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Jenny's First Step, Part 1
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Jenny's first step. (part 1)
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So, you want to act out our joint fantasies tonight ? To make the
dreams real ? ...well, just bear one thing in mind...I may hold the
other end of this chain, but _you_ locked it around your neck and
surrendered it to me. Yours was the act of submission, yours the
first step that cannot be retraced. You placed yourself at my
disposal, now you must accept whatever consequences I choose. I say
this, not to elicit your agreement - you're in no position to disagree
now - merely to ensure that you fully understand your situation.
The chain tightens, Jenny. A steel band, cold on your throat, draws
you toward the dark, one step at a time. What lies ahead ? Should
you resist, now, or is it too late ? Of course it is. A step nearer.
Choose how you will go - head up, defiant and proud, or struggling and
uselessly screaming. Another step. The manner of your going is the
only choice you have, now. However you do it, you're going into the
darkness. One step left. Tell me how it feels. Speak, while you
still can, Jenny. No more steps. The dark takes you.
"I feel a tight little knot in the pit of my stomach, and my skin
tingles all over. The chain is cold, hard and very heavy on my neck.
Why is such a heavy chain needed to bind a weak and helpless girl? I
have to struggle to keep up and keep some slack in the chain
because, with my hands bound behind me, I can't pull against it or
avoid its harsh tugs in any way."
That "tingling" is the cool air flowing in from the entrance, stirring
those little light hairs on your bare skin. It won't bother you long,
don't worry, because the door is silently closing behind you. It's a
very heavy door, thick and secure, moving on well-oiled hinges.
There's a soft 'thump' as it settles into its jamb, and the
distinctive sound of a heavy lock sliding home into a tempered steel
socket. There's only one key for this door. I have it.
It's very quiet, now the door is shut. Outside sounds don't penetrate,
nor will any sound from inside be heard beyond the door, even if
anyone were there to hear. Your own breathing sounds like a rushing
wind, the soft clink of the chain rings as loud as bells on a winter
night. Short echoes return from around you, but give no clues as to
who, or what may be in the shadows.
The weight of the chain ? The chain is not to bind your body, Jenny,
but to bind your mind. A simple dog-leash would suffice to guide and
restrain you, like the pet you are to become, but the cold grip of
steel and the downward drag of the links serve to make you very aware
that you are totally captive, body and spirit. At each reluctant
step, your neck feels the tension of supporting the metal, and your
own muscles constantly tell you of your helplessness, of the
inequality of the struggle.
You may relax now, at least as much as you can. The pulling has
stopped. Unaccustomed to the darkness, you sense, rather than see,
movement near you, as you stand, shifting your weight uncertainly from
one foot to the other. The angle of the chain swings sharply upward,
and a soft 'snap' tells you it has been secured to something close
overhead, effectively limiting your movements to a very small radius.
Suddenly, something touches your bare arm ! You gasp and leap
forward, brought up sharply by the chain. You twist away, but someone
is holding your roped wrists firmly, circling them with something
else... not cold, like the chain, not coarse and cutting like the
crude rope that binds them now.... soft, smooth, not unpleasant on the
skin.... leather cuffs, Jenny, stronger and safer than rope or steel,
to hold you firmly without damaging your skin over a longer period.
After all, over the length of time you are to be here, I have to
consider the long-term. I need to keep you in good condition to serve
me well.
The broad straps circle each wrist snugly, and snap together with a
tiny brass lock. As your eyes begin to adjust, you can crane over
your shoulder in time to see a blade flash ! Wild , panicky
thoughts fill your head, of blood and pain, is this why I brought you
here...? The blade completes its stroke, severs the cords on your
wrists, making your hands tingle as the circulation returns. In the
flood of relief, you are almost grateful for the soft but unbreakable
grip of the new cuffs.
Another brushing touch on your back, between your shoulder blades.
Again, the touch and smell of new leather, and a broader strap circles
your elbows, drawing them close together behind you. To accommodate
the discomfort of this new stricture, you have to pull your shoulders
back, and you are suddenly very aware of how this makes your breasts
ride up and stand proud. So am I, Jennyy, so am I
It's quiet for a moment, and you stand, twisting a little, testing
your bonds for weaknesses, looking for some slack. There is none. You
can hear me moving around behind you, in the dim light you can vaguely
make out outlines, see me move back towards you with something in my
hands. You don't know what it is, you're not sure you want to know.
