JENNY: A Novel of Sexual Enslavement

by C. A. Tessler

  This was the ultimate threat for Eric. Being without his beloved, after waiting twenty-four interminable hours, was anathema to him. When Jenny took his dick in her mouth again, he put his hand on the back of her head and, as she began to slide her mouth down, he pushed hard. Jenny felt the head of his dick pop into her throat, then go three inches further. She hadn't remembered to relax, and she instinctively tried to pull herself off him. Eric could feel her head pulling up, and let go.

  "Oh, gawd, Jenny, did I hurt you? Please don't say that I hurt you."

  It had hurt, but Jenny wasn't about to say so. "That was good, Eric," she gasped. "Do it just like that. Once you're down my throat, let me back up, then pull me down again."

  "Jenny, honest, you don't have to do this for me."

  You're right, said Jenny to herself. "But you have to do it for me," and she took his dick in her mouth again.

  The second time, Jenny was a bit more prepared. She managed to exhale a little before the dick racing toward the back of her mouth reached its target. As soon as he was down her throat, Eric relaxed his grip. He wasn't nearly as worried about hurting Jenny this time because the sensation of getting his dick down Jenny's throat was overpowering. No sooner had Jenny lifted her head up than he pulled her down again. No wonder my master said women are tougher than men, she said to herself. No man would ever put up with this.

  Jenny struggled mightily to regulate her breathing and to keep her throat from tensing up. One stroke would be bearable, but then the next would catch her at an odd angle and she would tense. The worst part, though, was that taking a man down her throat was not at all erotic. Jenny wanted to relax, perhaps get aroused. She wasn't relaxed, though. Only a slut would enjoy this, she told herself. Or a hot little cocksucker.

  Eric was now pulling on her head with a will and for a moment, just a brief moment, Jenny felt the strength and power that was one of the things that made a man attractive. She couldn't notice it for long, though, because Eric suddenly had an orgasm. It was just like the day before, as much on her as in her. The whole thing had happened so fast that it was over almost as soon as it had begun.

  Jenny hadn't liked it very much, but she tried to be upbeat. In an effort to salvage something from the experience, she had a quick conversation with herself.

  Jenny, find something positive in this. How about, it was over quickly. Works for me.

  Eric had a rather different take on things. The stimulation had been incredibly intense. He went from nothing to orgasm in about three minutes. "Jenny, that was even better than yesterday, and yesterday was perfect. I mean, I've heard about stuff like that, but I didn't think a girl could actually do it. It does happen pretty fast, though, like bang, bang, bang, you're done. You're OK, aren't you?"

  "Yes, I'm OK," she said. That is, now that's it's over I'm OK. Now it's time for the really difficult part. "Eric," she said, letting her voice rise slightly, "don't you want to make love to me?"

  "More than anything else in the world," said Eric with feeling. While still on her knees, Jenny turned around so that Eric could remove the fastener binding her wrists. Instead, when he knelt behind her he put his hands on her shoulders and compressed her upper body like he was squeezing a melon. Then he slid his hands down her front and squeezed her breasts. His dick was pressed against one of Jenny's hands.

  Jenny decided that a little foreplay might get her aroused, so she pressed her hand against Eric's dick and let him play with her.

  Once in this position, Eric changed his mind about Jenny being bound. It now excited him. He put his hands on Jenny's back and pushed her forward. Before she realized what was happening, Eric was pressing against her, trying to get inside her. It was an odd feeling, being bent over with her hands bound behind her.

  She thought for a moment that she should ask Eric to unbind her hands, but then decided against it. All I want is for him to get me aroused. "Eric," she said, "I want you to make me have an orgasm. Just do what I tell you, OK?"

  "Anything you say, Jenny," he said as he bent over her.

  Maybe if I talk really sexy to him it will get me excited, Jenny said to herself. She tried to put as much heavy breathing into her words as she could. "Go really slowly at first. Don't put it all the way in now. Build up to it. Put it in at an angle, from the left, from right, pushing up." When he did push up as he stroked in, Jenny felt a little rush. "Yes, just like that, only don't do it that way every time. Pull it almost all the way out before you put it back in, and keep going slowly until I tell you speed up." It felt very strange to her, bound and bent over with her head on the floor, to be giving instructions to Eric. She was the one who was completely helpless, and yet she was telling him how to make her enjoy it. She couldn't describe how she felt, but she knew she was not the one in control.

