Tangled Passions Pt. 02 Ch. 23-25

XXIII.

Jenn looked around. She saw naked writhing bodies; smelled the redolence of sweat and love, sickly sweet in the air; she heard the low inarticulate animal roar of lust. She was both a part of and apart from her surroundings. There was a paradoxical tranquility deep in the throes of group sex. They say drowning is a peaceful way to go. Perhaps she was drowning – smiling into the video camera that so often ran now during the evenings – she felt herself plunging, falling deeper and deeper into strange, uncharted waters.

Where Matt had shed his responsibilities with his clothing, Jenn shed her reserve. She cloaked her nakedness in a veil of promiscuity. Yet, it was much more than simple promiscuity. Jenn had a desperate need to know what her earlier life had kept so well hidden. No longer sheltered by the protective shroud of middle-class domesticity, she felt exposed. And with that exposure came desire. She wanted to expose herself to everything – every stimulation and experience that mainstream society had withheld. Nowshe could decide what, if anything, was too much. She hadn't found any limits yet. Jenn reveled in complete freedom from inhibition; freedom to indulge in every sexual variation, realize every sexual fantasy.

In some perverse way, she felt that she had finally found what she had always been looking for – something to satisfy that indefinite but persistent longing; something to fill that vague emptiness. She had an odd feeling that it had been a mistake that she – they – hadn't been doing this before. As much as she didn't understand, she allowed her own feelings of gratification to carry her along further and further into the labyrinth of sexual adventures – sexual domination and submission.

Lisa had been rushed and on edge after class. She hadn't allowed them time to shower, rushing both Jenn and herself back to the apartment. However, the moment they had got in and closed the door, she pushed Jenn roughly to the floor.

"Get your clothes off," she ordered. There was an edge of impatience colouring the passion in her voice. Within moments, following a violent whirlwind of Spandex clothing, Jenn found herself lying on the carpet with Lisa pinching her nipples, pulling her labia and licking the sweat from her. A climax was forcefully ripped from Jenn’s body. Only in the breathless aftermath of her own spending could she begin to concentrate on servicing Lisa – serving out the slow, relentless stimulation that invariably, eventually brought Lisa to orgasm, without the interference of Jenn’s own arousal. Lisa was admittedly egocentric. She had often declared that she wanted Jenn's undivided attention. At times, they would find it necessary to stop midway, just to get Jenn's next orgasm out of the way, before proceeding with Lisa's.

"Sometimes," Lisa said impatiently, while sitting on Jenn, holding Jenn's head to her bush, "your hands just seem to be a bother.” She pushed Jenn's hands away from her super-sensitive nipples. “Maybe we should tie them out of the way." At that, Lisa jumped off and pulled some silk scarves out of the bedside drawer. Still recovering from her own orgasm, Jenn passively allowed Lisa to arrange her on the bed, and fasten both her wrists to the corner posts. But once done, Lisa began mercilessly arousing Jenn's clitoris. Inevitably, Jenn's legs began to writhe involuntarily. “Will you stay still?” Lisa scolded.

“I can’t,” Jenn whimpered in reply.

“That’s it then!” There was obviously a need to secure her ankles. Jenn watched dreamily as Lisa tied her ankles to the bed’s lower corners. Stroking Jenn’s sopping sex, Lisa repeatedly brought her to the very precipice before pulling back and demanding an orgasm of her own first. She rode to climax after climax on Jenn's face, sometimes allowing Jenn a release in between, sometimes not. From that point on bondage became, if not a regular, then a frequent part of their day. Lisa became very proficient at tying the passively cooperative Jenn to a bed.

Presently a routine developed; Jenn, strapped spread-eagle on the bed, was aroused mercilessly. Repeatedly teasing her to the edge of orgasm with fingers, feathers, vibrators and balms, Lisa would suddenly stop and demand oral tribute, lowering herself, frontwards or backwards, onto Jenn's face. Other times she would just sit back to study the situation; still other times she would actually leave the room. Jenn would cry out piteously for what seemed to her hours, sometimes to no avail.

“Would you be quiet in there?” Lisa called from the other room. “You’re squalling like a spoiled baby.” Jenn tried to stifle her complaints, dropping her entreaties to a hoarse whisper. Still, on the pretense that she was making far too much noise, Lisa rolled an extra silken scarf and tied it around Jenn’s head, effectively gagging her. During subsequent sessions, Lisa would do this immediately after her own orally affected orgasm.

It had come about so fast. Suddenly they were right into it, and, although she wouldn't initially admit it to herself, Jenn soon relished the helplessness of her own bondage. Essential bondage had transcended effortlessly into the physical realm.

