.   My stories are archived at 
the Alt Sex Stories Text Repository: 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/h_jekyll/

M/F, F/F, bdsm, cons., nc

-----------------------

Once Kytn has been fed, has spent a period reciting 
her lines, has been bathed and tied to her bed to 
sleep, Jekyll assesses her.

Kytn is tiny, what once had been called "a mere slip 
of a girl."  Her strongest feature is her 
slenderness.  His thumb and index finger have room to 
spare when they circle a wrist.  She is so tiny at 
the waist that he thinks if he put one hand on her 
stomach and the other at the small of her back, his 
hands could almost touch;  so tiny that if he were in 
her pussy or her ass and squeezed those hands 
together, he would almost feel the squeezing on his 
penis.  It delights him that this tiny body can take 
such abuse;  he becomes roused just thinking about 
it.  It is better than with a large woman. 

Kytn's breasts are not large or memorable.  Her pubic 
hair is light brown, almost straight, almost mousy, 
and not at all bushy.  She is not muscled.  Even with 
her welts her body looks almost pubescent, simply 
sweet, but Jekyll knows that looks can deceive.  He 
knows what she has done.  Still, it is much better to 
dominate something so innocent-looking, not a jaded 
whore or some highly toned athlete but something 
unspoiled.  It is his job to spoil it. 

With this consideration, something moves within 
Jekyll's mind, something shifts;  he begins to think 
of her not as the object of a cycle of pleasure and 
pain, delight and torment, but of pain and torment 
only.  He can do as he will.  He wonders how long he 
could torment her before she fell into decline.  This 
change of thought doesn't come instantly, not like 
the clack inside a doll's head when the eyes open.  
No, it is more as though membranes are pulled out of 
the way, one after the other, until the thought is 
uncovered and becomes clear.  It is just as 
inexorable, though.  He finds the thought 
interesting, fascinating, irresistible.

--------------------------

So it is that he removes her blindfold the next day 
and holds a scalpel in front of her eyes, so that its 
gleam is the first thing she recognizes when she can 
focus again.  It is time to transform her body. 

"My sweet Kytn, you will be a work of art." 

He is going to carve a figure on her, a large, 
complex figure.  He wants luck with her, that she 
will last for him and therefore help his pleasure 
flow a long time.  What brings luck?  He decides to 
carve a dragon.

He makes her watch, warning her not to move or to cry 
out.  He has a bet with himself about how long she 
can manage, and he hasn't decided just yet how to 
punish her when she fails.

She is his canvas, but not a still one.  She shivers 
as he begins carving flesh, pulling the scalpel blade 
ever so gently across her, using just enough pressure 
to cut, hardly enough to draw blood.  Sometimes not 
enough pressure to draw blood, but enough that she 
can feel herself being cut.  He draws the curved 
figure of the dragon, then its fins, then its wings, 
then its scales.  He is a talented artist.  The head 
goes over her right breast, her  areola its eye, and 
her nipple its red pupil.  He  stops to lick away 
some blood, licking her slowly along the lines he has 
cut into her.  He draws the details of its feet.  It 
is slow and meticulous work.  Across her belly, he 
draws the flame roaring from its mouth, and he cuts 
more deeply here to give the flame a flowing redness.

Kytn holds herself rigidly, shaking but not flopping, 
keening continuously through the gag.  Foam and snot 
cover her face;  her eyes are insane. 

"Be careful, Kytn.  You wouldn't want me to slip, now 
would you?  To ruin my lovely etching?"

As he speaks he is moving the blade over a fatty 
area, near her hip.  He grins at her and pushes the 
blade into her, in, in, and Kytn can't help 
convulsing and shrieking as loudly as the gag will 
allow, loudly enough that it would have hurt his ears 
if her mouth were free.  When he pulls the blade out 
there opens a half-inch long, deep, rhomboid-shaped 
slit that fills with almost black blood, then 
overflows.  He sips at it, his penis waving around 
now like a wand, making magic.

After letting it bleed awhile, he tapes the cut shut. 

He wants some more pleasure now, even if it will 
delay his masterpiece, so he removes her gag and has 
her suck on him.  She is completely passive and 
obedient.  He knows this lack of will is common in 
victims of torture, and it so pleases him to find it 
in her that he almost comes before he is ready.  He 
has to pull out for a moment, to slow things down, 
before letting her pleasure his meat and give him 
maximum joy.  After he pulls out she shows him the 
semen on her tongue, before swallowing.  Finally he 
returns to his art.  Kytn's moans are quieter.

--------------------------

The rest of the day he makes her practice her 
obedience recitation, punishing her with pins when 
she falters.  After some hours he wraps a wet rag 
around her face and slowly tightens it so that she 
cannot get enough air.  When she finally passes out 
he brings her around and makes her start reciting 
again.  He feeds her a minimal amount of food, 
something meaty, which she must earn by licking his 
ass, pushing her tongue up into him and sucking at 
him.  She is so ravenous that even this does not keep 
her from trying to wolf the meal;  he makes her eat 
slowly, a round of recitation between bites.

He ties her elbows together tightly behind her back, 
as tightly as he thinks can without dislocating her 
shoulders.  He braids her hair.  Kytn is left for a 
moment while he goes to do something, then he is back 
with lengths of clothesline tied to large metal 
hooks.  The hooks go through her hair, and in a 
moment he has threaded the rope through a pulley and 
has pulled her up by her scalp.