  Eric was deeply aroused by Jenny's instructions. He could feel her squeezing his dick every time he stroked into her. He wanted to get completely inside her sooner than she wanted him to, but he managed to hold off for a few strokes.

  Jenny could feel herself, slowly, very slowly, getting aroused. She strained against her bindings, and the knowledge that she couldn't get loose unless Eric freed her frightened her a little. She tried to move forward to show herself she had some freedom of movement, but Eric put his hands firmly around her waist and pulled her back onto him. The ease with which Eric did this made her realize just what her position was. She could lift her feet off the floor a little and she could wiggle her hips, but she could move nothing else. Eric was the one doing all the moving, and the more he moved the more she noticed it.

  Every time Eric would catch her the right way, she had no outlet for the arousal he was causing. Had he been on top of her, she could have squeezed his shoulders, could have moved her head to one side, could have straightened or bent her legs. Now, with her head pressed against the floor, her hands bound, and Eric firmly holding her waist, she had only one outlet: her voice. She moaned, then yelped, then finally began making strained little cries that rose in pitch.

  Eric, of course, did not fail to notice. The realization that he was completely in control of the situation had a strange and powerful fascination. Hundreds of times he had imagined himself with Jenny, but never like this. And yet, she had told him to bind her wrists and she was, as far as he could tell, enjoying herself.

  He no longer needed Jenny's instructions. He decided to patiently drive Jenny to the orgasm she had asked for. He began experimenting with her, using short strokes, then long, holding himself inside her and tensing his dick. Jenny was beside herself. She didn't know whether she should hate it or love it, but the one thing she could not do was ignore it. She slipped ever closer to an orgasm, then felt a surge which drove her to the edge. She teetered there for a few moments then, just as Eric gave her a few quick strokes, fell into a convulsive orgasm. It only took a few of Jenny's spasms to cause Eric to have an orgasm himself.

  To Jenny, the whole experience had a wild, primitive aspect. Her orgasm was nothing like the orgasm she had had with Gary on the picnic table, a sweet, sexy, seductive orgasm, the type she had thought she might have with Eric. But then, she reasoned, Eric was nothing like Gary. Just as she had the day before, she could feel Eric's orgasm inside her, something she had rarely felt before. With her boyfriend, she frequently had to ask, 'Did you?' I'll never have to ask Eric that question, she thought.

  Eric's orgasm had been intense, perhaps, he thought, better than yesterday's. He remained inside her for a few more strokes. After he pulled out of her, Jenny sat up, thinking he would undo her wrists. Eric was about to do just that. Being as close to her as he was, though, made him almost instinctively reach around Jenny and squeeze her breasts. He had been too shy to play with her the day before. Four orgasms in two days had banished his shyness, and her complete availability was irresistible.

  Jenny was still in the throes of whatever it was that had just happened to her, and she didn't want more stimulation. She tried to wiggle away, but at 109 pounds s
he couldn't possibly free herself from Eric. In fact, the wiggling simply aroused Eric. He could feel his dick pressing against her left hand. He moved back a few inches, and wrapped Jenny's fingers around it. Jenny could feel that he was very wet and slippery. He's on my face, he's inside me, and now he's on my hands, she said to herself. There aren't many places left.

  The awkward position of her hand made it impossible for her to squeeze him, not that she wanted to, but it made no difference to Eric. He squeezed, then massaged her shoulders, rubbed her back, ran his hands up and down her sides, then played with her breasts again. Jenny could only strain against the fastener holding her wrists together.

  After a few minutes of this, Eric was so happy with the arrangement that he saw no reason to unbind Jenny. He just wanted to hold her, squeeze her, feel himself next to her. He also wanted to say something. He groped for the words to tell Jenny exactly how he felt, but didn't know what to say. That didn't stop him from speaking, or rather mumbling incoherently. As he ran his hands over Jenny's body, he happened to run his hand in a circle on Jenny's stomach. He suddenly had an inspiration.

