Meeting Jenny

 Meeting Jenny
 by Toran

Part One – The Trip Over

I was wired.  The plane was cruising along, the subtle weave and bob of flight having almost a calming effect.  I was everything but calm.  The stewardess breezed past me and I distractedly wondered what her tight little ass would look like with angry red welts criss-crossing it.  I shook my head and went back to gazing out the window at the roof of clouds.

I was going to meet Her!  Jenny.  The girl that struggled playfully in my ropes every night in my dreams.  The girl who gave me that devil-may-care look as I imagined her into one tight confining position after another.  The girl whom I had been carrying on a long-distance relationship that was as hot as you could get without ever actually being in the same room at the same time – actually, we’d never even shared a continent.  But the mind is the first gift of submission and she had willingly given me hers.  And what a gift that was!

She was, without a doubt, a wit when it came to understanding helplessness – what it felt like and more importantly, what it meant.  I caught her wit first from her stories on the Net.  http://www.dajungle.com/selfbondage/jennystories.html was bookmarked on my PC and I’d read every one of her stories at least twice.   I complimented her by email after every reading and soon she started to remember me.  Suddenly I was talking to the girl behind the stories – the wit.  And that drew me in more.  She was intriguing.  She was funny.  Most of all, she got IT.  That was our bond.  That’s what put me on this plane.

I laughed to myself and the snorer in the seat next to me stirred.  Actually, it was my job that brought me to London.  I was the lead designer on one of the largest job start-ups my company had done.  Honestly, when I told her I was coming, I didn’t know if she would see me.  She laughed nervously over the phone and then said something that ran a chill down my spine and set things in motion where it counts.  She said, almost in a whisper, “You know, Toran, once we get started we’re not stopping.”  And after a pause in which I almost did a silent happy dance, I said, “Well, Jenny, if you should happen to take your clothes off and allow me to tie you up, you will have no say in whether it starts or stops.  I’ll deal with you as I please.”  There was a small noise on the other end of the phone, then deafening silence.  After that, in a slow, determined voice, she gave me the name of a hotel I should check in and the number she would be at when she came to meet me.

They were playing Evolution on the little fold down screen and I sank back in my seat and closed my eyes.  Would she would be as funny and imaginative in real life as she was on the Net?  I’d sent her a pic of me in a tux.  She sent back a torso shot of her beautiful breasts.  I didn’t even know what she looked like.  Would she moan when I wrapped her up in yards and yards of tape, would her lips gracefully accept the ballgag I had in my luggage, would she squirm and fight as the fatigue of being bound for hours on end ate into her muscles…It was a damn good thing my stiffy was hidden by the briefcase in my lap.

I landed at Heathrow and she wasn’t there.  I’d had visions of meeting this stunning girl with the short black hair, decked out in high heels, latex mini, black silk strapless top with matching leather coat, holding a “Toran” sign and flashing a sexy smile.  Instead, I was told to move to the right along the corridor to customs by a saggy tittied bitch who barely looked up at me. 

Customs was tense – me holding my breath that the gag and dildo and various leather straps I thought would be good to bring didn’t show up in the x-ray machine.  When asked what my business in England was, I had to repress the flash that I was here to rope me a Jenny and managed to explain my business and give contact phone numbers.  With my luggage wheeling behind me, I made my way to the phone banks.  Lucky for me it took my calling card…but she wasn’t at the number she gave.  No one was.  I put the receiver down after the twelfth ring.  It was like a rock smashing through my stomach.

Well, I thought, there is a time difference between here and the States, maybe she’s finishing up some errands and I’ll get in touch with her later.  The cabbie found the hotel, an beautiful sprawling Victorian-like across from Hyde Park.  Le Meridien at Grosvenor, it was.  Jenny said it was where she stayed when in London.  A warm feeling went through me as I went up the same stairs to the lobby that she’d been up in the past. 

