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From: "H. Jekyll" <h_jekyll2000@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Obsession,"  Part Two
Date: Mon,  4 Dec 2000 10:10:02 -0500
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"Obsession"

by 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: 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/h_jekyll/

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

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

Part Two

Kytn stands in some building.  She has seen nothing.  
She has no idea where she is.  Somewhere in or near 
Atlanta?  She may as well be nowhere.  She can't 
orient herself, can't follow what is happening.  
Jekyll is interrogating her, asking her sex 
questions, making her answer, but her mind won't stay 
still and she keeps losing track of his meaning.  
What is wrong with her?  She remembers getting into a 
car, but not coming back out, seems to remember 
walking into a room.  Jekyll is talking again.  What 
does he want from her?  She tries to concentrate.

"How often have men sodomized you?"

She makes out the question and tries to hold it in 
her mind.

"Master Jekyll, two, uh, two times."  She has memory 
flashes of both.  Jekyll wants to know about them.

"It was a boyfriend, two, no, three years ago, Master 
Jekyll.  He wanted to and I didn't want him to, but 
finally I let him."

"And?"

"The first time he made me get doggy style, and he 
used petroleum jelly on my ass."

"Did he use a condom?"

"No, Master Jekyll.  He never would.  He said he 
liked to go bareback."

"What did he do?"

"He fucked me, Master Jekyll, and used my vibrator in 
my vagina."  It is so easy to tell him everything.

"And you liked it?"

"Yes, Master Jekyll."

"And you came?"

"Yes, Master Jekyll."

"And the second time?" 

"He raped me, Master Jekyll."  Her eyes water behind 
her blindfold.  "He tied me and did me without any 
lubrication."

"And did you like it?"

"No, Master Jekyll.  It hurt and burned. I begged him 
to stop, but he wouldn't.  Later, for a week, when I 
went to the bathroom, there was blood on the toilet 
tissue."

"Why didn't you do it any more?"

"I stopped seeing him."

"When I fuck your ass I'll lubricate you or not, and 
you'll just take it.  You don't get a choice in the 
matter.  Do your hear?"

Yes, she hears.  She remembers the hurting and she 
becomes afraid, but this is Jekyll.  She knows he'll 
make her hot.  She hopes he will.  If he makes her 
hot enough, anything will be okay.  This tangential 
thinking has caused her to lose track, so she has to 
concentrate again, to remember what he requires, and 
so to tell him that, yes, she has sucked many men, 
but no, only once has a man come there, when she 
waited too long to take him out.  Yes, she did 
swallow some that time.  Jekyll tells her that she 
will swallow anything that comes out of him, often.

Somehow she loses track again, then realizes that her 
arms are stretched above.  Something else:  she 
cannot see anything.  How long has she been like 
this?  Jekyll is telling her something, something she 
must do.  She is so helpless, so weak, so little.  
There is a sharp pain on her belly and she bleats a 
very short cry, then remembers.  She has to practice 
her enslavement mantra.  What is it?

"I must ... I must obey. I must obey. I must obey." A 
rushing sound ends with a pain on her thigh and she 
cries out, turning this way and that, her arms 
twisting in the ropes over her head, trying to face 
where the strike came from.

"The rest of it," orders Jekyll.

"I ... I don't remember, Master Jekyll.  Please, I'm 
trying, but I can't remember.  Please don't hurt me.  
I'm trying.  What is the rest, Master?"

"You're not being obedient, you worthless slut!"  He 
strikes her again.  She cries out and continues to 
move, in a panic, until he orders her to stand still. 

Then she tries to obey, but not very successfully, 
her head turning back and forth, trying to judge when 
and where the pain will be.  Jekyll has to tell her 
the whole sequence again, before she can begin her 
practice:

"I must obey.  He is my Master.  I am nothing.  He is 
everything.  He possesses me.  His will commands me.  
I must obey.  He is my Master."  She recites the 
lines endlessly, while Jekyll busies himself with 
other activities. 

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

There are hands on her, softly moving over her body 
as she continues her recitation. When did they start? 

Hands play with her underarms, even more softly.  
Moving over them, tickling, then sliding down across 
her breasts.  Kytn stumbles on the words and a hand 
slaps a breast, stinging. She begins again, and the 
hands caress.  She is suddenly, for the first time, 
fully aware that she is naked.  Of course she is!  
But how did it come about?  How did she come here?  
She was on a plane.  The hands move down her belly, 
barely brushing over her pubic hair.  She is 
reciting, "He is everything. I am nothing."  The 
hands won't stroke her vagina, though, merely 
tickling lightly, finger tips moving over the outside 
of her pussy lips, scarcely touching at all. 

"I must obey."  She tries to move her front toward 
the hands, and when they withdraw she groans.  That 
brings another hard slap.  She starts, "I must obey," 
and in a moment the hands are back.

The hands leave her pubis, visit her thighs, her ass, 
return to her underarms, stroke her neck, flick her 
nipples.  Please, my sex, she thinks, and again she 
forgets her lines.  Another slap.  This time the 
hands wait until she has finished six rounds of 
recitation.  When they return they go to her sex 
almost immediately.  They play with her pussy lips.  
Fingers slide into her pussy.  Fingers make circles 
around her clitoris, just barely avoiding it, while 
Kytn tries to remember to obey.

It continues.  How long?  Long enough that she comes 
to speak her words in sex grunts, interrupting 
herself with sudden gasps, losing track and being 
slapped, then going on and on until the hands finally 
return.  She is so high that a single touch near 
enough to her clitoris would light the fuse, a little 
more stimulation of her lips would set her off, but 
the hands are too cunning for her.  Jekyll hasn't 
spoken, hasn't made any sound since this began.  
There are only her words, her subjugation of herself, 
which she scarcely hears while she waits for the 
hands to pleasure her more.

The hands are her world.  She hears her own voice as 
from a distance.  The words seep into her, bring her 
the knowledge of how it is to be, then again she 
feels the hands, and beyond them there isn't 
anything.  A mixture of desire, pleasure, submission, 
and frustration have taken over her voice.  She makes 
sex groans with her "I am nothing."  Her voice has 
somehow become that of a crying woman, husky and 
thick and half-choking.  She doesn't want it to end, 
but she thinks she cannot stand it any longer.  She 
can.

She is finally crying her lines openly, almost 
sobbing them, feeling the hands and unable to bend 
them to her will.  "His will commands me."  She 
stumbles again and begs, "Please, please," her first 
active disobedience since this began.  She silences 
herself with a gasp, as the hands leave.  This time 
she isn't slapped, but whipped six, seven, ten 
strokes, while she twists and cries from pain and 
fear and longing.  Finally, Jekyll speaks:

"You're a disobedient little slut.  No more pleasure 
for you tonight.  Instead, recite your lines until 
morning.  Then I might reconsider."

She tries.  Crying and moaning, she recites.  As long 
as she continues he doesn't hurt her, but she is so 
tired, so weary, with the orgasm just out of her 
reach.  She drifts, and a lash catches her.

"Don't stop!"

"I'm trying, I'm trying!  Please.  I must obey..."

Hours, hours, hours.  Surely he has gone to sleep, 
but when she errs, when she drifts, the lash catches 
her again and she has to force herself to start over. 

The sexual high has finally drained out of her, 
merely a wistful memory.

Kytn continues her descent.





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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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