You find out soon enough, as padded cuffs grip each ankle and snap
into place. A short bar joins them, spreading your legs just enough
to be revealing, but not enough to be uncomfortable. Yet.
It's quiet again. I move away, pick up something that rustles and
jingles a little and turn back to you. There's a soft 'click', and
spotlights spring on all around you, lighting every side of your bound
form, allowing you no shadow, no modesty. The light stings your eyes,
you have to blink back tears, try to shake your head against the
restraining chain.
Look about you, Jenny, as your eyes grow accustomed to the brightness.
Tell me what you see. Speak to me, Jenny, I'll allow you a few
minutes of speech before I either cover or fill your mouth. Tell me,
Jenny, this may be your last chance for some time.... what do you see,
hear, feel, want, need ?
As I move into the light, approaching you, what is your greatest dream
and your worst fear ? The adrenalin's pumping in your veins, your
breath rasps, you don't know what I plan for you, but you have
imagined this moment over and over.
Tell me the good and the bad. What do you most crave for me to do
now..... and what is your worst dread ? You have to tell me, but you
have no idea which it is to be, if either. Neither do I, yet. If one
or other of your descriptions appeals to me, I may do it. I may just
toss a coin. Or I may have something far better/worse planned for
you.
Tell me now.......in detail. Tell me NOW, JENNY !
Jenny's First Step (part 2)
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"Master, thinking about my journey into the dungeon and your
initial preparations fills my body with strong (almost overwhelming)
emotions. There is fear and anxiety, of course, but there is also
reassurance and confidence and a luscious submissive sinking feeling
in the pit of my stomach. This latter feeling has a bittersweet
quality. It is not really pleasant, but neither is it unpleasant. It
is addictive. The more I feel it the more I need it.
The reassurance and confidence come from the self-confident,
skillful touch with which you control me. The cuffs replacing ropes.
Considerate, yet they make me more vulnerable. The bar spreading my
ankles makes me more vulnerable--sexually vulnerable--it's humiliating
to a small degree. The strap around the elbows--clearly not needed
for effective restraint-- very effectively makes the bondage more
oppressive, more stressful, constantly intruding itself into my
consciousness.
I look around the dungeon in the suddenly bright light, and what
I see exceeds my ability to comprehend. There are sturdy tables and
frames scattered around the large room. It is clear that they are not
for any ordinary purpose. Their shape, design and attached straps and
the like reveal that the implements have been specially designed to
hold a girl's body helpless, and perhaps to torment it in diabolical
ways. My mind is given the task of trying to imagine what each of the
implements might do to my body, and it cannot cope.
The walls hold an even greater fatal fascination, since there are
straps, chains, whips, and many items whose purpose is not readily
apparent.
It's difficult to adjust to the overwhelming display of
implements, forced to stand, helplessly bound, in anxious
anticipation."
Oh, dear, Jenny.....you have some lessons to learn. Do I have
introduce you to the unpleasant consequences of disobedience so soon ?
I asked you some questions, you didn't respond.
I offered you choices, little Jenny, I gave you the opportunity to
express preferences as to how you might be treated. Your worst
nightmare, your wildest dream, remember ? After all, this is your
first visit to my fantasy world, it only seemed polite to ask, but you
didn't answer me, did you ? Is that any way to return my kindness,
little slave ? - For slave you are, Jenny, make no mistake of that,
and it is as my slave that you will learn that, when I ask, you
answer; when I speak, you obey; when I snap my fingers, you run,
hobble or crawl to attend me.
Naturally, you feel fear, and you are quite right to feel anxious.
After all, you've gone beyond the point of no return, with no say in
what is to happen to you. You passed on that, remember ?
Just now, the fear and tension is in your stomach, that nasty twisting
feeling in the gut, but soon it will spread outwards, to emerge in
physical signs all over your body. Soon I shall cover your skin with
a film of sweat, the sheen of fright/excitement. Soon I shall tease
that fear out of your mouth in screaming and begging - but will you
beg for it to stop, or beg for more ?
I know the answer, do you?