Within a few hours after touch-down in London – Jenny’s London -  I was reclining on my hotel bed, again ringing up this girl who would soon be laying next to me, only able to move her eyes… Still no luck.   The phone rang and rang and rang.  After I grab a bite, I’ll try again, I thought.

The hotel restaurant, La Terrazza was crowded and I didn’t get my seat by the enormous windows overlooking Hyde Park.  I did thoroughly enjoy my meal – risotto and salmon with a few Martini’s to chase down the pasta.  It was getting on close to midnight now and I thought that phoning would be out of the question so I made my way back upstairs to my room – I was still 6 hours behind and not feeling the least bit tired.  I plugged in my PC, got a good connection and wrote a quick, “I’m here and you’re not” note to her by email.  Then settled back to read some more of her work.  Halfway through Holiday to Remember, I slipped the gag out and buckled it on.  Being a switch was a curse sometimes – finding a like minded partner who wasn’t completely into one side or the other was frustrating.  But it also gave me keen perceptions of what it was like to both feel and swing the whip.

I leaned back and closed my eyes wondering what she was doing right now…Was she gagged too?  Was her friend, Sue, poking and prodding her long slender nipples to the point of pain?  Was she wondering what I was doing?

I woke hours later, jaw aching from the ball, boner leaving my shorts a little slick.  I would try to reach her in the morning.  Oh yeah, and go to the job site.

Next morning and three unsuccessful attempts to get her on the phone and I had almost given up.  I was here, staying at her hotel, waiting to finally meet her and now it seemed like she had gotten cold feet.  I couldn’t blame her – I was an unknown, outwardly bent on making her helpless and as she so wonderfully coined the phrase, “Once a girl allows herself to be stripped of her clothes and bound, she ceases to be a human but a product to be dealt with”.  Maybe she was a little freaked.  I know that she, above all, knew the consequences of being made helpless in the presence of a horny male.  She told me one time that you could negotiate until you were blue in the face with your partner, but once he had you tied, you were pretty much his – as she so aptly puts it, “just property to be dealt with”, and that some guys would just do what they wanted anyways.

The two weeks went by slowly.  I stopped trying to call her.  I went through periods of extreme sadness that the thing I had hoped for for so long was going to be lost, to periods of anger that I was so close and couldn’t get the final step in.  To periods of self-doubt – had I scared her off that badly?  Her stories were about her taking that last, sometimes dangerous step through a threshold that was only one-way.  You could go in on your own, but you would need help getting back out.  It was the heady rush of blindly doing something that put you at another’s mercy combined with the desire to be that person’s object – to be fucked with, hurt for their pleasure and yours, even put on a frozen, helpless pedestal and worshipped to an extent.  Ultimately, she would have to take that first step through the threshold – she’d have to do the equivalent of crossing her hands behind her back as I dangled the ropes before her eyes – and that was my phone call she’d decided not to pick up.  Though I was disappointed, I admired her.  I vowed that when I talked to her online again, I would just relax and be her friend.  Hell, we still had our stories.

On the second to last day that I was in England, just as I was turning down the bed in my hotel room, the phone rang.  It was the font desk and they said that a large package had just arrived downstairs and would I come claim it?  Wondering if it were some of the missing ship-loose parts from the job, mistakenly sent here instead of the job-site, I threw on my robe and made my way downstairs.

Big box was an overstatement.  Measuring only a few feet square and on wheels, the heavy steel crate was stamped with a ‘Do not open’ sticker and padlocked.  The desk clerk had me sign for possession and also handed me a sealed envelope, which read “Confidential: Open in Private” on the outside.  I glanced around the crate, looking for the company logo and found the whole thing sparse of any marking, not even shipping labels from overseas.  Only an odd set of louvers on the sides.  Taking the strap in one hand, I wheeled the crate into the freight elevator.  Alone, at least for a few moments as the car rose to my floor, I leaned down and knocked a few times on the side and could have sworn that I heard a sight gasp from inside.

