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From: "H. Jekyll" <h_jekyll2000@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Obsession,"  Part Three
Date: Tue,  5 Dec 2000 20:10:03 -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 Three

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. 



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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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