Soon, now, your own body will betray you, the extra stimulus of fear
will awaken sexuality of a level you didn't think possible, and you'll
deny it in vain. You'll yell "No!", but your body will beg "Yes...".
You'll squirm in your chains, but the fluids glistening between your
thighs will tell me that you squirm for more, not less. I'll give you
more, slave Jenny, never fear. More than you can handle, then more
still. You're right, it is addictive, and you'll leave here
hooked for life.
Considerate ? In a way yes, thgouh the cuffs make life simpler for
me. I can modify your position easily by attaching or releasing rope,
chain, whatever, with the rings on the cuffs. Yet I do have a duty.
The conscientious master never causes undue damage or suffering to his
slave. Not accidentally, anyway.
I see you begin to appreciate the subtler points of your predicament.
When I want you to be sexually vulnerable, little slave, I will render
you so. Much more so than this, I assure you. For now, though, your
sex is exposed, your modesty denied you, by a simple bar. Similarly,
the strap around your upper arms. Not entirely necessary, but it has
two very salutary effects.... one, as you have observed, it is
uncomfortable, intrusive, your shoulder muscles constantly reminding
you that you are captive.... and, two, the backward pull has a very
pleasant effect on the posture of your breasts. Pleasant from my
viewpoint, anyway. Very attractive, very sexy, little Jenny, and sex,
after all, is what's behind all this, isn't it ? I shall enjoy
amusing myself with these lovely mounds........
But, enough of this. You made a mistake, you have earned a lesson. A
pity, I had hoped that your first experience in my world would be a
more pleasant one, but there are things you must learn, and one of the
most important is that you do as I say.
You didn't want to speak, so I'm going to arrange it that you can't,
for a while, anyway. Now, as your eyes adjust and I enter the
spotlit circle, you can see what was in my hand - a large red rubber
ball, attached to some straps. You know what it is, you don't want
it, but you have little choice as I sieze your hair and tip your head
back, jamming the ball into your mouth. The first strap tightens
behind your neck, pulling the ball back, deeper into your mouth until
it lodges firmly behind your teeth, like a horse's bit. A second,
shorter thong fastens under your chin and holds your mouth firmly shut
around the invader. The final indignity passes up over the crown of
your head and buckles there. It feels heavy, as though something
larger than a simple buckle was up there.
Paradoxically, the ball gag fills your mouth and holds it shut, but
keeps it open at the same time. You can't swallow, and you suspect
that you'll soon begin drooling. Too late to ask questions now, you
wish you knew more, you want to say....what ? "Slow down, I'm not
ready!" ? How about ""This isn't what I expected....." Whatever it
was, it all comes out the same..... just a sort of muffled
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmph", which I shall choose to interpret as murmurings of
appreciation. A pity, I could think of a number of much more
pleasant ways to part the lips that are currently glistening wet
around that hard, unyielding gag, but time enough for that later.
You've already noted the various "toys", around the room, but I always
feel more satisfied with subtler approaches when it comes to punishing
disobedience. I can feel your eyes on me as I cross to a table,
select a few small objects and return. Very big, wide eyes, full of
messages of ....... regret ? apology ? fear ? You know you're going
to be punished, you know it's not going to be fun, so you're frowning,
turning away from me a little, whining softly through the ball. So,
when I take your left breast in my hand and begin stroking it, softly,
lovingly, those eyes pop wide in surprise, then half-close in pleasure
as I roll your stiffening nipple between thumb and forefinger. The
noises in your throat take on a new quality as you sway a little,
enjoying the feeling as I lick and tickle all around those lovely
tight tits of yours with my tongue. You like that, don't you, Jenny ?
Tied, gagged, helpless as I arouse your body, this is what you wanted,
isn't it ? Wait a minute, though, I'm supposed to be punishing you,
so why all the pleasure ?
Three reasons.... first, pleasure and pain are very closely allied,
and I plan to switch you very rapidly between the two extremes.
Secondly, I enjoy doing this, too, you know. I like to make you sway
and moan, I like to feel your tits harden under my fingers......
Thirdly ? Oh, that's simple. Your swollen nipples provide a much
better purchase for the two needle-jawed spring clips that I clamp
onto them.
