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Healing Jess, 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.
Healing Jess
Part 1
By: Liette
Jessica was late. Guiding her blue Cherokee up the drive toward the
manor, she cursed softly to herself. Damn it all! Kevin was going to
be furious with her. She had promised, sworn, that she would be home by
six. He was so peculiar about the time and had decided on that exact
hour as the beginning of their much anticipated romantic weekend
together. Now, it after eight and he would be furious.
Turning the final bend of the twisting two mile road, she slowed the
jeep nearly to a stop. Just ahead, through the lush pines that dominated
the high ridge of the sprawling Kenhill estate, lights beckoned, piercing
the heavy leaded glass of the first floor study. Kevin's study. The
study where he would be waiting, impatient, angry.
Jessica tried to slow her racing heart and placed a calming hand
over the sudden twinge of pain in her stomach and abdomen. An
"irritation" the doctor had called it when he had completed his exam two
days earlier, obviously concluding that the medical term was beyond her
abilities. A minor ailment, at least for the present, that flared up
whenever she got upset. It would be easily subdued, he had assured her,
with proper and regular treatments and kept further in check by following
a careful diet. The diet she had already started, but the treatments....
Jessica pushed the visit from her mind. The man was a quack. She
had convinced herself of that despite the fact that he was one of Kevin's
closest and oldest friends. She would find someone else, someone who
wouldn't talk down to her, who wouldn't click his tongue at her, who
would offer her options. Only later. Right now she had a much bigger
problem.
Kevin.
What would he do to her?
Not so foreboding a question as it might seem. It wasn't that her
husband was abusive, far from it, it was only that they had a certain and
rather unique agreement. To avoid the never ending and often disastrous
feuds and disputes that plagued most of their friends, Kevin and Jessica
had mutually agreed, early in their marriage, to deal with each others
minor, and major, trespasses in a way that would both settle and lay them
quickly to rest. The grieved party would simply administer a certain
degree of "punishment" and once completed the matter would be forever
dropped. It worked well, for both Kevin and Jessica had a slight taste
for such "games" and neither harbored any trace of vindictiveness. That
took care of most of the potential pitfalls and generally turned each
lesson into a memorable event that brought them even closer.
The only problem Jessica had their arrangement was that she was
typically the one who found herself at fault. Kevin was more particular
than she, not to mention more persuasive, often setting very high
expectations, and rarely failing to meet his own taxing standards. In
fact, it had only happened twice in their four years of marriage. It
further annoyed her that while he seemed to find her attempts at
retribution amusing, his, though always lovingly administered and never
excessively painful or humiliating, almost always brought her, at some
point, to tears.
But not tonight, she prayed. Please, not tonight. This was
supposed to be a very special weekend, pure romance, and it was bad
enough that her stomach was acting up, as it had been too often lately.
Worse still, it wasn't even her fault, not really. The dreaded monthly
meeting of the Kenhill Children's Foundation had run late was all. Lexi
McBride and Father Graves had gotten into one their usual "discussions"
about this year's fiances for the charity ball and everyone knew you
couldn't shut Lexi up once she got started. Everyone. Even Kevin.
Damn, damn, damn! Why hadn't he gone with her? He had planned to -
without actually promising of course - right up until he had called
after lunch to say that he would be held up with business until she got
home.
At six o'clock.
Resigned now to the fact that she would have to face his judgement,
Jessica pulled her jeep up to the front of the house and parked it next
to Kevin's silver Mercedes. She was in trouble, no doubt about it, so
she might as well face up to it and get it over with. Hoping that he
would be generous in the spirit of kindling their romance, she slid out
of the driver's seat and scurried up the broad front steps. Pausing
briefly, she muttered a prayer, and went inside.
"Kevin?" The darkened foyer was quiet, empty except for Trinity,
their silver-gray manx, who had swept in from the parlor to blink
sleepily at her from the base of the sweeping staircase. Off to one side
the door to Kevin's study was slightly ajar, a tendril of light escaping
to brush the polished hardwood floor.
No answer.
Maybe he hadn't heard, Jessica thought placing her purse on the side
table. As she removed her coat and hung it on its peg, her eyes
flickered longingly to the stairs and up toward the haven of their room
where a hot shower would go a long way in soothing her knotted insides.