That’s odd, I thought.  It actually sounded like something alive was there. The car dinged at my floor and I wheeled the crate into my room.  Finally completely alone, I opened the envelope and two keys fell out and onto the floor.  Inside the envelope was a handwritten note. "Once a girl allows herself to be stripped of her clothes and bound..."  I looked from the crate to the note, to the two padlock keys on the floor.  A slow smile spread across my face.  Of course!  The louvers were air-holes…

With shaky hands I worked the two padlocks off and finally sat down on the floor next to the crate, fingers poised to unsnap the latches.  She was in there.  I knew she was.  All I had to do was open the crate...

Snap.  One latch off.  I paused at the other, then suddenly put my arms around the crate, embracing it, shaking it.  Sure.  There was the unmistakable sound of someone grunting, and very unladylike, I might add.  I popped the other latch and the panel swung open.

She was hot.  And almost wrapped like a pretzel.  The space in which she had been bound and stuffed into was very tight, indeed.  Her ankles, knees, thighs, waist, wrists, elbows shoulders - all parts of her lovely nakedness was wrapped in rope.  And beneath that, I say that she really wasn't completely naked - she was wrapped head to foot in skin colored med-wrap.   A bit of over-kill but I liked it.  I’d told her I was a rope fetishist and the world knew from her stories that she was a mummy fetishist – so this was a happy compromise.  A silk blindfold covered her eyes and a fat ballgag harness hugged her head so tightly that her cheeks puffed out cutely around the straps.  Her hair lay matted on her shoulders and scrunched between her thighs looked to be a rolled up newspaper wrapped with a plain sheet.  As I fished around to get the paper she stirred and I realized that she had been zoned out, in that near-sleep state you get when you don't know you're awake or not, whether the pain in your limbs is real or not, whether the outside world even exists beyond the dull throbbing of the ropes wrapping your body.  When I unfolded the paper I knew why - she had been stuffed in the crate for more than a few hours - the paper was from two days ago!  I read the words written on the sheet and sat back on the bed.  "Sue thought it horrible I didn’t contact you as soon as you arrived and for this I have now been delivered into your hands.  As you can see, I am nothing more than a product to be dealt with."  It was signed, "your Jenny".

A slow smile hit me as I looked at the bound female, so tightly tucked into a box that she couldn't even work her way out now that the panel was opened.  I knew that she was living out a fantasy right now.  And hers had turned into mine.  Oh, were we going to have fun....
 

Part Two – Mummy on a Bed

First of all, I have to impress upon you – this was reality.  As I lay next to the tightly wrapped and still blindfolded and gagged girl next to me on the hotel bed, gently massaging her cramped and fatigued muscles as best I could through the ropes and tape, I ticked off the wonderful things that Jenny had been subjected to in her stories.  I would certainly not be able, nor want to have her insides pumped and filled with a solidifying solution that would make her an eternal mummy, as had happened to her in Holiday to Remember.  I wouldn’t be injecting her with bone softeners so her transformation into Bonsai Girl In A Jar was more complete, ala The Jar.  Soaking her in resin was out, as in Trust Me I’m a Doctor – mostly because I wasn’t and it was illegal, too.  Entombing her in a concrete pyramid was also something I was sure the management at Le Meridien would frown upon.

I ran a finger down her taped and bound breasts and watched her start in surprise.  She was a good moaner, that was for sure.  I had held off releasing her from her blindfold and gag for a reason I couldn’t put my finger on completely.  I think the logic went something like: once I can talk to her and see her eyes, she may loose some of that ‘just a product to be dealt with’ aura and become the Jenny I had grown to love in a long-distance way.  I didn’t want that just yet.  I wanted my Jenny toy to be just that right now – a toy.  A product to be dealt with.  There would be more than enough time to see her as a wonderful girl.  But for right now…

I rolled her onto her belly.  She was still med-wrapped from neck to toe and those angry cruel ropes still tied her elbows and wrists to her sides, with ample support of her breasts in front, I may add.  Her thighs, knees, calves and ankles were similarly tightly roped.  Grinning, I swatted the rise of her ass just above her thighs.  She moaned-shrieked and squirmed as much as she could – hell, the wrap was still cushioning most of the blow.  She’d told me she’d never been spanked or whipped before – a condition I was bent on rectifying immediately.  Hey, she had her mummy thing going and I was going to get my sadistic thing going too.

