"Obsession"

Part Six

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 would dearly 
love to hear from you, even if you hated the story.  
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 unbound, standing by the bed, staring at her 
suddenly free hands.  Jekyll strips and lies down, on 
his back.

"Kytn, make love to me."

Kytn looks at his body.  He is long and wiry, pale, 
with a little dark hair across his chest, and a long, 
ruddy penis lying quietly across more dark hair 
below.  She doesn't wait, but runs her hands across 
him, massaging his body, his arms and his legs.  She 
licks each of his nipples, flat and smooth, bites 
them softly, sucks on them.  She gives him kisses all 
over.  Then she licks his body, tasting his sweat. 

His penis is long, even when flaccid as it is now.  
She caresses it with her lips.  She can't think of 
anything else that has its qualities.  She strokes it 
again and again, moving her lips along that baby 
skin, running her tongue under the foreskin.  It 
hasn't been cleaned;  it is unclean especially for 
her.  

She knows this penis well, but not in this state, not 
feeling soft and innocent.  She sucks on it, taking 
the spongy thing well into her mouth, and feels its 
first movements, tastes the old urine flavor of it.  
She is getting excited.  The penis grows until it 
becomes a prick and she has to let most of it out of 
her mouth, keeping it in only to the glans.  She 
knows it better than almost any part of her own body.  
She knows the vein that pops up on the left under-
side, that is soft no matter how hard the rest of it 
becomes.  She swabs her tongue back and forth across 
it.  She is so good to him, she is thinking he might 
give her some pleasure tonight in return.  She pumps 
his prick deeply into her mouth.

He lets her pleasure him for awhile, until he is hard 
and close to coming.  Abruptly, he tells her to stop, 
to stand beneath the hanging chain.  She is downcast.  
She had been breathing warm, deep breaths on his 
prick, using the soft inner part of her cheeks along 
with her tongue to please him, but at his command she 
almost stops breathing.  She hangs her head and tries 
not to cry.  It will anger him if she cries before he 
begins to hurt her.  She crawls off the bed and 
trudges to the spot, stops, raises her arms, and 
waits for him.

Once she is hung he tells her to hang straight and 
not to move.  Her legs are not tied;  her toes barely 
scrape the floor.  She hangs perfectly straight and 
still.  He circles her, looking all over her body, 
while she waits, but when it comes, the blow catches 
her by surprise.  He hits her with his fist directly 
on the right breast, as hard as he can.

The impact sends her body swinging, knocks the air 
from her chest.  She cries out desperately, but can 
only make a hoarse sound as she swings in the room.  
She isn't even aware that she is kicking her legs 
around, hanging now only by her arms.

"Kytn! I told you to hold yourself still!"

It takes her a second to realize what he is saying, 
after which she tries to straighten herself again, 
fighting the inclination to pull into herself, 
something she couldn't do in any case.   She is 
moaning and trying to catch a breath, but she manages 
to say:

"I'm trying, Master, I'm trying.  Please."

He hits her on the other breast, sending her around 
once again.  He doesn't let her fully absorb the 
impact this time, but hits her second breast again.  
Then he waits until she is hanging, just shaking and 
panting, whimpering, before he hits her again.  
Always directly on a breast.  It seems to go on 
forever, before she blacks out.

She comes round while her body is still swaying in 
the ropes.  She isn't even aware of the pain in her 
shoulders because of her breasts.  Her body and face 
are drenched in salty sweat and tears.  When she can 
remember, she tries to be obedient, to hold herself 
still.  Another slam and she forgets again.

Jekyll comes around behind her and pushes his dry 
prick hard into her ass.  She scarcely cries at this, 
so little does it hurt in comparison with her 
breasts.  They feel explosively large.  He reaches 
around and starts squeezing and yanking them while he 
fucks her, and this does start her thrashing again.  
When he starts to come he squeezes her breasts as 
hard as he can, so that his grunts mix beautifully 
with her cries.

That night she stands in a closet, her legs spread 
and fastened, her arms pulled overhead, a tight metal 
bra squeezing swollen breasts against her chest wall, 
pumping up the pain, keeping her half awake, making 
her writhe.  He has warned her against making noise  
that will keep him awake, but she can't stop the 
whimpers, as always high pitched and gasping.  She 
whimpers to herself, talking to God, moaning and 
praying together.

"Please, dear God, I can't do it.  Please help me.  
Please make it stop.  I didn't know it would be like 
this, dear God.  I didn't.  I didn't.  Please, please 
help.  I can't take anymore.

She knows now that Hell is real.  With that 
realization, tears flood her face, dripping onto 
those breasts through the night.