  "Jenny, remember when I wrote you a letter and told you that your stomach was as beautiful as a field of wheat? Well, it is, it really is."

  Jenny remembered. How could she forget? Her friends had laughed uproariously when she told them. In fact, she told several of her girlfriends about it. During one such retelling, an English teacher overheard her and told her that Eric was quoting from the Song of Solomon in the bible. "Pretty well read boy," he remarked. That didn't keep Jenny and her friends from laughing about it, and she almost laughed now when Eric repeated it.

  Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Jenny couldn't appreciate the bitter irony of Eric's compliment. Fifty years ago, right wing Christians had been the most vocal supporters of the dismantling of the Constitution. When that led to the re-establishment of slavery, they protested but not very loudly. Ever since, they had made only half-hearted appeals for the abolition of female slavery, and now Eric was quoting from their sacred book to compliment a slave. To many, it would have seemed entirely appropriate.

  Jenny, though, wasn't thinking about who supported or didn't support female slavery. After surviving Eric's compliment, and letting loose only a small snicker, she decided she had to try to retake control of the situation. "Eric," she said softly, "I want to try to get all of your dick in my mouth again."

  "Mmmmmmmmmm," said Eric, "you really want to?" he asked as he kneaded her breasts. It was almost too much for him. She had already given him a blow job and had sex with him, all with her hands bound behind her. Now she was asking for more. "OK, gorgeous." He let go of her, slid back a few feet, and sat in the chair.

  Jenny, now that she was going to try again to get Eric down her throat, thought her hands should remain bound. It was difficult, though, to crawl over to Eric on her knees with her hands behind her. I must look pretty stupid, she thought to herself, as she took small steps with her knees. Just as she was about to reach the chair, she stumbled and her face fell against Eric's dick. Gawd, she thought, that must have looked great.

  She took Eric in her mouth and felt his hand on the back of her head. He laced his fingers through her hair and put his free hand on her shoulder. He didn't pull her head down, though.

  "Go slowly at first," said Eric. "It really feels good when you do. I'll pull your head down in a bit."

  So much for taking control, thought Jenny. She stroked him as he had asked her to, moving him slowly to the back of her mouth. After a few strokes, he shifted a bit in the chair and gripped her head more firmly. Get ready, Jenny said to herself, and in a moment he was down her throat. He gasped and let her up. It was several more seconds before he pulled her down again.

  This second round of taking Eric down her throat was a little easier for Jenny, but she wasn't ready to claim that she could do it on her own. She did, however, get him down her throat many more times than she did on the first blow job because it took Eric much longer to have an orgasm. It still wasn't erotic, though, and she was not enjoying herself.

  Even though Eric had now had three orgasms, he didn't feel at all diminished. The reason was as much psychological as physical. He was young and, since Jenny was the first girl he had really had sex with, he had all the energy that a first lover can inspire. But he was also deeply in love, and Jenny had asked him – asked him, Eric Schubner – to make her have an orgasm. He could have worn out a sultan's harem, provided every girl was Jenny. Fortunately for Jenny, he could only stay two hours. When his time was finally up, he held Jenny's wrists in his hands for a moment, lightly fingering the fastener that bound her. This little gadget, he thought, has made what would have been a great day even better. He took off the fastener, but then, as though he had released Jenny herself, and not just her hands, embraced her again from behind.

  "See you again tomorrow?" he murmured in her ear, and it sounded more like a statement than a question.

  "OK, Eric," she said. He cleaned up and dressed. Jenny sat on the floor, waiting for him to leave. Before he did he bent down, kissed her on the forehead, and whispered, "Bye, beautiful." The boy, who barely twenty-four hours earlier was painfully hesitant, walked out of Jenny's room thinking of wonderful sex, the girl he loved, and fasteners.