I rubbed the wrapped ass a little and she stilled, the moan turning into a soft purr.  I swatted again, ten fast, firm times.  As she squirmed, trying to get away, I rolled her back over and saw the two nubs of her nipples straining against the wrap.  For someone who’d never had a good spanking before, she seemed to be taking it well.  I found both nubs and pinched hard.  She squealed and tried to bring her knees up to fend me off, but there was just too much wrapping her up for her to mount any type of resistance.   I chuckled and continued rolling her nipples between both fingers.  Then I rolled her completely over on her back and got up off the bed.

Man, she looked good!  You just can’t top having a bound and helpless female in your bed.  Little in life came close.  Tearing my eyes away, I went to my travel bag and pulled out some scissors – the kind with the dull tips.  She was laying pretty much motionless when I slid down next to her.  Working the layers of wrap away by pulling and snipping – Sue, I didn’t know you from Adam, but you’d tied our girl here pretty thoroughly – I finally exposed first one nipple, then the other.  Jenny reacted with a hiss through her nostrils as the cool air hit flesh that had been covered for days.  I swung a leg up and over her so now I could lay atop her.  The feeling of her beneath me got my dick rock hard and it was a damn good thing her puss was covered and guarded by tightly tied thighs.

Slowly, teasingly, I lowered my mouth to one of the long, engorged nipples and suckled it.  Alternating between little bites and hard sucking, I soon had her bucking beneath me.  Her nip was a cherry red when I finally switched to the other.  I think she orgasmed at least once at some point – I couldn’t tell for sure I was so intent on tormenting those wonderful little nubs.

Well, her orgasm would have to be countered.  I got up and went to the little leather bag that kept my toys.  She arched her back and screamed into the gag as I clamped first one nipple then the other with the tightest, spring-tensioned clamps I had.  When the noise she was making deep in her throat subsided a little, I tightened the springs a little more.  Her reaction was music to my ears.

It was time for a little mental gymnastics.  I crawled up and lay next to her head.  Brushing away a strand of dark hair and tucking it behind her ear, I leaned in and ran my tongue around the fleshy lobe, my free hand sneaking down to idly twist the clamp on her near nipple.  I licked one last time, then bit the flesh, hard, and twisted the clamp cruelly.  Her head thrashed from side to side, a high-pitched whine coming from behind the gag and I steadied it by firmly holding her chin.

“Shhh, Jenny,”  I whispered in her ear –the first time I’d spoken to her.  She stilled at my voice and then I could tell she relaxed.  For a brief instant I wondered if she was sure it was me all along.  Maybe, at some point she had feared that Sue had rendered her into a sort of slave-of-the-month club offering and sent her off to a total stranger.  I chastised myself mentally at the opportunity lost – what fun it would have been for Jenny to think a stranger was doing all this to her!  Oh well, I filed the idea for possible future use.

I leaned in again, smelling the musky odor of a girl who had been stuffed in a crate for two days in a state of sexual fantasy – and the smell wasn’t all that bad, believe me.  Must have been pheromones or whatever.  “I’m so glad you could finally join me, girl,” I whispered in her ear.  I could see that she was trying to push the ball out of her mouth but the tight straps were having none of that.  I grinned.  “No, no dear.  The gag stays, for now.  You’re still a product and I’ve got a little more dealing to do…” I punctuated the last with another twist to her nipple clamp.

It’s all about reactions, at least for a Dom.  Watching her body react, first to the confinement, then to the teasing and tormenting inflicted by my hands.  The breath catching in her chest, the moans and squeals from her gagged lips, the little movements of her muscles trying to flee the sensations…I had told her once that I was a combination of sadist and romantic and she’d said that was a great combination – that I could hurt her then hold her afterwards.  I saw another benefit…I saw her as part nerve endings to torture and part art to cherish.  And I wasn’t willing to unwrap this particular piece of art just yet.