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

The next day Jekyll tells her she is free to move 
about the house while he is gone.  He unbinds her 
partially, lays her down, and gives her something 
that puts her to sleep.

Kytn awakens in agony from a dream in which her 
breasts are swollen teats stretched completely across 
a freeway, where autos run over them at regular 
intervals.  Thump-thump.  Thump-thump.  As she wakes, 
she realizes the thumping is her heartbeat and her 
breasts are throbbing with the beat.  She tries to 
cradle them but she cannot.  Her hands are bound by 
short chains to a belt around her waist.  They can't 
reach quite high enough.

She stands, to have something to do, to take her mind 
off her breasts, but it is a mistake.  They are 
swollen, heavy, and when they fall with gravity she 
gasps and cries to herself and her body is instantly 
covered in sweat again.  Desperation drives her to 
walk.  She can take only pigeon steps because of a 
hobbling chain on her ankles, but she makes it to 
Jekyll's side-by-side refrigerator and gathers ice 
from the ice-maker.  She makes a pile on the bed and 
lies down gingerly, chest first, carefully.  After a 
time the throbbing subsides

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

When Jekyll returns, he stares at the wet bed for a 
long, silent moment.

"You thought you'd get around your pain, didn't you?"

"Master, it hurt so ..."

"Of course it did.  Did you really think I'd let you 
get away with that?" 

She stands silently, staring at the floor, beginning 
to tremble because she knows he will do something 
awful to her.  She can't stop herself from crying, 
poor little one, but she tries to control it and 
makes just quiet little whimpers.  He lets her stand 
there while he thinks, not saying anything at all, 
then quietly withdraws to the next room, rummages, 
returns.

He is carrying a length of rubber hose, about three 
feet long, sealed at both ends and obviously filled 
with something heavy.

"Feel this," he says suddenly, and hits her across 
her poor breasts.  Kytn drops to the floor, tries to 
cradle herself, screams, moans, twists.  Her face 
reflects pain, terror, nothing else.

"Listen carefully.  I'm going to give you twenty 
strokes on your breasts with this."

Kytn's shivering increases.  Her teeth chatter as she 
shakes her head back and forth, her eyes, wild with 
desperation.  She can't stop herself from begging, 
using "no" and "please," all the while knowing it 
won't make any difference.

"If you will show me some discipline by standing 
still, untied, and counting out the strokes without 
crying, then I will let you off with ten.  But, if 
you begin untied and can't make it to ten, then I'll 
tie and gag you and give you thirty more.  Do you 
understand?"

Shaking, Kytn nods, her face and breasts wet, her 
mouth moving.

"I can't take ten untied, Master.  I can't do that.  
I can't."  She can hardly get the words out. 

"Then you want the twenty?"

She nods and gives a wan smile of thanks.  He thinks 
her face has never been so adorable.  He smiles down 
at her and caresses her cheek with the backs of his 
fingers:  "It is good to know your limitations, my 
sweet Kytn."

Jekyll pulls her to her knees;  then he strips and 
comes up to her to let her pleasure him.  He doesn't 
want to become too aroused by the punishment itself.  
He lets her suck his penis, pleasure his head, his 
glans.  She knows she should try to extend the time, 
to put off the hurting as long as possible, but with 
punishment looming she can't think of how to do that 
and still give him the pleasure he demands.  She is 
very sweet to his cock, caressing it with her mouth 
as one would caress a baby's body with her hands, to 
calm it and show love.  She can tell how much 
sweetness he is feeling by the swelling and throbbing 
of the prick, and by how fast and how deeply he moves 
it. 

His prick has become an icon to her, a sacred object 
of great power that must be treated worshipfully.  
She senses somehow that it is the source of his 
power.  Drinking his semen has become a sacrament.  
How much of his semen has she drunk?

He has a delightful orgasm and spurts into her mouth.

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

Jekyll ties her, standing, to a wide, upright board, 
stretching her out, using wide rubber belts around 
ankles and wrists, thighs and upper arms.  Another 
wide belt goes around her belly and lower rib cage, 
pulled so tightly that she can breath only in shallow 
gasps.  Finally a last belt goes over her breasts.  
This one has holes cut in it, through which he passes 
her breasts with difficulty.  She cries out while he 
does this.  He takes rope and ties it around the 
bases of her breasts, several times, back and forth, 
until they stand out just like bruised beefsteak 
tomatoes, red and purple and deliciously swollen.  He 
plays with them, curious about this state and about 
whether they will be even more sensitive like this, 
and her cries remind him that he should gag her.  
Finally, he is ready.

