"Maggie" 

H. Jekyll

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Copyright by H. Jekyll.  Permission is freely granted 
to post on any site that does not charge for 
entrance, as long as proper attribution is given to 
the author.  The story should not be read by anyone 
under the legal age to read sexually explicit 
stories, or by anyone in a location where it is 
illegal to read such stories.  

I appreciate comments and inquiries, even criticisms.  
All authors do.  Please send them to:  
h_jekyll2000@yahoo.com.

My stories are archived in the Authors' section of 
the Alt Sex Stories Text Repository, at:  
ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/h_jekyll/

This is a revised version of the story I posted for 
the ASSTR story festival.  I dedicate it to Maggie 
McGee, my editor and the focus of the story.  I won't 
reveal if the story is completely, or even partially, 
true.  I wrote it as a vignette for Maggie some 
months back, and she insisted that I submit it for 
the festival.

MF, BD, con. 

=======================================

You have known from our earliest correspondence that 
I have a dark side, that I really am a Doctor Jekyll 
and Mister Hyde.  I think you were seduced by that 
knowledge.  That must be why we kept returning to the 
dark stories, exploring their power, edging toward 
practice.  Still, how was I able to persuade you that 
we should meet in person, to play a "game" of 
domination?  Were we prepared for the passion when we 
could see and touch each other?

Is your memory of it all the same as mine?  Does the 
memory excite you as much as it does me?  Do you 
remember it this way?

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

We met, and after I told you my fantasy you agreed to 
be bound.  I was excited, the impetuous male, but 
your excitement was mixed with doubt.  How uncertain 
were you?  How reluctant?  Your agreement 
demonstrated the level of trust between us;  if it 
weren't solid, you never would have gone through with 
this, letting yourself be under my control, but I 
could tell you were close to calling it off 
nonetheless.  

You came even closer when I got reckless.  You have 
told me repeatedly that you don't find pain erotic, 
but I slowed everything down to tell you that along 
with being bound you had to know that I could hurt 
you, that even loving you I would find it arousing to 
hurt you.  

I wanted to take away your sense of security, to make 
the game more dangerous, more thrilling.  Would this 
end it?  There was time to reconsider.  Or were you 
high enough to experience a frisson at knowing the 
safety net was gone?  Ecstasy!  I was right.  The 
thrill moved through your belly and overcame your 
judgment long enough for my purposes.

Quickly now!  Don't allow second thoughts.  I 
stripped you with kisses and caresses, telling you I 
love you.  You were both anxious and excited, like 
you had been since I installed the hook and chain 
over the closet door, but higher, more needy.  You 
kept glancing at them, then back to me.  I don't 
think you considered how to remove them after I left.  
No, only what I would do with them.  You were 
breathing so fast by then that I feared you might 
hyperventilate, but the fear became excitement when I 
considered that you would be dizzy and maybe 
disoriented.

I had a pair of sleeves that I had found in a sex 
shop somewhere, like nothing you'd ever seen.  They 
were black velvet tubes that fit from your wrists to 
your elbows and all along them were eyelets intended 
for lacing.  When I slipped them on you they were 
incredibly soft moving up your forearms, softer when 
on completely, still soft as I laced them with 
leather laces, all the way up, and tied them off.  I 
did everything slowly.  

You had been wordless until now, one of the rules of 
our game, but when you saw how the sleeves looked 
with your skin as a foil, you exclaimed: "They're 
beautiful, Henry!  I never thought I could feel so 
sexy." 

You wanted to go on but I shushed you:  "Don't talk, 
Maggie. You're my girl and must be still for me." 
Yes, I did tell you *were* sexy in them, Maggie, 
sexual, and that you would be even more sexual and 
beautiful when you were immobilized.

You were as right as anyone could be.  I shushed you 
as part of the game, but your hands were pale and 
feminine coming out of the velvet;  your body too.  

Several rings were sewn into the sleeves, along with 
a clip that let me secure your hands together.  In 
the same shop where I had found the black velvet 
sleeves, I found a length of black velvet rope that 
tied beautifully into a ring, and with which I walked 
you to the closet door.  It took only a moment to 
thread it through the chain and pull your arms up.

You had thought there would be more ceremony.

I remember it perfectly.  You were facing out toward 
the bedroom, your arms stretched over your head, 
almost completely off the floor, standing on tip-
toes.  I'm stronger than you had expected, and it was 
so easy for me to lift you.  It was easy to see that 
this made you more anxious, and hotter.  Anyone could 
tell it.  

You've read my stories and know that this is a 
position I like to use for my women, my victims, so 
you weren't surprised when I spread your legs and 
tied your feet, with more velvet rope, to screw-rings 
I'd installed at the sides of the closet doorway.  
You weren't uncomfortable, but you could hardly move.  

I'm not sure why I waited until then to strip.  I do 
remember that the feeling in my penis while tying you 
was almost profound.  My dick was larger than I can 
remember it growing in years.  My chest was tight, 
and I had to take large breaths before I could talk.  

We kissed, rich and delicious kisses, and I played 
with your body.  My cock was pressed against your 
belly.  I recall little sounds that you made in the 
back of your throat and I remember asking myself if 
it was time to move beyond what you expected.

Yes.  I went to a leather satchel on the bed, took 
out a roll of black cloth, and brought it to you.  I 
couldn't wait for you to see what it held.  I 
couldn't wait to see your face when you saw.

It held a series of bright, stainless steel tools:  
skewers, scalpels, long pins, pliers, scissors.  They 
gleamed beautifully.

I let you look at them for a moment.  You almost 
stopped breathing.  

Finally you said something, but you said it without 
the breath to push it, and I could barely hear you:  
"Wait a minute.  What are you doing, Henry?  I don't 
think I want to do this."

