"Obsession"

Part Three

H. Jekyll

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

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: ftp://ftp.asstr. 
org/pub/Authors/h_jekyll/

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

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

Kytn is aware of a presence.  She is hearing herself, 
far away, muttering something, "his will commands 
me," and somehow she knows Jekyll must be near her, 
though she has heard nothing.  She still stands with 
her hands pulled over her head, blindfolded, but she 
sags in the ropes now.  Her shoulders hurt.  Her feet 
are sore and tired.  She has to pee.  She doesn't 
remember if she has been reciting or sleeping, or 
both.  She tries to recall where she is, but the 
thought is elusive. 

"Be still now, Kytn." 

She stops trying to remember her lines.  She needs to 
pee, then to sleep.  

"You stopped your obedience exercise some time back, 
Kytn, so it's time to punish you and take my 
pleasure."

Now she is awake, now she is aware.  She stands 
upright on those poor feet and moves her head around, 
sniffing and straining to find where he is, the 
direction of the hurting to come. 

"Please, Master Jekyll, please, I tried.  I'll do 
better, I promise.  Listen.  I must obey . . ."

He makes her stop.  He moves right up to her, so she 
can feel the heat off his body.  His hands run over 
her again.  He again tickles, plucks her nipples, 
circles her pudendum, making her focus on the beauty 
of what he can do with his hands.  She is so tired 
that this will make her sleep, and maybe in her sleep 
have sexual dreams, but she still has a full bladder, 
that announces itself with urgency. 

"Please, Master Jekyll, I need to go badly."

She is talking in scarcely more than a whisper.  

"That can wait.  Did I tell you to talk?  No?  Well, 
now you will talk.  I'm going to use this belt to 
punish you.  Twenty strokes.  You'll count each one.  
Then you can use the bathroom.  Now count."

The belt makes a rushing sound, and as she finds the 
direction of the sound it hits her breasts and she 
screams.  She thinks they must be split open. 

"Count."

"One.  Oh, Master Jekyll, please, no."

Another rush of the air before the belt slaps her 
hip. 

"No begging.  Now count."

When did she lose her water?  At some point he whips 
her thigh where urine has streamed down, sending a 
fine mist with a heavy urine smell.  It must have 
been about eighteen, because soon he is finished.  He 
decides to fuck her. 

"Nothing like fucking a pussy soaked with piss," he 
says, and he pushes his penis into her for the first 
time.  She is crying and twisting with her twenty 
welts.  She can tell, vaguely, that he is naked, and 
his body hurts hers as he rubs up and down against 
her.  It doesn't take him long at all to come. 

"Well, a nice way to start the new day, no? " 

She is just hanging, gasping for breath, and moaning 
instead of crying.  

"Now start practicing your lines again.  We have a 
long day ahead of us."

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

She cannot tell how long she has practiced.  She 
cannot continue.  She cannot remember.  She is lost 
in her blindfold.  Every few minutes she drifts and 
loses track, then no matter how hard she tries to 
make it up he comes over to hurt her again and make 
her start over. 

She notices that he is saying something again How 
long has he been talking to her?  She forgets his 
voice.  Hers is reciting.  What is it saying?  She 
will hang here forever, sagging in the ropes, 
drifting more than reciting, giving only the briefest 
response to the lash before drifting again.  She is 
reciting  What is she saying? 

She feels his body against hers, but only barely, 
knows that the ropes are gone though not how they 
disappeared.  She is being held up by his arms, 
certainly not by any effort of her own, and she is 
asleep before he lays her on the bed. 

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

Dreamless sleep, but not empty.  There are movements 
and sound, as though a thousand dancers and as many 
choruses sweep through, dance through, talk through.  
Just no faces, no text, no shapes, nothing to 
remember later, nothing to build a story around.  
Kytn feels no pain or pleasure, so deep is she. 

Now there is something.  Something begins, a sexual 
dream, a dream of pleasure.  She dreams Jekyll is 
loving her, his hands are loving her.  They are 
playing gently with her.  They are touching her sex, 
then moving away, then coming back.  She is 
paralyzed.  She cannot move to meet them, and must 
wait between touches, for the fingers that move up 
into her vagina, that move around her clitoris so 
very softly, that pull on her labia.  In her dream 
she pleads for him to let her finish.  The fingers 
become lips on her, and a tongue, which also touch, 
then withdraw, then return. 

When does she begin to realize that the hands and 
mouth are real?  So deep has she been that she 
doesn't waken all at once, but rises as from the 
bottom of a sea, her body in full arousal before she 
realizes what is happening, that she is being 
caressed, still blindfolded and tied.  Not gagged, 
though.  She can hear herself, making sounds, sounds 
like a sheep 

The hands and mouth move away, so she moans in 
disappointment again.  It is as before: torture by 
pleasure. 

Now there is a short whirring sound and she is struck 
on her stomach.  She makes a different animal sound, 
like a horse.  The stroke burns, then throbs, then 
subsides a bit.  After a moment there is the mouth 
again, renewing her arousal, almost instantly it 
seems.  When she is close to the edge, he withdraws 
and gives her a lash on her upper arm, so she writhes 
and neighs again, after which his hands and mouth 
return. 