Maybe he was so engrossed in business that....
"You're late, Jess."
Jessica winced and reluctantly edged toward the study door. Her
hand touched the wood, but she didn't open it, staying just out of sight,
away from the light.
"I know. I'm sorry, Kev. I got tied up. Lexi...."
"Come inside, Jess," Kevin's rich, deep voice interrupted her.
Slowly, Jessica pushed open the door and stepped over the threshold.
Inside, the study was an artful masterpiece of mahogany and nautical
brass, a manly room underscored by the heady scent of aging leather.
This was Kevin's sanctuary, where tall stoic bookcases lined the walls
and deep maroon curtains hung the windows in heavy blanketing folds.
Dark panels stretched the ceiling, making the room seem small, yet oddly
cozy. In the center of it, set slightly back near the massive fireplace
and mantel, was an enormous desk, void now of its usual clutter, but
sporting a crystal wine decanter and single long stemmed glass. The
fragile etched flowerlet was held idly between the fingers of the man
sitting behind it, relaxed in a high backed leather chair.
Kevin.
As always, Jessica Kenhill felt a warm stirring somewhere deep
inside at the sight of her husband. He was a handsome man, tall and
broad of shoulder, with dark wavy hair, sapphire blue eyes, and a smile
that could melt her very soul. He was smiling that smile now, as he
always did whenever he saw his petite auburn haired wife, and Jessica
knew without question how much he loved her.
"You're late," he said again, taking a sip of crimson wine.
But was he angry with her? That she couldn't answer. He had been
waiting, that was obvious, but what was going on behind those adoring
eyes?
"I'm so sorry, Kev," she tried. "I couldn't get away. I...."
"Jess." He said it low and soothing and held out his hand.
Lulled, transfixed, she crossed the room and took it in her own.
It was firm and warm and drew her around the desk, pulling her into his
lap. Immediately she stiffened, realizing how damp her nerves had made
her and thinking of the creamy beige of his immaculate shirt. "I
shouldn't," she told him, starting to lean away.
Kevin pulled her back, setting his glass aside to put his arms
around her. "Let me decide. You're perspiring, love." He rolled the
words of his cultured tongue, making it sound almost like a compliment.
"You aren't nervous, are you?"
"Should I be?" she asked, trying to sound light.
He laughed softly in her ear. "Perhaps."
Teasing, but ominous, the word made her stiffen again.
"Shush," he soothed, understanding her reaction. "I'm not angry
with you, Jess, not really." One hand moved to cup her chin, forcing her
to face him. "But I think you know what this means."
Any fragment of hope she might have been harboring was dashed
immediately. "Please, Kev, it wasn't my fault," she pleaded, though she
knew it was futile. He had been unhappy about several things over the
past few weeks and her tardiness tonight was her final sin.
"Don't make it worse, love."
She knew she shouldn't but, "Kevin, please, just hear me out. I
tried, I really did, but Lexi just kept talking and talking. You know
how she is. I couldn't leave. It was the Foundation. I had to stay.
I didn't want to, but I couldn't just walk out. It would have been...
unseemly."
For a long moment, Kevin simply looked at her, his expression
thoughtful. "The Foundation is important," he said finally.
Jessica nodded mute agreement, hope flaring again that he might
actually forgive her, that their long planned weekend of romantic
seclusion might be saved. When he tipped her chin and kissed her, long
and passionate, she melted against him in gratitude and relief.
The kiss went on for a blissful eternity. After a while his hand
dropped from her chin, tracing the delicate curve of her neck, wandering
lower in lazy circles, until it cupped the firm globe of her breast. He
squeezed gently, his thumb and finger teasing the nipple through the silk
of her blouse and lace of her bra, fondling it to aching hardness.
Suddenly, he gave it a sharp, painful pinch.
Startled, Jessica jumped back and gave an involuntary cry of
surprise. At the same time a small rubber ball was pressed to her lips
and thrust into her open mouth. Before she could react the gag was
firmly seated between her jaws and her husband was fastening the strap
in a tight band around the back of her head.
"Mmmmf?!" Her hands flew to remove the intrusive object. She had
seen such devices, but never had Kevin used one on her. Never.
