"Obsession" Part Four 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: ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/h_jekyll/ M/F, F/F, bdsm, cons., nc ----------------------- Once Kytn has been fed, has spent a period reciting her lines, has been bathed and tied to her bed to sleep, Jekyll assesses her. Kytn is tiny, what once had been called "a mere slip of a girl." Her strongest feature is her slenderness. His thumb and index finger have room to spare when they circle a wrist. She is so tiny at the waist that he thinks if he put one hand on her stomach and the other at the small of her back, his hands could almost touch; so tiny that if he were in her pussy or her ass and squeezed those hands together, he would almost feel the squeezing on his penis. It delights him that this tiny body can take such abuse; he becomes roused just thinking about it. It is better than with a large woman. Kytn's breasts are not large or memorable. Her pubic hair is light brown, almost straight, almost mousy, and not at all bushy. She is not muscled. Even with her welts her body looks almost pubescent, simply sweet, but Jekyll knows that looks can deceive. He knows what she has done. Still, it is much better to dominate something so innocent-looking, not a jaded whore or some highly toned athlete but something unspoiled. It is his job to spoil it. With this consideration, something moves within Jekyll's mind, something shifts; he begins to think of her not as the object of a cycle of pleasure and pain, delight and torment, but of pain and torment only. He can do as he will. He wonders how long he could torment her before she fell into decline. This change of thought doesn't come instantly, not like the clack inside a doll's head when the eyes open. No, it is more as though membranes are pulled out of the way, one after the other, until the thought is uncovered and becomes clear. It is just as inexorable, though. He finds the thought interesting, fascinating, irresistible. -------------------------- So it is that he removes her blindfold the next day and holds a scalpel in front of her eyes, so that its gleam is the first thing she recognizes when she can focus again. It is time to transform her body. "My sweet Kytn, you will be a work of art." He is going to carve a figure on her, a large, complex figure. He wants luck with her, that she will last for him and therefore help his pleasure flow a long time. What brings luck? He decides to carve a dragon. He makes her watch, warning her not to move or to cry out. He has a bet with himself about how long she can manage, and he hasn't decided just yet how to punish her when she fails. She is his canvas, but not a still one. She shivers as he begins carving flesh, pulling the scalpel blade ever so gently across her, using just enough pressure to cut, hardly enough to draw blood. Sometimes not enough pressure to draw blood, but enough that she can feel herself being cut. He draws the curved figure of the dragon, then its fins, then its wings, then its scales. He is a talented artist. The head goes over her right breast, her areola its eye, and her nipple its red pupil. He stops to lick away some blood, licking her slowly along the lines he has cut into her. He draws the details of its feet. It is slow and meticulous work. Across her belly, he draws the flame roaring from its mouth, and he cuts more deeply here to give the flame a flowing redness. Kytn holds herself rigidly, shaking but not flopping, keening continuously through the gag. Foam and snot cover her face; her eyes are insane. "Be careful, Kytn. You wouldn't want me to slip, now would you? To ruin my lovely etching?" As he speaks he is moving the blade over a fatty area, near her hip. He grins at her and pushes the blade into her, in, in, and Kytn can't help convulsing and shrieking as loudly as the gag will allow, loudly enough that it would have hurt his ears if her mouth were free. When he pulls the blade out there opens a half-inch long, deep, rhomboid-shaped slit that fills with almost black blood, then overflows. He sips at it, his penis waving around now like a wand, making magic. After letting it bleed awhile, he tapes the cut shut. He wants some more pleasure now, even if it will delay his masterpiece, so he removes her gag and has her suck on him. She is completely passive and obedient. He knows this lack of will is common in victims of torture, and it so pleases him to find it in her that he almost comes before he is ready. He has to pull out for a moment, to slow things down, before letting her pleasure his meat and give him maximum joy. After he pulls out she shows him the semen on her tongue, before swallowing. Finally he returns to his art. Kytn's moans are quieter. -------------------------- The rest of the day he makes her practice her obedience recitation, punishing her with pins when she falters. After some hours he wraps a wet rag around her face and slowly tightens it so that she cannot get enough air. When she finally passes out he brings her around and makes her start reciting again. He feeds her a minimal amount of food, something meaty, which she must earn by licking his ass, pushing her tongue up into him and sucking at him. She is so ravenous that even this does not keep her from trying to wolf the meal; he makes her eat slowly, a round of recitation between bites. He ties her elbows together tightly behind her back, as tightly as he thinks can without dislocating her shoulders. He braids her hair. Kytn is left for a moment while he goes to do something, then he is back with lengths of clothesline tied to large metal hooks. The hooks go through her hair, and in a moment he has threaded the rope through a pulley and has pulled her up by her scalp. This is so painful that she cannot keep from screaming and writhing, even when she vomits