This continues forever.  It must be forever.  When 
she is high with sex she is waiting for the whip, 
anxious, unable simply to feel the pleasure, ruined 
by the knowledge that the pain will come when he 
knows she is high enough.  She tries not to show her 
pleasure, to extend the time, but after awhile she is 
worn down by the pretense, by working so hard not to 
gasp or moan or bleat or push her pussy to him.  Then 
there is the moment of terror waiting for the blow, 
and when it comes she cries through the cycle of pain 
and wishes for the pleasure to start again.  Each 
extreme has her thinking of the other.  

Suddenly something different.  He unbinds her, lifts 
her, pushes her to her knees.  She feels him stand 
right up against her, his prick at her face. 

"Suck me," he orders.  "Do it sweetly."

His prick is hot on Kytn's face, so she finds it 
easily with her hands and guides it to her mouth.  It 
is both sour and musky, like meat gone slightly bad.  
She runs her tongue around the end, feeling how 
slippery it is, thinking that he must have been 
excited a long time.  She sucks directly at the hole, 
finding some slippery juice that she swallows.  
Bending forward, she takes the prick farther in, so 
that she can pleasure it with the flesh of her mouth 
as well as her tongue.  It throbs.  She wonders how 
it will be to taste his semen, when he comes in her 
mouth.  She is so hot that she thinks maybe she will 
come, too, that this will let her come. 

He reaches down to clench hair in his hands, to hold 
her while he moves his prick into her mouth with 
strokes that are long enough to hit the back of her 
throat and make her gag.  When he pulls back she 
tries to capture the head, to give him some more 
pleasure, then, as she catches it, he does come, 
giving her the nectar of submission.  He spurts and 
spurts, gasping out that she isn't to swallow yet.  
She holds what seems an ever growing pudding, and is 
shaken with some kind of frisson that dampens her 
disappointed that she doesn't come as well.  Now this 
step, the one she had feared the most in her thoughts 
of submission, has been completed, leaving her 
wanting more, with the feeling and tasting of him and 
knowing he will demand more. 

When he can talk he tells her to swish the come 
around in her mouth, not to swallow until everything 
is coated: her teeth, tongue, throat, the roof of her 
mouth.  That way she will keep his flavor with her 
for a long time. 

He pulls her to her feet and, as she staggers, he 
pulls her legs open, spreading her feet.  

"Don't be disappointed.  We're not done.  Now clasp 
your hands behind your neck." This pushes her breasts 
forward. 

"We're going to play some more, but it will be 
different this time.  You won't be tied.  You'll like 
that, won't you?  But Ktyn, you must stand quietly, 
without being tied.  You can do that, can't you?  
Because if you disobey -- well, let's say, if you 
disobey, you will give me another kind of pleasure." 

She hasn't come down of course, so when he begins 
playing with her body again it is almost a 
continuation.  He caresses her in the same places as 
before, walking around her as he does so.  She can 
feel the movement of air, and sometimes the heat off 
his body.  His prick bumps against her; he is that 
close.  

She works to obey, to keep her body still while 
little electric currents seem to follow his fingers 
and his tongue.  He dominates her senses.  The taste 
and smell of his semen stay with her.  She hears his 
feet on the floor.  His fingers work her so that she 
is all goose bumps.  He licks her vagina, slowly and 
thoroughly.  Oh my.  He must be kneeling right 
between her legs.  His hair is tickling her thighs 
and even that turns her on.  She is so high, her 
breathing shallow, her heart thudding against her 
ribs.  Then he stops.  

"Don't move." 

She knows what is coming, that he will strike her 
again, and she becomes so frightened that she can 
barely control herself.  She tries to obey, but when 
she hears a sudden noise to her left, she squeaks and 
jumps to the right, hits something hard, and falls to 
the floor. 

"That wasn't good.  Stand up and we'll try again."

He lifts her again, places her hands behind her head, 
and tells her to be obedient.  She starts shaking.  
She can't stop whimpering, but she holds her hands in 
place and tries to be brave.  Maybe if she strains 
her ears and peers intently through her blindfold she 
will know the room better and be able to find the 
belt.  

There is the sound of the belt moving through the air 
again, once, twice, three times -- without hitting 
her.  She has tensed all her muscles and has stopped 
breathing, but she cannot hold this for long.  She 
has to let the air out, and does so slowly, in a 
tiny, high-pitched whine.  When he does hit her all 
her muscles spasm.  

He begins to play with her body while she is still 
twitching and gasping; he strokes both her breasts, 
licks her belly, and passes his hands over her 
clitoris with amazing gentleness.  She gets high 
again, loses control of herself.  She can't consider 
holding her sex back from him, but pushes it out 
toward him.  Then the belt. 

He is pleased with her.  It is obvious.  He plays 
with her longer, getting her closer, almost to the 
edge, before the next stroke.  Once again he works 
her up.  She is swaying by now, and stumbling.  

He takes her by her hair to hold her still.  Once she 
is stable, he uses the belt on her sex, giving it 
tiny, fast little strokes.  They sting and they 
stimulate and soon she is caught up in an extension 
of the merged desire and fear, getting higher, not 
higher and lower, just higher, until she orgasms with 
a shriek that sounds exactly like a woman sobbing.  
She is so caught up in the rush of pleasure that she 
forgets to hold her hands behind her head.  She 
sways, her knees give out entirely, and he lets her 
sink slowly to the floor, letting go of her hair only 
at the end, so that she simply lies and moans for a 
while. 