  Jenny tried to understand what had happened. She didn't have that queasy feeling she used to get when she first started making out with boys, but she did feel something, something unsettling and uncomfortable. She wasn't sure whether she had changed, or whether sex had changed. And, worse, she wasn't even sure that she had had sex with Eric. Yes, she gave him a blow job, yes, they screwed, but it felt so different from all the other times she had been with a boy. It was even different than the sex she had with Eric the day before.

  She cleaned up and brushed her teeth. After lying down, she thought again about obeying her master, about trying to enjoy sex, and about the changes that her master said were sure to happen to her. One thing is clear, she said to herself. The old Jenny, the Jenny of just a few days ago, would never have done what I did today.

  CHAPTER IX

  Maurice Tirpitz, in the early evening of Jenny's third day at DiMarcos, set out to see his new slave and hear her account of Eric's latest visit. On the way, he stopped at the small room the escorts used for an office. It was part of the escorts' job to keep track of the number of visitors every BB had each day. The board in their office was also used to note which BB's were currently occupied. Maurice noted that there was a red 'X' next to room six, which was Jenny's room, indicating that she was not alone.

  "Who's with her?" Maurice asked the escort manning the office.

  "Tony, I think," replied the escort. Tony was himself an escort.

  "Ya know, that slave is one hot little girl," the escort said. Maurice happened to be speaking with the escort who had been with Jenny just prior to her meeting with Eric. "She's really getting into it." The escort gave Maurice a brief description of his afternoon's visit with Jenny.

  "Just be sure you spread yourself around," said Maurice. "Don't gang up on my slave just because you like her more than the others."

  "Oh no, sir, I wouldn't do that. I went to see the blond today, too." The escorts were expected to visit every slave. Indeed, there was a column on the office's board which was used to record escorts' visits. But, as everyone knew, it was an easy matter for an escort to note that he had visited one slave even though he had actually been with another. The trainers did little to correct this practice. They knew it was simply human nature for the escorts to have preferences. The trainers also knew that the slave preferred by today's escort would not necessarily be the favorite of tomorrow's. The turnover for escorts was very high. Being young males suddenly given free and unlimited access to slaves, they usually bonked themselves out in a few months, even though they only worked four days a week. In addition, any escort who developed a normal relationship outside DiMarcos invariably quit his job. Rare indeed was the girlfrien
d who would tolerate a boyfriend who worked at DiMarcos.

  It was another half hour after the brief exchange between the escort and Maurice before Tony walked into the escorts' office. He had a silly little grin but, following the unwritten code among escorts which kept them from complimenting a slave too much, lest there develop among the escorts an unpleasant rivalry for her time, said only that the slave in room six was pretty. The escort at the desk smirked when he heard this. Maurice waited a few minutes after Tony's return to allow Jenny to clean up, then directed his steps to room six.

  Jenny had spent forty-five minutes with Tony, and the last ten had been rather frantic. A slave's first encounter with an escort, once that slave was on the path to being sexualized, was frequently an erotic experience for the slave. That morning, Jenny had put herself on that path. Now, after trying to enjoy herself with three different partners, she was having second thoughts about the direction she had chosen. She was sure that if she avoided enjoying sex while at DiMarcos that her self-imposed restraint and the inevitable punishments that would follow would turn her into a very strange girl. She was equally sure that three plus years of obedient slavery would turn her into an insatiable nymph. She could see no middle ground.

  When Maurice entered room six, he found its occupant sprawled out on her blankets. Eric and the two escorts had worn her out, emotionally. Physically, she was still very much on edge from her repeated exertions and, though it had been difficult to get herself going earlier in the day, she now found it difficult to calm herself. That she was still aroused indicated to her that she could handle a fourth partner, but her mind told her to stop. She was suffering under a reversal of the old adage, with which she was unfamiliar, that the spirit may be willing but the flesh is weak.

  Maurice understood that it took time for new slaves to sexually acclimate themselves, and he certainly didn't expect Jenny to accomplish this in a mere three days. Since the escort had spent more than half an hour with Jenny, Maurice supposed that she was already screwing her visitors, which put her ahead of her training schedule. He therefore decided to ask Jenny for only a description of her encounter with Eric rather than a demonstration. When he didn't take off his clothes before he sat down, Jenny was relieved, in mind if not in body.