I nibbled her ear a little more, making sure that there were a few harsh bites in the mix, then slipped off the bed and hopped in the shower.  It was a cold one, to be sure.  I didn’t want to just play a little then screw her brains out.  This would be a long night for us both.
 

Part Three – Jenny Comes Clean

I debated with taking the blindfold off again – I’d had her in my evil clutches for a few hours now and she’d been like this, ballgagged and blindfolded and wrapped for two days.  I was more than a little curious to see what Jenny really looked like.  But in the end, I thought better of it.  She was still a product, at least for a little while longer.

I got to work with the blunt scissors again, slicing the med-wrap off her body starting with her feet.  I couldn’t help myself with a little gratuitous tickling which brought a few frustrated giggles from behind Jenny’s gag.  I was careful to keep the rope on her, cutting around the coils and pulling the wrap through.  I didn’t want her to feel any chance of freedom was coming just yet.  Besides, the night was still young.

A pleasant surprise greeted me when I got to her pubic area – she was completely shaved!  I had absently wondered if I would pull the tape off her pubic hairs for maximum pain or gradually pull the tape off for maximum torment.  In the end, it was soft smooth skin, a little pink and irritated from the tape, of course, that graced her lovely pelvic area.  A shaved puss is definitely a work of art.  I snaked a finger down and parted her pussy lips, sliding a finger deep inside – it went in easily as my Jenny was sopping wet.  I smiled, pulling the finger out and popping it in my mouth.  Unless I ran out of time, I’d be getting more of that taste later…

Up and around her breasts I went, releasing the rest of her boobs from the tape that flattened her nips earlier.  Of course, once exposed, those nips had gotten the treatment, as the rest of Jenny’s body would soon get.  Her arms were a pain in the ass, as Sue had thoughtfully wrapped her fingers and reinforced the wrist wraps – apparently she thought Jenny would be struggling against the ropes and chafing wasn’t allowed.

Finally I was done.  A pile of mangled med-wrap lay at the side of the bed and a naked, lovely Jenny, still quite securely bound in rope lay next to it. I slipped off the bed and thought I heard an impatient grunt from behind me, but when I looked back Jenny was just slowly testing her helplessness.  I could imagine the relief at getting that crap off my body after so long.  We’ll get you cleaned up and feeling better, girl, I thought.

I came back to the bed with my prized leather straps.  No thicker than a boot’s shoelaces, these came in many various lengths and made the best material for what I had planned.  Starting with her feet, I untied her ankles and tossed the rope aside.  Looping a coil of the leather strap around the ball of her foot, I began tying her legs together in a spider-web pattern up to her bound knees.  Little more than a few inches of her flesh was exposed without a strap crossing over it.  It had the appearance of Japanese bondage, but with the twist of the thin straps, I was able to create what I thought was a more intense bit of art.

Up her body, I methodically webbed Jenny – first getting rid of the rope and replacing it with the leather strap web.  Her elbows were brought together behind her back and the web looped tightly around her torso, pinning her arms behind her.  Her breasts, my favorite part of the web tie, were framed in the leather straps, subtly pushing them out and up while firming the flesh into tight orbs.

And then I was done.  The effect was stunning.  My black haired girl looked like a giant spider had captured her and was making ready to devour her parceled flesh.  I ran a hand up her body, feeling her muscles react to my touch with little twitches – she could move little else.  I let my hand come to rest on one of her breasts and idly worked her wonderfully long nipples into hardness.

“You’re my little bug tonight, Jenny,” I whispered in her ear and I could see her shudder.  I went to the other nip and played with that.  “I’m going to clean you up, stretch you out in my web,” my other hand snaked down to the soft smoothness of her pussy lips, “and then I’m going to play with you.”  The hand probing her pussy lips found her clit and pinched lightly, while the other hand squeezed the nipple, pulling it away from her breast.