This is so painful that she cannot keep from 
screaming and writhing, even when she vomits her 
dinner down her front.  She is not able to say her 
lines through the pain.  He leaves her hanging there, 
her scalp pulled out from her skull, until she loses 
consciousness.

By the time he lets her down, the person Jekyll has 
become a god to her, a demon in human form, not of 
this world.

--------------------------

The next day he lets her walk around the building, 
following him as he putters, her arms strapped behind 
her painfully, a leash at her neck.  He has given her 
an enema, which she must work to keep from spilling. 

He has told her that in 90 minutes he will hurt her 
again.  She cannot keep herself from watching the 
clock.  How will he do it this time?  He has promised 
to hurt her until she passes out.  When he told her, 
she couldn't help whimpering and crying, though he 
commanded her to think of the joy the hurting brings 
him.

--------------------------

Days have passed.  Kytn is strapped to the bed, 
blindfolded, as usual.  Jekyll has been gentle with 
her, caressing for the first time in eons, and 
obediently she loves him.  She can't help herself.  
He says he will give her sexual pleasure, almost to 
orgasm but no more.  If she wants orgasm she must pay 
for it by accepting a severe whipping.  Does she 
understand?

His word is always good.  He caresses her sex, plays 
with her sex.  He licks her vagina slowly.  At first 
there is nothing inside her, no response.  Everything 
besides the monotony of breathing and the need to 
love him has been driven from her body.  She will 
never again feel pleasure, she thinks.  She doesn't 
want to feel pleasure. 

He is patient, though.  He goes about his task with 
slow deliberation, and after awhile, where there had 
been only a wasted, writhing victim, knowing only 
emptiness, there is a spark of desire.  Only a spark, 
but he works it the way a mountain man would a spark 
from a flint, gently and steadily, to make the fire 
that will warm him all night.  It works that way with 
Ktyn.  After a length of time that could be minutes 
or hours, she feels the pleasure grow, slowly, then 
explosively, until she is aflame.  She cannot resist. 

She feels it, and she lies quietly to let tendrils of 
pleasure move up her belly. 

How can he do this?  She is reminded yet again that 
his power is not of this world.  After awhile she is 
so aroused that she moves her sex against his face, 
moans, and cries, because she knows he will use her 
pleasure against her.  She will never be allowed to 
come.  Still, she cannot help herself, and says 
"please." 

He takes her higher, using just his lips on her 
clitoris until she approaches the crest.  He keeps 
her there, keeps her whimpering, loving her inability 
to control herself.  Then, he stops. 

"Now, Kytn. Are you ready to trade pain for your 
pleasure?  Say 'yes' and you have explosive pleasure 
in store."

Her mind and body argue the question.  No, please 
dear God don't do this!  Not in trade for the whip!  
Don't make me decide.  Without using any words, 
though, her body almost wins.

She finally makes herself say, "No, Master Jekyll, 
thank you," and he answers, "Very well," and leaves 
her.  He closes the door behind him, so she is alone, 
immobile and sightless, her pleasure draining away 
only very slowly, unconsummated.

She lies there for an hour before he returns to renew 
the soft strokes on her sex, the sucking on her 
nipples, the tickling of her anus.  It takes almost 
no time to re-inflame her.  When she is back to the 
crest, he stops and has her suck his prick, to give 
himself some relief.  After she swallows he caresses 
her again.

He says something, a line she had always thought 
hackneyed:  "I will make your body sing."

He is doing that to her.  No one else has made her 
body sing, ever.  Her muscles, her nerves, everything 
is seeking the crescendo. 

As before, he stops at her crest and asks her the 
question.  Again she manages to turn down the offer, 
and he leaves her miserably aroused.

The next hour is the same.  Her desire never 
completely ends between sessions, so he gets her high 
very easily.  When he leaves she moans and cries to 
herself and tries to bring her thighs together, to 
twitch her sex, anything to finish herself and save 
her from what she knows she will do soon.

Finally, when he has brought her close to orgasm for 
the fourth time and puts the question to her, she 
cannot stand the thought of the pleasure slipping 
away, of having been so close to sexual paradise 
without feeling it.

She says, "Yes, Master Jekyll, please finish me."

His word is always good.  He sucks and licks at her 
very softly, letting her build even more, not 
finishing quickly, stopping up the kettle to build 
pressure, softly licking her, until she is thrashing 
as much as she can while strapped down.  She is 
begging, "please, now, now," tears dripping out from 
under the blindfold, but he just continues doing her 
softly, keeping her on a high plateau, loving these 
cries and these pleas as much as those of the 
hurting, until finally, finally, finally she feels 
the first preliminary vibrations way down in her 
belly that announce the rush to come, and then she is 
all spasms, jerking, screaming loudly. 

It continues on and on while he keeps licking her 
softly and she spins weightlessly in space;  then it 
is done and she sinks deep into the mattress, 
hyperventilating, covered in sweat, overwhelmed with 
her love for him. 

After a bit he gets a whip and uses it methodically 
on her.  Not on her front -- he doesn't want to mar 
the dragon.  He unties her so she can kneel at the 
bed, arms reaching across to the other side, and then 
he gives her back, ass, and thighs one hard stroke 
every thirty seconds, for half an hour.  He has to 
bring her around twice during it, to get her to 
experience it fully.  

She cannot make herself lie still for the beating, so 
he has to tie her.  Afterwards, she sucks him again, 
half-conscious, her back-half on fire, whimpers 
escaping quietly around his cock. 



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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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