Archive-name: Dreams/jenny.txt
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: What I'd like for Christmas...


A warm, tanned Jenny lying in front of the Yuletide fire.  Gift-wrapped in 
leather and steel. Watching my every move with wide eyes, above the foam that 
fills her mouth. At the right time, I'll remove that foam, and fill her 
mouth another way, but not now.  Firelight glints from heavy steel 
chains, locked to the padded cuffs on her wrists and ankles, spread-eagling her
before me.  The other ends of the chains are bolted to screw sockets concealed
by the pile of the carpet.  She moves and mumbles, trying to speak through the 
foam packing.  Soon she'll be trying to scream, but it won't come out any 
louder.

This is no uncertain, half-hearted game, like the other times. This 
time, there are no simple clips she can undo, but locks, small, strong brass 
padlocks, securing the tan leather to her wrists and ankles. I have the key. 
This time, she can't spit out a makeshift, loose-fitting gag and say "Stop!", 
the heavy, purpose-built strap holds the smothering foam very firmly in place.
This time,  I've prepared correctly, and I'm "following through".

Crackling flames highlight the sheen of the oil on her body.  For the last 
half-hour, since I first secured her, she's turned and twisted under my hands 
as I smoothed in the scented oil.  At first, she moved jerkily, abruptly, in 
a vain attempt to shield the secret recesses of her body from my flowing hands.
Soon, she was turning sensuously, languidly, to meet my fingers, trying to 
hasten the moments of pleasure to come, trying to dictate the pace. The chains 
restrict her movements, frustrating her demands, holding her at my whim.  
Time enough, Jenny, later.

I stand between her outstretched legs, savouring the play of the light on her 
curling pubic hair, already moist with her own fluid, the dampness betraying 
her arousal. Your own body defeats you, Jenny.  You struggle and grumble, but 
is it really freedom you want ?  Your body revels in its captivity, you tug on 
the chains and thrill to their unforgiving grip, like the tireless
embrace of a 
demanding lover.   You tense your thigh muscles, try to move your legs..... do 
you want to shield your womanhood from my eyes and hands, or do you seek to 
thrust it toward me, craving for it to be filled ?  Time enough, Jenny, soon.

Her eyes never leave mine for a second.  They're wide, part fearing, part 
wanting.  I never "followed through", she once said.  You dared me, Jenny, and 
here you are.... not a game any more, little lover.  This is real.  What's in
your mind, as I kneel between your parted legs?  Captivity ?  Helplessness ? 
Fear ?  We played before, you never placed yourself this much in my power then.
Time for doubts, Jenny, now.

Suppose, after all this time, I had lied ? What if I hurt you, now ? What if I 
gave you, not love, but pain ?  What if I took you down the _other_ road to 
orgasm, along which lies throbbing pain, perverting the mind until the 
hurt turns to pleasure and you come from pain alone ?  What if, from the 
closet I produced, not more instruments of gentle torment, but of pain, 
of scorching, degrading, controlling pain ?   Would you be able to handle 
your reactions, would you collapse before it, if I laced your sweet 
breasts with a whip ?  If I scored that gaping wet nether mouth of yours 
with lashes ?  Your struggling and tugging turns from sensuous to desperate 
as you recall, too late, that I never told you _all_ about that other woman, 
the one from whom I learned so much, many years before.  I never finished the 
story, did I ?   No time to turn back, Jenny, too late.

The cold sweat of panic dries on your body as you bring my face back
into focus 
and see, not pain or danger, but love, and mischief.  I place a pillow on the 
floor between your thighs, and lay my head on it, bringing my face level with 
your pouting, wet lips.    As my mouth closes softly over your burgeoning 
clitoris, and my fingers find my way inside you to massage that precious spot 
that turns you inside out, you feel the fire building, the tension, the 
pressure, the wanting.  Suddenly, you're not just playing with the chains, 
you're trying to rip them from their rings, you're an animal, you yell 
and snarl into the gag, but the strength of the steel defeats you, you can't 
free your hands to grab my head and crush it down onto your clit, you can't 
free your legs either to thrust your vagina up into my face or kick me away 
to stop the teasing, you can't free your mouth to beg for me to hurry, or to 
stop........   