Once again, Lisa secured Jenn to the bed, this time, however, with cuffs and matching anklets she had recently added to their regalia. Thick laminated black leather, they were about two inches wide, with large D-rings integrated opposite the strong stainless buckles that were riveted securely, fastening on the outside. Only the padded inside surface, covered with supple suede, touched the skin. They fit firmly but not uncomfortably, and fastened easily to sprung hooks at the end of the tie-downs attached inconspicuously to the corner posts of the bed. The collar that came with the set was virtually the same as the cuffs and anklets except that it had rings on either side as well as at the front, opposite the buckle. “It’s just for the aesthetic completion of the outfit,” Lisa explained as she fastened it. Something about the fitted leather appliances excited Jenn at a base level. She was almost embarrassed by her delight. To say she got used to them immediately was an understatement. “They’re actually a lot more comfortable than the scarves,” she rationalized with herself.

Then, firmly secured to the bed, Jenn watched appreciatively as Lisa presented her with a studded leather and rubber buckled ball gag. Jenn was ecstatic. Something – some primitive emotion or feeling – something she didn’t understand deep within her psyche suddenly glowed bright. Even so, some more objective part of her mind considered the bizarre strangeness of the situation as Lisa fitted the device. How could she be so thrilled with such a frightening, perverse object? How did she get herself into this? And she wasn't just accepting it, she loved it. Oh, what a tangled web we weave.

Occasionally Lisa left Jenn bound and gagged all night, tormenting her now and then by bringing her to the edge of a climax and abandoning her – again and again, throughout the night. Of course, other times she would just masturbate Jenn continuously, bringing her to dozens of nonstop orgasms. Along with the accessories of submission Jenn, it seemed, had donned a hungry willingness. In many ways, she was as much perpetrator as victim in their apparent oppression. Lisa had only to say, "Get on the bed!" and Jenn would feel the let down of juices in her sex.

Unable to wait for Lisa's order, Jenn whispered, "Tie me."

“Oh, aren’t we impatient?” Lisa replied with a sinister tinge. Without another word she tied and gagged Jenn, then proceeded to bring her to the very edge of orgasm and keep her teetering there for a few minutes. Then, abruptly she left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Tied and gagged, eyes wide, thighs quivering, Jenn waited and waited. But Lisa didn't return until late the next morning. The unrelieved, unrelievable frustration of the night, compounded by a full bladder in the morning, was excruciating. Standing at the foot of the bed, Lisa surveyed her victim, listening to Jenn’s desperate moans around the gag. “I hope you’ve learned something tonight. Goodness knows what you’ll be denied if you ever ask again.” Thrilling in its own torturous way, it was not an experience Jenn was eager to repeat.

For a while, their forays into the world of bondage remained theirs alone. During communal sex, their relationship stayed one of gentle curves as opposed to kinks. Jenn knew she still had a lot to learn, a long way to go. It was where she would be when she got there that was never too clear, but, for now at least, the thrill lay in the journey. The orgies – parties with their endless parade of cocks and cunts, ever varying, ever the same, consumed two or three nights most weeks. Why they hadn't yet tired of it was beyond Jenn, but she hadn't. She luxuriated in a sea of eroticism and sensuality. It was Erica Jong's zipless fuck to the Nth degree. It continued to be wonderful.

Left again, bound and gagged and highly arouse, Jenn lay alone with only her thoughts. Lisa had disappeared for what seemed like a very long time. “Not the whole night, please,” Jenn worried, running the evening over in her head. Had she done something to raise Lisa's wrath? She couldn't think of what she might have done wrong; of course, maybe she hadn't done anything wrong. Maybe this was just something else – another lesson. When Lisa finally returned she had with her, to Jenn's admittedly irrational horror, another woman. They talked in the room as if Jenn wasn't there; talked about her as if she couldn't hear; then the visitor, whom Jenn could not remember ever having met, walked to the bed and proceeded to bring her to multiple climaxes while Lisa just sat and watched. Being able to see Lisa sitting so demurely only served to heighten Jenn's excitement. Mewing around the gag, she tensed and relaxed her limbs against their bonds, flopping her head from side to side as the sensations peaked. "She comes very easily, doesn't she?" the woman remarked, wiping her face on the proffered towel. "That is sometimes a mixed blessing." With that, Lisa and the stranger left the room, leaving Jenn to ponder the significance of the stranger and her cryptic parting remark.