"Don't," he said taking her hands and holding them firmly. "Leave
it be."
She stared at him in shock and confusion.
"A little something I thought I might need," he explained, a tad
triumphantly she thought. "I don't want to hear any excuses, Jess.
You're right, the Foundation is important and I can forgive that, but
you've deceived me, love, about something I can't overlook."
Tears began to well in Jessica's eyes, as much from the indignity
of being gagged as from the sure knowledge that she had committed some
infraction he felt so terrible that he had used the time waiting for her
to plan a very special retribution.
Softening, Kevin gave her a tender squeeze and gently kissed each
of her eyelids. "Don't cry, baby," he soothed. "I know it's
uncomfortable, but you won't have to wear it all the time. Just
remember, Daddy is only doing this for your own good."
Jessica's heart sank to the pit of her stomach. Daddy. Kevin only
used that "name" when he was thoroughly bent on giving her a lesson she
would remember a long, long time. She would have to call him that from
now until he deemed her lesson complete and, with a full weekend of
isolation ahead, she suspected that wouldn't be any time soon. Like the
prearranged rules she would have to follow, the duration of the session
was his to command.
"What, no objections?" he teased, cuddling her close when the tears
began to flow again. He touched her cheek and wrinkled his nose in mock
disgust. "Then I think maybe I should draw you a bath."
Still gagged, Jessica stood in the middle of the upstairs hallway,
just outside the closed master bedroom door. Her jaw was starting to
ache from being held open so long, but she didn't dare remove the gag.
The most important rule was that she could neither move nor speak,
whenever she was capable, unless Kevin told her to. He had reminded her
of this as he led her up the great sweeping staircase, warning
unnecessarily that any attempts would be quickly countered with something
she definitely would not enjoy. It had taken only once for her to learn
her lesson, so here she she stood, legs slightly apart, hands clasped
behind her back, chin up, exactly as he had left her.
It was almost absurd, she reflected. They shared an equal
partnership in all other aspects of their marriage. They depended and
relied upon each other in similar measure. Yet his choice of punishments
was always based on the underlying theme of her complete and total
submission to him, the role of child to parent. Stranger still, she
never argued about that, before or after, but always fell unquestioningly
into the part of disobedient child. Was it because, somewhere, deep
down, she found total dependance and unquestioning trust enticing?
Jessica didn't have time to wonder about it. The door opened and
Kevin stood before her. He nodded approval at her obedience and then
held out his hand. All compliance, she took it and let him pull her into
their room. Behind her the door clicked shut and she glanced over her
shoulder just in time to see him put the key, now dangling from a thin
chain, around his neck and drop it down his shirt. He patted it once and
turned to smile at her.
"I've run your bath," he said, speaking as if she were a child.
"Now Daddy's going to get you ready."
He came around her and told her to stand still with her hands at her
sides, relaxed. Then he began to undress her. He took his time,
lingering over buttons and catches, while placing delicate kisses on each
patch of skin he exposed, including playful nips to her erect nipples.
When he had her bare to the waist, he moved behind her again and reached
around to fondle her naked breasts.
"Daddy's baby has such beautiful breasts," he murmured in her ear,
rolling them between his hands.
Jessica hardly heard. Already the blood was pounding in her ears
making it difficult to discern anything beyond her own labored breathing.
"Do you like that?" he breathed, his lips warm as they captured her
lobe.
"Mummmm." She leaned back against him, relishing each stroke of his
fingers that brushed against the sensitive sides and nipples.
He continued fondling her for several minutes then, suddenly,
pinched the rosy buds.
"Go lay on your back," he commanded sternly over her muffled squeak.
Jessica went to their large four posted bed, stripped now of all but
a fitted sheet, and lay down. Suppressing the urge to rub her injured
breasts, she stared up at the ornamental dowels of the canopy and waited
for what he would do next. She hoped he would remove the obtrusive gag,
but instead Kevin bent over her and efficiently relieved her of her wool
slacks and lace panties. If she had expected more loving caresses, she
was quickly disappointed. After a brief brush over the curling dark hair
between her trim thighs, he pulled her to her feet and, firmly taking her
by the elbow, guided her into the adjoining master bath.