He holds the hose directly in front of her eyes, 
ordering her to watch as he swings it in a long, 
horizontal arc, to hit her on both breasts at once, 
after which he watches her muscles stand out as her 
body makes the tiny motions that the belts allow.  
She screams past the gag, and liquid comes out her 
nose and across her upper lip.  She writhes and 
thrashes astoundingly.  Jekyll thinks she may 
threaten the integrity of the board, so he stops for 
a few minutes to hammer in more nails, while Kytn 
droops, hanging as much as she can in her bonds.  Her 
moaning is distinct through the gag.

When he is finished with his carpentry, he strikes 
her the second time.  All of her muscles stand out, 
but she has used up her energy.  At the third stroke 
she passes out.  Executive decision time, Jekyll.  He 
decides not to go the full twenty, but to stop when 
she has passed out three times.

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

Kytn is hanging in front of Jekyll's bed, conscious 
only from moment to moment.  Jekyll has been talking 
to her.  He is talking again, but not to her.  What 
is he saying?  Someone answers.  A woman.  Mother.

"Oh my master, please let me do her.  I so want to.  
I could make her beg, I know it."

Kytn simply hangs, trying with some success to 
suppress moaning, barely hearing the conversation, 
unable to care who hurts her next.  Sometimes she 
just slumps, half-hanging from the posts, while other 
times she is energized by the throbbing and twists 
around.  

"You don't want to hurt her. You want me to hurt 
you," Jekyll contradicts the woman.  He makes a 
sudden movement.  Ktyn can't tell what he has done, 
because he is leaning over the woman, blocking her 
view, but the woman screams. 

"No, my master, it's not me you need to hurt but her.  
You told me that.  Please, no."

He does something more and the woman cries out 
hoarsely.  It doesn't make any difference that she is 
Mother.  Nothing matters anymore.

"Stretch," commands Jekyll, and after a short 
hesitation the woman does, pushing her limbs to the 
head and foot of the bed, but now she is crying like 
Kytn cried, in anticipation as much as the hurting.

Jekyll ties her hands wide apart to the headboard;  
then her feet to the footboard.  He wraps sashes at 
her knees and pulls her legs wide open, opening her 
cunt.  Kytn can see this, and she watches as if from 
a distance, incuriously, as the woman is stretched 
open in front of her.  Kytn moans.  She can't help 
it, but Jekyll slaps her face 

"You will obey me, you worthless piece of shit."

The woman looks up at them. "My master, you'll kill 
her, you will."

Jekyll looks at the woman thoughtfully, quietly, as 
one would look in the middle of an extended 
intellectual effort.  He says:  "You don't know what 
it is like to be able to do *anything* to a girl, 
anything at all."

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

Mother is hanging beside Kytn, crying quietly in 
little half gasps.  How long has she been there?  
Both of them are drooping, sagging.  If Kytn can stay 
perfectly still her breasts won't hurt as much, but 
after awhile the hurting makes her move.  Jekyll will 
be so pleased, sleeping in the bed while the two 
women spend the night trying to swallow their pain.

The woman is saying something to Jekyll in a very low 
voice, between little whimpers.  Kytn can barely make 
it out. 

"... she'll die, and you won't be able to do anything 
anymore anyway."

"Oh, now we have alliteration, do we?  Is that the 
best you can do?" 

He lights a cigarette, takes a long drag, then grinds 
the cigarette out on Mother's left nipple.  She makes 
a high pitched cry that goes on and on.  It seems 
like a continuous cry, because Kytn still hears it 
when the pain in her breasts brings her around again, 
though it could be a new cry.  It makes no difference 
to Kytn, though. 

Kytn cannot stop herself.  She opens her mouth and 
lets her pain out, a pathetic cry to no one in 
particular.  Jekyll, of course, reviles her and 
squeezes both lumpy mammaries.  She passes out again.

When she comes back around it takes a moment to 
remember that the woman is Mother, and Mother is 
talking to Jekyll, still or again.  Mother breathes 
heavily, then speaks quietly and respectfully, always 
calling him "my master," before gasping again.  She 
is like a woman in labor. 

Kytn has a moment of clarity and looks as closely at 
the woman as she can.  Mother has red hair, short and 
flaming, orange.  Her eyes seem dark, though, like 
coals.  And she isn't young.  She could be sixty, she 
could be more.  Her breasts are soft with age, but 
they are banded with rubber so they have become 
swollen and purple, and both are studded with pins.  
Kytn can see tiny rivulets of blood moving among the 
pins, down to her nipples, then forming a growing 
drop on the end of each nipple before falling to the 
floor.  Another follows. 

"Give her to me, my master.  Let me nurse her 
around."

Mother suffers a fit of gasping.  "I'll take her if 
you give her to me."