“First, I want to see your face and hear your voice.  But remember,” I pinched the little button of her clit as hard as I could and similarly crushed her nip between my fingers, “you are still a product to be dealt with – no special deals here.”

I started with her ballgag.  Swinging over so I straddled her torso, my knees supporting my weight, I lifted her head and undid the buckle at the nape of her neck.  The red ball, not one of the bigger ones, but size was definitely a variable when it was worn for this long, made a cute little popping sound as it was worked free of her mouth.  She moaned and even whined a little as she worked her jaw – she was able to bring her lips together for the first time in many hours.  Her tongue darted in and out, re-moistening lips that had been neglected.

I leaned close and kissed her for the first time.  She moaned from behind my lips and returned the kiss, arching her back as I pulled away.  I knew that were the kiss to go on much longer I’d be needing another cold shower.  I was a sucker for kisses and Jenny was a great kisser!

She cleared her throat.  “That was nice.”  It was almost a whisper, more of a croak.  I reached over and got the glass of ice water I’d placed there.  Lifting her by the back of her neck, I let her have a few sips of the water.  She would have drained the whole glass if I hadn’t stopped her.  I had some idea that the human body would become perilously dehydrated, especially if it were given an enema first, which I was sure Jenny had been given.  But the stomach can cramp - I only wanted her to have a little water now, maybe more later.  I lay her back, placing the water back on the nightstand.  Then I allowed myself one more quick kiss – damn, she was good.  She sucked at my lips almost greedily and I wondered if her body was clipping along at a fever pitch.  After all, she’d been living one of her fantasies for some time now and finally someone was fucking with her.

Pulling away, I slid the silk blindfold off her head.  She groaned and squinted her eyes against what must have been blinding light.  While her eyes adjusted, I busied myself by playing with her nipples, coaxing them into rigidity again.  I glanced up and my heart missed a beat.  She was looking at me, full in the face, beautiful brown eyes squinted, lips forming a contented smile.

“Hey there,”  I said, sliding up next to her.  She moved forward and I let her kiss me briefly, then gently pushed her away.

She pouted a little and sighed.  “Sue tricked me, you know.”  I loved hearing her talk, that accent always fluttered my stomach.  Growing up I’d always fantasized about being with an English woman – thought for years that I should move over here just so I could meet my future wife.  But things change and two nasty divorces later I was burned out on marriage.  Serious sexual flings like the one I enjoyed with Jenny were more my style.  Still…

I ran a finger over her lips and she playfully nipped at them, so I tweeked her nose.  “I’m not sure what the rules are for products talking.”

She laughed nervously.  “Oh, they can, of course, so long as nothing is stopping them.”  She eyed the ballgag as I brought it close to her mouth.

It was my turn to laugh as I tossed the gag back onto the bed.  “You can talk for now, Jenny.”  I stared into her eyes.  “But at my choosing.”  Her eyes widened a little – that was good.  I was going to cause her a bit more discomfort.  But I had a pretty good idea she’d be enjoying it.  Most of it anyways.

“So what’s this about Sue tricking you?”

She tried to shrug and nervously laughed again.  “Sue wouldn’t let me ring you for the longest time.  She locked me in the cellar – we have a room down there where we play and she locked me up while you were here the first week.”

My hand strayed back to a breast.  I would never get enough of a good bound breast.  Just the feel of the taught flesh and the challenge of getting the nip to rise was always enjoyable.  “So you’re saying that Sue, humble, meek Sue, if I remember correctly from our phone calls – Sue kept you prisoner while I was trying to contact you?  Then why did she lock you in a crate for two days then send you to me at the last minute?”

Jenny frowned, obviously distracted from telling her story by my hands massaging her boobs.  “I wasn’t locked in that bugger for two days!  More like five or six hours.”  She smiled and looked at me full in the face.  “Not that I wouldn’t like to give it a go sometime.  Anyways, she’s playing with your mind.  She wanted you to be angry at first and do nasty things to me – which, I might add, you’ve done.”