The moment she was pulled through the door, Jessica froze, unable
to believe her eyes. The large carpeted dressing room had been dimmed
romantically to recessed lights and flickering candles. The air was
filled with the scent of roses, seeping from the steam that rose in
curling white wisps above the huge oval bath sunken its tiled alcove.
Sweet strains of music purred softly from hidden speakers somewhere above
the padded massage table that had been Kevin's second anniversary gift
and was now draped in welcoming pink towels. But none of that mattered.
It was the bulging rubber bag, suspended from a hook in the wall, with
its snaking hose and phallic nozzle, that captured and held her
attention.
"Mmmmmmmmf!" she cried through the gag, fighting the grip on her arm
and beginning to claw at the band fastened around her head. No! He
couldn't have known. There was no way he could have found out. Not
unless....
"Jessica Marie!" Kevin growled, snaring her flailing arms and
yanking them behind her as he propelled her further into the room.
"Behave or you know what's going to happen."
She already did and nothing could be worse. "Mmmmmmmm!" She shook
her head wildly, her eyes still riveted on the bag. No! No! No! She
fought and twisted and finally fell to her knees in a last ditch attempt
to halt their inevitable progress toward the beckoning table and its
monstrous purpose.
Keeping a firm grip, Kevin followed her to the carpet, pushing her
forward until she was laying on her stomach, her face to the floor.
Taking her wrists in one hand, he pinned her with a knee in the small of
her back and reached with his free hand to the cloth bag hidden under the
table. His "bag of tricks" he always called it. Ignoring her struggles,
he fished inside until finally producing a pair of familiar satin lined
handcuffs. In a few deft movements he had her wrists bound behind her
and abruptly stood, leaving her to twist wildly at his feet.
"God, you're beautiful like that," he said breathlessly, smiling
down at her.
She turned this way and that, but panic and fury kept her from
gaining her knees. She was still trying when her husband calmly went
back to the door and using the same key from around his neck locked it
as well.
"There now," he smiled again, wickedly this time. "Why don't we
talk about your visit with Marcus."
There were absolutely no doubts left. Jessica's world began to
crumble. Marcus. Doctor Marcus Goodrue. The quack. He had broken her
confidence, betrayed her to the only person likely to have any influence
over her. He must have seen past her bland assurances that she would
follow his orders to the letter and gone straight to her husband. Damn
him! Kindly condescending, he had challenged her right to choose for
herself.
Apparently sensing her mute condemnation, Kevin sighed and sat on
the floor beside her, pulling her, resisting and thrashing, until her
head was in his lap. Running his hand soothingly over her hair, he held
her captive and whispered over and over for her to calm down.
Jessica eventually did, though only because she had exhausted
herself and her stomach had begun to twist painfully in her gut. She was
breathing in quick shallow breaths through her nose, lack of air making
her dizzy.
Mindful of her distress, her husband loosened the band that held the
gag secure, but left his hand to keep it in place. "If I do, will you
promise to stay quiet?"
Desperate, she nodded. When the ball eased free, however, she began
to sputter angrily. Instantly, it was back at her lips.
"Jess, do I have to leave it?"
He would, she realized, glaring up at him. Defeated, she dropped
her chin and shook her head. Maybe if she was good and stayed calm, he
would allow her enough leverage to talk herself out of this.
"Do you promise to behave for Daddy?" Kevin asked, withdrawing the
gag.
Jessica nodded, dismally noting that he refused to break character.
"What was that?" he prompted.
"Yes.... Daddy," she said meekly, sealing her own role. Kevin had
been smart, he was using her own maneuvering, her faith in her
physician's silence, to put her in a position of limited, if any,
control.
"That's my good girl," he praised.
"Ke.... Daddy, may I speak?" Bound and helpless she would have to
play by his rules.
"Yes, I think that would be a very good idea. Why don't you start
by telling Daddy why you lied to him?"
"I... I didn't lie," she protested, hearing the note of contained
anger. "I showed you the diet."
Kevin clicked his tongue and she knew she was reaching. "And then
you said that was all you needed. You didn't tell me about the
medication, Jess. You didn't tell me there were any treatments. If I
hadn't had lunch with Marcus today, if he hadn't asked if you'd found the
right prescription, I wouldn't have known and you wouldn't be getting
well."