"Maggie, love, these are just in case.  You need to 
be obedient and quiet.  I don't want you talking at 
all.  Do you understand?" 

Your mouth was open a little.  Your eyes were large.  
You couldn't disguise your sudden fear, though you 
tried To act brave.  What were you thinking now?  You 
didn't say anything more at all, but you nodded.

"Good.  You can make noises.  In fact, I'd like you 
to.  But no words.  The other thing is that you have 
to do everything I tell you.  Everything.  Do you 
understand that, Mags?"

Again you nodded.  You stared and stared at the 
tools, then stared in my eyes.  The room was deathly 
silent, so silent I could hear the clock ticking from 
out in the living room. Nothing in my whole life was 
more charged than that moment.  I was afraid I might 
come without even touching my penis, and I've never 
in my life done that.

I put the tools away.  I didn't want to break the 
spell, but it was time to continue.  When I returned 
we began kissing again.  It wasn't as before, though.  
No, you were going through the motions at first, just 
trying not to antagonize me, acting like a victim, 
feeling like a victim, fearful like a victim.  

It was the first time you had ever felt any real fear 
of me, and it was slow to evaporate.  But I was 
kissing you and caressing you and you finally must 
have decided that it was just part of the game, and 
your passion returned, actually sweeping over you 
like a wave.  I sensed the change in your kissing and 
your body when it happened.

The doorway was wide enough that I could move all the 
way around you easily.  I tied a soft blindfold over 
your eyes, then begin circling you.  I touched you 
everywhere, brushing your skin with my nails, licking 
you, giving you little bites.  I love underarms, so 
of course I nibbled on yours, both sides.  I sucked 
your nipples, then ran my tongue around and around 
them.  I played with your pussy.  I knelt and licked 
you there.  I wanted to get you higher, as high as 
possible;  blindfolded and immobile, not knowing 
where the sensations would come next, waiting.  Where 
next?  There.  There.

I left you for a minute, left you wondering and 
waiting, your body moving a little this way and that, 
left you frustrated, to get some mentholated 
petrolatum so I could push a greased finger up into 
your ass.  Oh that changed your motions!  You gasped 
and begin to twist about.  You were thrashing, 
Maggie, but your arms and legs couldn't move.  Oh, it 
is too strong!  It burns.  No, no it doesn't.  

No indeed.  Once you knew it wouldn't hurt you it 
pulled your passion up another notch.  I spread more 
mentholated grease on your pussy and your nipples.  
It was both hot and cold, of course;  but you were 
just hot.

You were so easy, Maggie.  You had never been tied, 
never played this game, so everything was new to you, 
and you got excited so quickly that you made deep 
moaning sounds when I merely tongued your navel or 
nipped you on the waist.  Had you wanted this all 
your years and not known it?  Was it a new land that 
held an entrancement you hadn't imagined?

You wanted to ask me to do specific things, but you 
couldn't because I wouldn't let you talk, and even 
this excited you.  I moved fingers back and forth 
through your slippery labia.  I was still circling 
you, Maggie, touching you at different places all the 
time.  You must have thought I'd bring you off 
without first making you dance.  Were you surprised 
when I stopped all at once?

I stopped touching your nipples or pussy.  I touched 
you everywhere else, but not there.  I let my fingers 
and mouth get oh, so close, but no touching.  I got 
right to your areoles.  I barely caressed the outside 
of your labia.  You became frustrated, my love.  I 
could read your mind:  don't leave me this high.  You 
tried to move your body toward my hands and my mouth, 
and you made sounds of frustration.

Finally you did it.  You said:  "Sweet heaven, are 
you going to take all day, Jekyll, love?"

I stopped entirely, stepped apart from you, and stood 
quietly for a moment before I put my mouth to your 
ear.  It was important to let you know you'd broken 
my rules.

"Oh, that's my sassy Mags, isn't it?  Of course now 
I'm going to have to hurt you, darling.  I'll try not 
to enjoy it too much." 

At that you stood completely still.  No talking.  Not 
even any breathing at first.  Your mouth looked funny 
and I thought you might cry.  I stepped to you and 
kissed your lips, to stop the trembling.

"Do what I say, my love."

We started kissing together and you acted wild for my 
mouth.

Now I did touch your nipples.  I tweaked them between 
thumbs and fingers, thumbs moving up and fingers 
moving down, making them grow.  I sucked on your 
nipples, then moved slowly down your front, nipping 
on the white of your breasts, kissing your stomach, 
nibbling at your waist, going down, down to your sex.  
I held you by your ass and hips and moved my mouth 
into you and slathered you with my tongue.

The tension, being caught between fear and desire, 
was too much for you.  You started to come and cried 
out loudly.  You kept crying out.

Then I entered you.  Because I am so much taller than 
you I had to half-kneel to do it;  with everything 
else that was happening, I still remember the 
awkwardness of it.  I held on to the black velvet 
rope over your head, fucking upwards into you.  But 
you, my God, I've never seen or heard a woman so 
explosively orgasmic.  

When I came, and it only took a minute, my legs went 
out from under me, and I had to hold myself up 
completely by my arms, almost slipping down.

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

We had a quiet dinner, touching now and then, giving 
little kisses out of the blue.  

You were drawn to the little bundle of tools.  I 
didn't want you to open it, and tried to stop you, 
but you insisted and soon understood my reluctance;  
you didn't even try to hide your disappointment that 
they were just painted plastic.  I heard you whisper, 
"You devil!" 

Later that evening, because the days are long, we 
took a walk along the River Road, arms around waists, 
hand in hand, mouth on mouth, and I did kiss your 
hair like I had written I wanted to, long ago.