"And why should I do that?  Lose my best little 
plaything?"

"She's dying, my Master.  Please, I can tell."

Kytn knows it must be true.  The room flickers while 
Jekyll and Mother continue their bizarre conversation 
and Kytn feels nothing at all. 

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

Does Kytn remember being bundled, carried someplace?  
She knows she isn't hanging, and the place feels 
different somehow.  She is tied, spread out on a bed 
or something, and the blindfold is back in place.  
Something is different.  It is some time before she 
realizes there's scarcely any pain. 

"You're awake, my dear."

Kytn lies as still as she can.  Now that she is awake 
the hurting begins.  But she remembers that voice. 

"Mother?"  She is as tentative as one can be in 
saying it.

"Yes, dear.  I was almost afraid you wouldn't wake 
for me."

"Mother, am I, am I dying?"  Kytn doesn't fear this, 
but hopes it will happen before Jekyll returns. 

"Oh, you were more aware back there than I thought.  
Well, sweet one, sometimes one has to exaggerate a 
bit to get a bargain."

Kytn doesn't understand this.  Her mind feeds her the 
other question.  Ask her the other question.  Be 
brave.

"Where, where is he?  Master Jekyll?"

"We're not at his place.  You're with me now, dear."

Something stings Kytn's arm and her head gets cloudy 
as the pain recedes.  When she is aware again, she 
feels soft hands bathing her with a deliciously hot 
cloth.  Mother has removed her bonds, and Kytn turns 
on her side suddenly, trying to sit up, in the 
process bumping into Mother's breasts.  

Everything changes.  Mother inhales sharply and holds 
herself completely motionless, her muscles tense;  
her reaction floods Kytn with the image of those 
purple, swollen breasts, studded with pins.  She can 
see each twisting thread of blood, the length each 
droplet grew before falling, the exact color of 
everything.

"Oh, Mother, I'm so sorry.  Please, I didn't mean 
to."

Mother has begun to breathe again.  She lets Kytn 
sit, but holds her still.  Kytn knows what will 
happen, but she has to ask anyway.

"Are you going to punish me now?"

Mother finally manages a little laugh.  "Oh you poor 
dear.  You're not in any shape to be either punished 
or loved right now.  It will take you time to heal."

Kytn starts to cry.  In the middle of a snuffle she 
asks:

"Why did you let him do that to you?  I couldn't go 
back to him, ever.  How could you do that?"

"Well, how else was I to get you?"

Mother begins to wash her once again, going very 
gently over her wounds.  She doesn't speak again for 
awhile.  There is just the sound of the cloth being 
dipped in the basin and wrung out.

When she is finished, she helps Kytn rise and, after 
tying her hands behind her back once again, walks her 
to another area, where she pushes her gently to her 
knees on a soft mat.  She tells her it is time to eat 
and brings a fork with a bit of curried chicken to 
her face.  Kytn swallows it, then takes a sip of wine 
from a glass Mother puts to her lips. 

Kytn is kneeling directly at Mother's leg, brushing 
against her thigh.  She has another question.

"Mother, when can I go home?"

"Oh, no, dear."  Mother laughs a pretty laugh.  Her 
voice is as soft as her hands.  "That life is over 
for you, I'm afraid.  It's finished.  You're mine, my 
toy."

And at that Kytn begins to sob, for the first time 
not from pain or fear, but in grief for her lost 
life.  Her shoulders shake and tears first stain her 
blindfold, then begin to seep beneath it to her 
cheeks, dripping to her chest.  Mother says:

"It won't be so bad.  I'll take good care of you and 
you'll be happy.  You see, to master someone you must 
first master yourself.  Jekyll let himself be 
uncontrolled, and ruined things, but you'll find that 
I'm not like that.  I'll always be a good mistress to 
you."

It doesn't help.  Kytn cries until she has cried 
herself out.

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

A person peering into the room would see the girl 
with the sweet body, clad only in bruises and a black 
cloth over her eyes, kneeling before the older woman, 
lifting her head and opening her mouth to take a bite 
of food, letting her head droop once she has 
swallowed.  This continues through several cycles.  
Then, so slowly as to be hardly noticeable, she lays 
her head down on the thigh of the older woman, her 
cheek touching the thigh, her mouth twisted in 
obvious grief.

The woman strokes her hair, pushes the hair away from 
her face, and moves a hand slowly over the face, the 
forehead, cheek, lips, chin and neck, before touching 
the blindfold over the eyes with exaggerated care.  
She bends forward and kisses the girl with obvious 
gentleness on all the places she has just touched.  
Finally she helps the girl to sit up again and gives 
her another bite of food.

End.