See what I mean ? Pain and pleasure, it's often hard to spot the
border. Hurts, doesn't it, slave ? Those moans of pleasure have
turned to shrieks of surprised pain, stifled by the ball packing your
mouth. Just a few seconds ago, you could feel the lubricants
beginning to form within you, now you fear that you'll wet yourself
with pain and surprise. You fling yourself backwards, contorting
your whole body away from me. Foolish, really, since you simply
dangle from your collar chain, unable to get your balance back with
your feet spread.
Your eyes follow me, blinking back the tears, as I walk all the way
around you, savouring the moment, watching you toss your breasts from
side to side, futilely trying to loosen the clips, hearing the
indignant shrieks that manage to penetrate the ball. This isn't
really a very severe punishment, since you are new, and still have
much to learn. After all, I could make it much worse...... I could
have hung weights on those clips, and left you like this for hours.
You already spotted the whips on the walls, suppose I used them on
you, too?
No, little slave Jenny, this is just a short, sharp reminder of your
status, an "initiation", if you will, into my world. I'll remove the
clips now, and listen to the keening wails of relief as I remove the
left......feel the pressure coming off, the pain ebbing.....your voice
tell me you do, even through the mouth-filling ball. You're panting,
the pitch of your moaning is dropping to a huskier tone, as you begin
to appreciate just how sexy relief can be. Not too much, too fast,
little slave, so I make you wait while I return the first clip to its
table, before I come back and repeat the process with your red,
swollen right breast.
Better ? Yes, you are.... and turned on, too. Your body reveals it,
and I grin, run my hand down across your belly and rub it quickly
across your pouting vagina, then hold it up to you, to show you how
wet you are.
Now, do we fully understand our relative positions, little slave ?
I do hope I don't have to find too much more fault with your
performance while you are my guest. I would much prefer to use your
body in more mutually satisfying ways, but, then, I'm going to have
fun whatever happens. It would be so much nicer if you had fun,
too.....or, at least, didn't complain too loudly..... but then, you
can't can you......?
Lesson understood, little slave Jenny ?
Jenny's First Step (Part 3)
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Why, Jenny, you're trembling.....
Your nostrils flare, your reddened breasts heave invitingly as you
fight to calm your breathing. Sweat glistens on your face, neck and
belly, trickles down from your armpits. A mixture of tears, sweat and
saliva drips from your chin onto your breasts, but you're not really
able to do much about it, are you ? Your hair is damp from the sweat
of fear. Your legs shake, partly from their stretched position,
partly from reaction. Gently, now, little slave, the lesson is
over, but you won't forget it, will you ? You'll be a more obedient
plaything from now on, won't you ?
Time to show you the more pleasant side of your captivity. I remove
the bar from between your ankles, and reconnect the cuffs with twelve
inches of light chain. Unhooking the heavy chain from your collar, I
pick a short silver leash from the table and snap it to the ring at
your throat. Once, just once, you tug against its pull, then your
shoulders shrug, as much as the straps will allow, you make a sort of
exasperated sound in your throat and meekly follow, pacing carefully
with your hobbled feet, as I lead my new slave through a small door at
the rear of the room.
The room beyond is large, comfortably warm and gently lit. The carpet
is a soft grey, warm on your bare feet. Occupying the centre of the
room is a very large four-poster bed, with a single pale cream satin
sheet and pillows. Steel fixtures glisten at several points around
its base, and in the posts supporting the canopy, suggesting that this
is not a bed likely to provide a restful night's sleep. To your
right is a tall white built-in cupboard, an easy chair and a low
coffee-table, bearing a bottle of wine in a cooler, a single glass,
and, incongruously, a telephone. To your left an open door shows the
tantalizing gleam of bathroom fittings, and you become suddenly very
aware of your bedraggled state.
I lead you to the chair, push you to your knees beside it and hook
your leash to its base. Taking the chair, I pour some wine and sip
it, returning the glass to the table in front of you. Ice chinks
softly in the cooler, condensation beads on the side of the glass,
aggravating the raging thirst that has resulted from your exertions.
Paradoxically, although you're still drooling idiotically around the
gag, your mouth and throat are parched.
