|
Out of Control 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.
Out of Control, Part 1
Jennifer Underwood was a vivacious, charming woman. At 27,
she was the youngest securities broker in the company (Lewis
Taggart and Associates), and one of the best. She was, in her
employer's opinion, a rising star.
Jennifer stood a little over 5'3" and at 120 pounds, felt
that she was a tad plump -- not that any of the men in her office
would have agreed. She was rosy-cheeked, fresh, plump and
tempting -- a vividly beautiful woman. She wore her blonde hair
in a modern page-boy style. Everyone who knew her was struck by
her kindness, intelligence and femininity.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Jennifer taught a computer class
for adult students at the local high school. On Mondays, she
tried to make time to tutor her young niece in algebra. Thursdays
were reserved for catching up on work and reading for pleasure.
The weekends, however, were something else...
Every Friday after work, Jennifer would race home and change
into what she laughingly referred to as her 'special outfit' --
tight leather skirt and bustier, black silk stockings and garter,
and a pair of 6-inch metal-tipped stiletto opera pumps. For
jewelry, Jennifer would don a constricting leather choker and
ornate earrings; for a belt, a slender platinum chain. Dressing
was a ritual for her. Jennifer would watch herself transformed
from Good to Bad to Very, Very Bad in a full-length mirror.
But there was much, much more; her friends would never have
guessed, and her sister would have been shocked, but Jennifer was
delightfully, blissfully and uncontrollably lost in S&M.
It was never clear in her mind exactly when her present
fantasies took final shape; for as long as she could recall,
Jennifer had been turned on by masochism. As a young girl
watching slasher movies, or films where the female protagonist was
bound and threatened (particularly by a sadistic woman), she would
grow terribly aroused. In later years, as she become bolder, she
would get the same thrill from shopping in the various sex shops
in the area (her collection of toys was incredible).
Unfortunately, meeting people who shared her tastes was
difficult. Her early attempts at a heterosexual relationship were
unfulfilling, and had decided early on that she was a lesbian; but
most of the women to whom she had become attached had no interest
in the more exotic realms of sadomasochism.
Two events changed that. The first was when she'd found a
nightspot called Sfuzzi's. The clientele was mostly gay, mostly
women, and within weeks Jennifer had found a wonderful woman with
whom she could explore her fantasies. Gwen was just as aroused by
domination as Jennifer was by submission; until Gwen's job moved
her to Taos, they had spent many, many incredibly charged hours
together.
The second event was Jennifer's discovery of an e-mail
catering to bondage. Sitting at her home computer terminal 'in
uniform,' she would peruse the messages, responding to the
interesting ones, laughing at the occasional condemnations,
masturbating to a fierce orgasm throughout the episode.
She came to recognize the pseudonyms, and in particular
followed the messages posted by one 'Arista,' female by
declaration (although you never could tell for ure), dominatrix
by preference, and sublimely extreme by content (her stories
were always terrifying and exciting).
Arista had responded to Jennifer's private e-mail, and for
months they'd carried on an interesting correspondence. She was
(or so she said) an accountant in Houston, never married, and
currently sans partner. Arista had described herself as a slim
5'11" at 135 pounds, with smooth black hair. Jennifer fell
immediately in love, and they conversed for months on a variety of
subjects, until one day late in May Jennifer found the following
message on her system:
Darling Jen!
Wonderful news...the construction's finished on my
new home in Corpus Christi (it took extra time for
the Dungeon, and imagine the look on the foreman's
face when I insisted on stone slabs and ironworks!)
My hand trembles as type this -- Jennifer, would
you give me the pleasure of entertaining you as my
guest? I can't stop dreaming about you (!) and now
that I can accomodate our Strongest Desires, won't
you consider it? I promise you the Ultimate Joy...
Give my love to Patricia, and send your reply ASAP
(for once, you now control me!).
Arista
Jennifer smiled at the reference to Patricia; her sister knew
she was a lesbian, but would have been shocked at her truer
proclivity.
She thought for a while, then checked her appointment
calendar; Taggart et al could spare her for one week, certainly.
As she sat back down at her terminal to type her reply, Jennifer
found her hands shaking with anticipation and a familiar silky
warmth in her breasts.
They had agreed to meet at a club called the Plantation;
Jennifer intended to rent a car at the airport ad drive directly
there. Arista wrote to tell her that she would be wearing a red
rose pinned to her breast. From there they would go back to
Arista's house and...enjoy each other.
On the day of her flight, Jennifer phoned her sister
Patricia.
"Rachel's going to miss her study night," Patricia said when
Jennifer had informed her she would be out of town.
Jennifer laughed. "I'm sure she'll find a nice boy who'll
help her understand polynomials."
"Can I drive you to the airport?" asked Patricia.
"Thanks, Trish," Jennifer replied, "I'll just leave my car
out there."
"Alright," Patricia said. "Any new women in your life?"
Jennifer smiled to herself. "No one definite, but after this
week, who knows?"
"Well, good luck, sis, and have a nice time in Corpus."
"Talk to you in a week."
Jennifer put her bags in the hallway, took a look around her
apartment and left.
She would never see it again.
*** END OF PART ONE ***
|
|