It had been simply an initiation into a new aspect of her life, Jenn was soon to discover. For in the days and weeks that followed, they were visited under the same circumstances by lots of different women, many of whom Jenn knew or recognized. Always bound when they arrived, Jenn was initially treated as she had been the first time – without any direct communication. They would eat her out or work her with a large dildo, until she was gushing and writhing. If her gasping and whimpering and tossing became too much for the author of her response, the woman would, without a word to Jenn, stab her with a double ended phallus and, baring her own sex, climb aboard to ride to an orgasm of her own. One, as often as not, Jenn would share.

Gradually, however, the loose routine changed as they first spoke to her, then, bit by bit, began to loose her bonds. First it was Agnes, who, after drawing several orgasms from Jenn, could stand no more herself and removed the gag to lower herself onto Jenn's eager mouth. Slowly others followed suit. "Here, let me undo these so you can pull your knees up," "Do me with your fingers." The straps had done their job. Jenn had learned her lesson. She remained motionless on the bed whether the bonds had been released or not, and only moved in response to specific instruction. Again, the odd, perverse thrill of essential bondage – again and again.

Lisa had a small tattoo, red with a blue outline, on her left breast. It was a very dainty heart. Not until one got very close did it reveal the inside detail. It was in fact, a heart with a leering fanged mouth. Jenn was fascinated, and admitted that she had often toyed with the idea of getting a tattoo. "A little surprise for Matt," she said quietly, suddenly saddened by his absence from her life. "Maybe I should get one, for when he comes back, eh?" she said, almost to herself. She wasn't sure if he ever would, now. Lisa just smiled.

Only days later, they were in the tattoo parlour looking at possible designs. Jenn suggested getting a small butterfly on her shoulder. “Oh, Jenn,” Lisa pooh-poohed, “really! That’d be entirely too commonplace for you – the new you. You need something with some sting to it.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How ‘bout ‘BONDAGE BABE’?”

“You’re kidding?” Jenn looked at her friend and mistress incredulously.

“Well,” Lisa admitted, “maybe that’s a bit over the top. But what…?” After more discussion, Jenn was convinced to get the words ‘LOVE HURTS’ inscribed high up on her inner thigh. She was embarrassed but thrilled to lie in her skimpy panties on the table for the ex-biker artist. It seemed to be all one to him, but it was the smiles she exchanged with Lisa, standing there watching, that promised excitement later.

It had all started out as an adventure but it had become something of an obsession, and finally, effectively, an addiction. But Jenn was not only addicted to the thrill of the forbidden, she found herself becoming addicted to the orgasms – her multiple, multiple orgasms. Sometimes her life seemed to be just one continuous orgasm. It became apparent that this was more than pleasure-centre association; it was pleasure-centre dependency. And like any addiction, she found she needed more and more to satisfy her craving; it became harder and harder to sate her desire. Having turned down work too often, she was no longer called. It was just as well. Her whole existence was spent in anticipation or pursuit of sexual charging and sexual release.

At some point Jenn casually let it out that she had only had anal intercourse with Matt a few times. "An almost virgin dirt chute?" Lisa declared, "That's no good." She paused before pointing out, "The anus is, you know, generally speaking, the most sadly neglected erogenous zone." Leaving Jenn with a leering wink, Lisa went about her business. Jenn thought about why she had withheld that aspect of her body from Matt. In light of her new and progressively bizarre –perverse – experiences, such moral reluctance seemed rather pointless. All things considered, now it was basically a question of 'sheep or lambs'. Over the next relatively short era of Jenn's ever-changing existence, Lisa began, not infrequently, to position or tie Jenn face down, with a pillow beneath her hips. In that presentation, Lisa could, and did, start introducing phalluses to Jenn's backside. Initially pressing small, slim vibrators against Jenn's puckered rose until it just began to give way, Lisa inexorably, over a few weeks, increased the size and pressure of the assaults until she could satisfactorily insert the large double ender into Jenn's ass and ride it herself to orgasm. The novel sensations that emanated from her plugged rectum and stretched anus were very soon assimilated into Jenn's repertoire of delights. Inevitably her penchant for butt-bucking, as they called it, became known to their inner circle of women friends and Jenn's backside became a source of pleasure for many of them.

Alone together, Jenn's relationship with Lisa was forever dynamic. Jenn realized that while they were at home – Lisa’s home –Lisa treated her more and more like a slave; the beneficent mistress, giving orders, setting tasks. “Do this.” “Get that.” “Bend over.” The adventure continued; to Jenn, it was still part of an interesting game – and perhaps it still was. She played along in any case. Naked, or just clad in a garter belt and a choker necklace – suggestively submissive – or, more often, wearing only her leather accouterment, Jenn served food and drink to Lisa, drew her bath, laid out her clothes, made the bed, and performed any other menial task that Lisa required of her. Jenn wasn't sure why she allowed herself to be treated like a common servant. She wasn't sure how her sense of dignity, her sense of self tolerated it, yet she never balked or complained. She acquiesced to all Lisa's demands without hesitation. It was all part of the fun, part of the thrill.