I squeezed her nip harshly, loving her squirming reaction and gasp.  “So, I’m to believe that the only thing keeping you from meeting me as planned almost two weeks ago, was Sue.”

She nodded and I squeezed again.  “Too bad,” I said, getting up off the bed.  “Too bad for you and too bad for Sue.”  I looked down at her, lovely bug caught in my web.  “Sue will get hers, I can assure you.  Meanwhile, you need some cleaning.”

Jenny flushed and I knew I’d hit a spot.  So I continued.  “In the States, we would call you ‘funky smelling’”.

“Well, maybe someday you’ll find yourself tucked into a crate for two days, Mr. Toran.”  She knew she’d made a mistake as soon as the words left her mouth, but I played it up a bit.

“And who would do that, Miss Product?  Hmmmm?”  I took a step towards her bound form.

She glanced away, then back.  She was quite fetching when flustered.

I grinned my most evil grin and walked into the bathroom to ready it for the next phase of Jenny’s torment.  Turning on the cold water tap in the tub, I glanced at my watch – it was 2:30 in the morning.  On the last day of my time in London.  I wondered if I would be coming back soon.  If Sue were in the room with me now it would be a safe assumption that her ass would be turning a cherry red from my crop.  She had robbed me of almost two weeks with Jenny.  And there was nothing I could do about it now.  Nothing except…The thought flew across my mind, then was gone.

When the cold water had filled roughly six inches of the tub, I turned the spigot off.  I had to make the best of my few remaining hours with Jenny.  That was all I could do.

She had hardly moved a muscle when I went to get her.  She still wouldn’t make eye-contact as I scooped her up in my arms and carried her into the bathroom.  “What are you doing,” she asked when she saw the barely filled tub.  Then she was looking at me, possibly trying to figure out what devious thoughts I had in my head.  Hell, girl, even I didn’t know one devious thought from the next.

She found out exactly what I was doing when I plopped her into the water, feet first.  She screeched and tried to hop out, but I held her firmly.  She was now standing in six inches of the coldest water I could coax out of London’s water system.  And not liking it in the least.  “Oh, oh, oh, get me out of here!”

I leaned forward and caught a nip between my fingers and squeezed for all I was worth.  She stilled immediately and I held her chin with my other hand, forcing her to look at me.  “Hold still and I’ll warm it up a bit.  But only if you ask.  And ask nicely.  I think the words ‘beg nicely’ would be even more appropriate.”

She glared at me, her teeth starting to chatter.  “Fine then,” I said and turned on the overhead shower head, taking care to be certain it was from the cold water tap.  Her scream as the fountain of frigid water hit her body from everywhere should have woke the neighbors and I clamped a hand over her mouth.

“The only sound I want to hear from you is some serious begging, Jenny,” I hissed.  She had her eyes closed and was shaking all over as I lifted my hand away.

“PPPPlease, Sir TTTTToran,  ppppplease ttttttturn on the hhhhhhot wwatwater.”

I was getting a little of the spray and damn it was cold – I could imagine what she was feeling.  Her skin felt clammy to my touch and her nips were straining in their flesh web.  She started whimpering from beneath her plastered black bangs and I let her go for a few moments longer before turning the spigot to warm.

She still stood in cold water, but now that her body was being treated to hot water from the shower head, she was caught smack dab between comfort and discomfort – it was a nice, confusing state that I wanted her in.  Plus, I wanted the tub to eventually be close to body temperature when I got to the business of cleaning her.

She was still squirming, obviously at war with her body as to whether she should be enjoying this or not.  She still shook from the cold but her body was starting to turn a healthy pink from the hot.  I reached in and found her pussy lips with my hand and slid  two fingers inside.  She moaned as I began to slowly fuck her with my fingers, my thumb every now and then brushing her clit.  I worked her until I was sure she was ready to come, then stopped.  Her eyes flew open and she groaned, but she kept silent.  The water was about where I wanted it anyways.