He said it as if it was a foregone conclusion. Falling into tears,
Jessica buried her face into her husband's knee. "Please don't do this
to me, Kevin. Please. I was going to see someone else, I swear."
"And what if they told you the same thing?" Kevin didn't fault her
lapse from character, genuinely concerned. "Would you have kept that
hidden too? Seen someone else again until you wound up in the hospital?
Marcus knows what he's doing, baby."
"He's a quack!" she wailed.
"Jessica! Just because a doctor prescribes a course of treatment
you don't like does not make him a quack. Marcus is a qualified
practitioner. You've never had any reason to question him before."
"I don't care. He's wrong and I won't do it. I won't let you."
"You will," her husband declared firmly. "And then you'll accept
the punishment you owe me."
"What?" Jessica was stunned. There was more to this than forcing
her to take the dreaded treatments? "Why? What for?"
"For making me look like a fool and for making me have to spoil our
weekend by doing this. It's obvious that you can't be trusted to take
care of yourself so I'm going to have to do it for you."
"No, you won't," she hissed, fear turning to outrage. She began to
twist again, determined to get free.
"Either I do or I call Marcus right now and have him do it while I
hold you down."
That threat chilled her to the bone. It was her worst nightmare
come true. That was one of the reasons she had rejected his treatments
to begin with. She hated enemas, loathed them. It had been her mother,
years ago, who had held her while the family doctor strapped her to the
examining table and pumped her full of syringe after syringe of some
nasty, stinging solution. It was humiliating, demeaning, and painfully
frightening for a helpless child, and had been repeated everyday,
sometimes twice, during the entire two weeks of her hospital stay.
Feeling just as helpless now, Jessica stared up at her husband with
imploring green eyes, tears tumbling down her pretty cheeks.
"What is it, Jess?" he asked softly. "Why all the fuss?"
She shook her head. She had never told Kevin, didn't think she
could. He only knew she hated being handled "back there" and though they
were both sexually curious, often adventurous, even in punishment he had
always respected her limits. The most he had even done was tease her a
little with the tip of his finger. It always scared her that the
sensation both terrified and aroused and she was terribly ashamed of it.
"Are you going to be good for Daddy?" he asked more confidently,
sensing victory was at hand.
Reluctantly, Jessica nodded. What else could she do?
"Hummm?"
"Yes."
"Yes...?"
She had no choice. She surrendered. "Yes, Daddy."
Pleased, Kevin pushed to his feet and helped her to stand. She was
shaking so badly he had to hold her close as he guided her the last few
steps to the massage table. Patting the pink towels, he instructed her
to sit while he went to place an experimental hand on the ominous rubber
bag.
"Still warm," he observed with satisfaction. "I ran it a little hot
so it wouldn't get cold while I was getting you ready."
Still fearful, Jessica willed herself to stay obedient. She watched
Kevin finger the nozzle and then turn to her dressing table where he
picked something up from among the clutter of her cosmetics. It was a
tube of K-Y jelly. He uncapped it and squirted a dab to test between his
fingers.
"Lie on your side, baby, and pull your knee to your chest," he
instructed without looking up.
That was too much. Jessica bolted. Leaping from the table, she
dashed for the door. She would run for the nearest spare bedroom, lock
herself in, and escape through the window and across the front balcony.
In her haste and panic, she forgot two things. First that her hands were
still bound and second that she was already locked in. Overcoming the
first, she spun her back to the door and grasped the knob. Only then did
she recall the second.
"Jessica." Kevin was standing unmoved, shaking his head at her
pathetic display. "You promised. Now that's two things you have to
atone for."
Setting the K-Y back on the dressing table, he started to come after
her. She ran from him, but couldn't get far. Backed into a corner, she
tried to kick him, but he stepped deftly to the side and grabbed her arm.
It was then, without forethought, that she made a regrettable mistake.
Twisting back, she bent and sank her teeth into his arm.
"That's it!" Kevin bellowed, jerking away so fast she spun. In the
same movement he scooped her up and threw her, kicking and screaming,
over his shoulder. With angry strides he crossed the room, pausing only
long enough to stoop and retrieve the abandoned ball gag.
Continued.........
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