Frustrating, isn't it ?   You're all mine, spread, helpless, naked, 
wanton, and what do I do ?  Do I rape you hard and fierce ?  Do I spend myself
in you and leave you sobbing and used ?  No, I make you wait, Jenny.  I make 
you take your time, make you feel the power building in you, bring you
slowly to 
the bigger and more shattering climax that comes with waiting and control   
Time to come, Jenny, the first time.

Writhe, Jenny, as my chains hold you in fire-warmed steel embrace, as my hands 
and tongue keep the liquid fire flowing in your belly.  Scream, Jenny, as my 
gag stops your voice as surely as my lips would.  Pant, swear, 
plead, Jenny, toss your head from side to side, trying to tell me 
"Enough, no more...".   I hear and understand your muffled begging, Jenny. 
I know what you're saying... but tonight we do this my way.  Sob, Jenny, 
cry in pleasure and joy and needing and humiliation and anger all at 
once, as you try very hard to tell me to "Stop! Now... please, don't, 
no, ....I can't take, ...I don't like..."   Yes, Jenny, you can... and 
you will.... You crane your head to look, wide-eyed, down your sweating 
and trembling body, trying to move away, to stop me somehow, anyhow, as 
I slip my wet finger deep into your anus, my thumb into your vagina, and 
roll them together.  You always/never did/didn't want me to do this, 
Jenny.... now the decision isn't yours anymore, and the feeling alone 
lifts your taut body into the air, arching off the floor in surpise and 
sensation.  Blush, Jenny as the firelight blurs in your tear-filled
eyes, flush 
crimson with shame for the way your body betrays you and craves the 
forbidden.
  
Open those eyes wide, very wide, Jenny, let me see those big brown pleading, 
loving eyes as I slide forward and put my erection where my mouth and 
hands have kept you so pleasantly occupied up to now.  Moan for me Jenny, as I
slip myself into you and feel those muscles bunching and twisting, feel your 
vagina quivering in the second climax.  Time to cry, Jenny, for pleasure.

Pant, Jenny, let me see those gorgeous breasts which I love so much,
heaving as 
you gasp for air, sucking huge breaths in through your nose as I drive as deep 
as I can into your womb.  Beg, Jenny, beg for it to stop, never to stop,
always 
to go on as my cock reaches deeper into your hot, fluid wetness than ever 
beforeand fills you with my exploding semen.  Fight, Jenny, fight the waves of 
red and black as you struggle not to pass out on the third climax.  Time to 
surrender, Jenny, to me.

Suck, Jenny, great sobbing lungfuls of air when I remove the foam strapped in 
your mouth.  Run your tongue around trembling, dry lips.  Now suck again, as I 
fill your mouth once more, this time with me.  Lick, Jenny, taste my come and 
your juices mingled on the flesh growing hard again in your mouth.  Scream, 
Jenny, scream onto my cock as I bend and take your clitoris into my mouth, 
sucking, biting, twisting, licking.    Swallow, Jenny, taste my come in your 
mouth, know that I have _made_ you do what you wanted to anyway, but had 
to be forced to. Time to come together, Jenny, you in me and me in you.

Worry, Jenny, think about the hours ahead of you, deep into this holiday 
night, think of the sweet torments and forbidden heights and depths to which 
I'm going to take you.  Picture the carol-singers in the snow-filled 
street outside,  their frost-clear voices supplying a sweet backing to
your own, 
much sweeter moans and screams. Imagine the lands of delight we have yet to 
visit, me leading you by the bound hands.  You're mine, Jenny, every cell of 
your body is mine..... just as I'm yours.

Merry Christmas, Jenny.
--