I turned off the water and treated myself to one more kiss – her wet lips and cheeks felt great and I lingered longer than I should have because she stiffened and moaned into my mouth as the first wave of an orgasm hit.  I reached down and pinched her nips – they were sure getting a work out tonight!  She rode the wave then moaned in pain as I continued crushing her nips in my fingers.

Finally, reaching around to support her weight, I lowered her into the water.  She stared into my eyes and I could sense the trust there – she was a tightly tied parcel of female and I was lowering her into water – she had to trust me.

With her completely laying back, her chin was a good foot above the surface of the tepid water.  Apparently, there wasn’t enough hot water to change the initial frigid layer into a more comfortable temperature.  That was ok with me.  The point was to get those leather straps soaked.  As they dried, later, they would slowly but steadily contract, pulling her already tightly webbed flesh into an even tighter form.  But she didn’t know that.  For now, I was going to get to know her a little more.

I went and got the bottle of wine I’d kept in the ice chiller – before she’d been delivered to me earlier, I’d planned to drain the thing in my sorrow, fully expecting to be sick on my flight out in the next day.  I also scooped up a few of the souvenir candles I bought at Piccalilli Square.  These I lit and placed around the tub as she watched with doe-eyes, obviously wondering what I had planned for her.  I poured a glass of wine and brought it to her lips and again she drank deeply.  She closed her eyes when she drank and I was struck at how beautiful she looked with her hair wet, meekly drinking from my glass.

Not wanting her to get drunk from the wine and lack of food – I wasn’t a horrible host, I would be feeding her soon, of course – I pulled the glass away.  The next hour or so, we talked as I gently cleaned her.  Not Master and slave talk, but Toran and Jenny talk.  If we had gone out to dinner the first night I was here, this is the conversation we would have had.  She told me of her childhood, growing up in …well, I know that she wouldn’t want her personal details revealed here so, suffice to say, I learned about her and she learned about me.  She was a complex, interesting woman, to say the least.

So we talked as I scrubbed her clean, relishing every second of having free reign over her body.  Of course, being the sadist, I took the opportunity now and then to dribble the hot wax from the candles over her boobs, at least the part that was still above water.  She had the choice of accepting the wax and the pain or trying to slide her boobs under the water, but being tied the way she was, she obviously thought that was a dangerous move.  So she took the layer of wax on the top of her boobs with only a minimal of complaining.

With my watch showing a quarter to four, I kissed her again, allowing my tongue to go where it wished, then helped her out of the tub.  I dried her off, paying special attention to getting the hardened wax off.  The straps were saturated nicely and she hadn’t a clue.  I chuckled to myself as I carried her out and lay her on the bed.

Room service was supposedly still open, even at this hour – and the thought of watching the reaction of a bus boy as he caught a glimpse of Jenny on the bed was a golden one.  But I grabbed my keycard, threw on my jeans and a T-shirt and left her there.  She’d asked if I was going to just leave her like this then glared at me when I told her she was a product again and would she like to wear the ballgag?

My trip to the first floor confectionery machines must have seemed like forever to her, because when I returned, heaps of candy bars and juice cartons in my arms, the first thing she complained about was that the straps were getting uncomfortable.

“I know,”  I said, plopping the impromptu feast on the bed next to her.  “They’re supposed to, dear.” 

She started to say something and by the look on her face I knew it would not be nice so I picked up the ballgag and a candy bar.  “Your choice,” I grinned.

And that’s how I fed her.  She ate a few candy bars, some crackers, a few cartons of apple juice, the whole while squirming at the drying, tightening straps that covered every inch of her body.  And when we were done, around five in the morning, she finally got the gag again.  As I pulled down the covers to catch a few hours of sleep before going back out to the job site, she took the opportunity to remind me that she’d been tied for days and still hadn’t been able to use the ‘loo’.  Gag goes in, girl gets quiet.  As I turned out the light, I told her there better not be a wet bed on her side.

10/04/02

story continues in Meeting Jenny

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