Presently Lisa took to dictating Jenn's attire – what to wear, what not to wear, and when. So Jenn wore, at Lisa's insistence, even out in public – especially out in public – tights with open or split gussets at the crotch under short skirts or baggy culottes. When she wasn't braless, she wore push-up half cups or peek-a-boo bras. Lisa explained, "I want you, not just to be ever accessible, but to feel ever accessible, as well." And, as if to constantly remind her of her openness, Lisa's hand, surreptitiously stroked between Jenn's legs, unexpectedly – any time, any place – invariably arousing her. It was a welcome invasion Jenn could never quite get used to. Although she came to expect, even anticipate Lisa's fingers burrowing suddenly up into her cleft at virtually any moment, Jenn was always surprised when the assault came. It always took her breath away.

But before Jenn got too used to Lisa's fingers, Lisa began inserting a small vibrator or electric Be-Wa balls into Jenn's cunt or sometimes up her bum, just before an excursion to the mall or the library. Reminiscent of incidents – experiences from early in their relationship – health balls in Chinatown and Mexican restaurants came to mind – Jenn still found this very public stimulation mortifying yet delicious. Lisa would activate whichever device she had implanted at whatever inopportune moment she chose, then just watch Jenn attempt to deal with her orgasm in whatever public place had been chosen.

Easing her hand up between Jenn's thighs, Lisa lightly twiddled Jenn’s clit, while they stood in the lingerie, ostensibly discussing underwear. Lisa skillfully moved Jenn’s arousal inexorably toward crisis. Removing her fingers slowly from beneath the short skirt as they approached the sales desk Lisa reached for the battery pack and controller, conveniently located in Jenn’s back pocket and nonchalantly activated the vibrating egg just as Jenn was about to be served. Stepping back in a detached sort of way, she watched, once again, Jenn wrestle with her self-control as intense waves of pleasure washed over her helpless companion. “So,” she demanded, later in the afternoon, “what did you think of that? And what about that poor young clerk.” Lisa took some perverse pleasure in talking about witnesses. “She thought you were having some sort of seizure. Did you see the look she gave you? Maybe one day you’ll have to explain what is happening – to them all.” With that she laughed, before adding with an intense seriousness, “Tell me – whatdid it really feel like?” Lisa always wanted Jenn to describe the sensation.

These were obviously lessons in humiliation. Jenn slowly understood that she was being taught to abandon her pride or her shame; nonetheless, she felt a kind of pride as she overcame each hurdle, every mortification Lisa arranged for her. In confronting her humility, surrendering her will, Jenn was discovering more abstract strengths within herself than she'd ever imagined existed. She uncovered monuments to her uniqueness, to her individuality – hidden in the back alleys and cul-de-sacs of her being – her id. To be submissive and compliant, Jenn realized, was a path to absolute self-awareness. And whether this was profound truth or rationalization, it was the reason Jenn continued to let herself be led passively who knew where.

Keeping up a relentless pressure of demands and expectations, Lisa seemed to be forever looking to for ways to keep Jenn off balance. It was with a strength of silent rebellion, that Jenn tried – and usually succeeded – to contain and control any surprise at or reaction to Lisa's suggestions. Her compliance was more the result of inner fortitude than weakening spirit. She complied nevertheless. At Lisa's insistence, Jenn submitted for periods of several days at a time over the course of a few weeks, to keeping her rectum plugged at all times, except, of course, when nature required relief. The procedure would make dildos, especially the double ender, easier to accommodate and more comfortable, Lisa told Jenn. Not that she had ever complained, Jenn thought to herself. Starting with a thin phallic shaped bung, she was re-threaded every couple of days until she, at last, held a six inch tree shaped cone affair that was four inches in diameter at the widest point and about an inch and a half at the shaft. In this way her anus was stretched making her ass much more accessible. The loosening would be permanent as long as she was frequently exercised there. Jenn never questioned why. She merely went along with Lisa's wishes; choosing, once more, to be an accomplice in her own corruption. She knew it, but so what? And she wondered, yet again, if there wasn't some deeper, darker meaning behind all this – some end, which she could not see. Unwilling – and, perhaps unable – to wait, she rushed towards her unknown destiny like an arrow.