"Would you like some wine, Slave ?" My voice startles you. You wag
your head in pathetic gratitude, and mew a plea through the wadding in
your mouth. You're conscious of holding your breath and trembling
as I lean over and release the web of straps that hold your head
captive. Your jaws ache from accommodating the invader for so long,
and it hurts like hell to open them still further, so that I can pull
the ball out, with a moist 'pop'. The harness drops to the table,
your saliva glistening wetly on the ball and staining the hide.
I lift the glass and hold it to your lips. You're unused to drinking
this way, and you gulp down too much, choking and spluttering. Wine
runs down your chin, mingles with the sweat between your breasts.
"Please....err, Master... couldn't you free my hands ? It's hard for
me to drink this way, and I'm making a mess...."
"You are in a bit of a state, yes, little Jenny.....but the wine is
the least of it......" You look down at yourself and blush in
embarrassment at your body covered in mixed liquids, glistening and
sticky..... just about the only thing you haven't done is to wet
yourself. Although, talking of which.....
"M..Master ? May I go to the bathroom ?" You're really blushing,
now, at having to ask such a childish question. A delightful flush
spreads up across your breasts, neck and face, and you hang your head
as I simply look at you, saying nothing, for a very long time.
"That's probably a good idea, it may be some time before you get
another chance." Now, what does that mean ? Instead of releasing, or
at least easing, your bonds, I stand, unhook your leash from the chair
and lead you into the bathroom. You stand, uncertain, as I simply
drop your leash and make no move to leave the room, turning instead to
run the shower. Pressure from your bladder is competing with a
rising sense of shame and humiliation. You know that things will be a
lot worse if you wait, but, in front of me ...?
"Master ! I..... could I be alone... please ?"
"Jenny, it just hasn't sunk in yet, has it ? While you're here, I
own you. You don't have any rights, or any secrets, or any modesty.
Slaves don't have privacy, except such as their master may choose to
allow them. You have not yet earned any such privileges, so you may
as well get used to the idea that your body is not your own, it's
mine, to please myself and amuse myself with. Now, I intend to make
sure that it will be quite a while before you have another
opportunity, so I should make the most of this one. " I push you
back by your shoulders, the seat catching you behind the knees and
obliging you to sit without thinking about it. Your leash clicks onto
a hook on the wall behind you, and I turn away to check the
temperature of the shower water.
It doesn't particularly amuse me to watch you relieving yourself, but
the humiliation, amply betrayed by your crimson cheeks and tears of
shame, is another part of your lesson. That I can bring you to this,
that I can own and manipulate you to such a degree.....scary, isn't
it, Jenny ? What else might you find yourself helplessly agreeing
to, before the night is out ? When I turn back to you, after a few
minutes, and ask "All finished ?", you are unable to speak for hot
embarrassment, you simply hang your head.
"I said...", grasping your chin and lifting your face to mine, "..All
finished ?"
"Yes". Barely a whisper. I watch your eyes, in silence, waiting for
you to work it out.
"Yes, thank you...Master" Better. You're learning, Jenny. Time to
get you cleaned up. The shower is billowing steam into the room, as I
remove your collar and push you under its jets. You close your eyes
and gasp as the warm water stings and caresses, turning and twisting
to get as much of you wet as possible. Eyes and ears full of water,
you're blind and deaf to everything but the hedonism of hot water, so
it comes as a shock to you when I begin rubbing scented shampoo in
your hair. You give a start, then relax and enjoy the feeling.
Rinse, conditioner, the whole works. Never let it be said that I
don't groom my slave well. Once again, I wait for you to work it out
for yourself.......
With the clearing of the water from your eyes, comes greater clarity
of thought......If I'm in the shower with you, why are my clothes not
getting wet ? Ah. Right. The situation is suddenly crystal clear.
You are naked, wet, helpless, tied very tightly by the hands, and in
close proximity to your naked master. Your master who has, so far,
devoted all his attention to your subjugation, but who now shows every
sign of requiring some pay-back. Oh.
Kneel, Jenny. On your knees, little slave, and begin your service. I
told you earlier that I could think of better ways to fill your mouth
than with a gag, and here is the first. No, I didn't ask you to
talk about it, I didn't say "Would you like to.....?", I didn't free
your lips to waste on conversation, I left your mouth free because
you're going to serve me with it, just the way I tell you to, and
you're going to do it NOW.
Magician
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