her dinner down her front. She is not able to say her lines through the pain. He leaves her hanging there, her scalp pulled out from her skull, until she loses consciousness. By the time he lets her down, the person Jekyll has become a god to her, a demon in human form, not of this world. -------------------------- The next day he lets her walk around the building, following him as he putters, her arms strapped behind her painfully, a leash at her neck. He has given her an enema, which she must work to keep from spilling. He has told her that in 90 minutes he will hurt her again. She cannot keep herself from watching the clock. How will he do it this time? He has promised to hurt her until she passes out. When he told her, she couldn't help whimpering and crying, though he commanded her to think of the joy the hurting brings him. -------------------------- Days have passed. Kytn is strapped to the bed, blindfolded, as usual. Jekyll has been gentle with her, caressing for the first time in eons, and obediently she loves him. She can't help herself. He says he will give her sexual pleasure, almost to orgasm but no more. If she wants orgasm she must pay for it by accepting a severe whipping. Does she understand? His word is always good. He caresses her sex, plays with her sex. He licks her vagina slowly. At first there is nothing inside her, no response. Everything besides the monotony of breathing and the need to love him has been driven from her body. She will never again feel pleasure, she thinks. She doesn't want to feel pleasure. He is patient, though. He goes about his task with slow deliberation, and after awhile, where there had been only a wasted, writhing victim, knowing only emptiness, there is a spark of desire. Only a spark, but he works it the way a mountain man would a spark from a flint, gently and steadily, to make the fire that will warm him all night. It works that way with Ktyn. After a length of time that could be minutes or hours, she feels the pleasure grow, slowly, then explosively, until she is aflame. She cannot resist. She feels it, and she lies quietly to let tendrils of pleasure move up her belly. How can he do this? She is reminded yet again that his power is not of this world. After awhile she is so aroused that she moves her sex against his face, moans, and cries, because she knows he will use her pleasure against her. She will never be allowed to come. Still, she cannot help herself, and says "please." He takes her higher, using just his lips on her clitoris until she approaches the crest. He keeps her there, keeps her whimpering, loving her inability to control herself. Then, he stops. "Now, Kytn. Are you ready to trade pain for your pleasure? Say 'yes' and you have explosive pleasure in store." Her mind and body argue the question. No, please dear God don't do this! Not in trade for the whip! Don't make me decide. Without using any words, though, her body almost wins. She finally makes herself say, "No, Master Jekyll, thank you," and he answers, "Very well," and leaves her. He closes the door behind him, so she is alone, immobile and sightless, her pleasure draining away only very slowly, unconsummated. She lies there for an hour before he returns to renew the soft strokes on her sex, the sucking on her nipples, the tickling of her anus. It takes almost no time to re-inflame her. When she is back to the crest, he stops and has her suck his prick, to give himself some relief. After she swallows he caresses her again. He says something, a line she had always thought hackneyed: "I will make your body sing." He is doing that to her. No one else has made her body sing, ever. Her muscles, her nerves, everything is seeking the crescendo. As before, he stops at her crest and asks her the question. Again she manages to turn down the offer, and he leaves her miserably aroused. The next hour is the same. Her desire never completely ends between sessions, so he gets her high very easily. When he leaves she moans and cries to herself and tries to bring her thighs together, to twitch her sex, anything to finish herself and save her from what she knows she will do soon. Finally, when he has brought her close to orgasm for the fourth time and puts the question to her, she cannot stand the thought of the pleasure slipping away, of having been so close to sexual paradise without feeling it. She says, "Yes, Master Jekyll, please finish me." His word is always good. He sucks and licks at her very softly, letting her build even more, not finishing quickly, stopping up the kettle to build pressure, softly licking her, until she is thrashing as much as she can while strapped down. She is begging, "please, now, now," tears dripping out from under the blindfold, but he just continues doing her softly, keeping her on a high plateau, loving these cries and these pleas as much as those of the hurting, until finally, finally, finally she feels the first preliminary vibrations way down in her belly that announce the rush to come, and then she is all spasms, jerking, screaming loudly. It continues on and on while he keeps licking her softly and she spins weightlessly in space; then it is done and she sinks deep into the mattress, hyperventilating, covered in sweat, overwhelmed with her love for him. After a bit he gets a whip and uses it methodically on her. Not on her front -- he doesn't want to mar the dragon. He unties her so she can kneel at the bed, arms reaching across to the other side, and then he gives her back, ass, and thighs one hard stroke every thirty seconds, for half an hour. He has to bring her around twice during it, to get her to experience it fully. She cannot make herself lie still for the beating, so he has to tie her. Afterwards, she sucks him again, half-conscious, her back-half on fire, whimpers escaping quietly around his cock.