HER FIRST CLIT RING

Jenny is terribly afraid. Her control freak of a boyfriend, John, wants her to get a clitoris ring. She wants to please him, and yet she is afraid of the actual piercing and its ramifications. How will she go through this, especially as he wants to film the procedure?

This is an intensely psychological journey of sexual awakening at 6800 words.


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The room possesses a reclining chair with a pair of stirrups – not unlike what you get at a gynecologist’s clinic. There’s also a flat examination bed made from black leather and several comfortable looking chairs.

“I’ll have to examine you first to determine what kind of piercing you can take,” Chad explains. “But first, you may want to wash yourself.”

He gestures to an attached bathroom.

John puts his sling bag down. He carefully removes a video camcorder from it.

“I’m going to be recording every moment of this,” he declares.
Jenny hugs her chest, feeling cold. Chad makes no move to exit the room.

John sets his camcorder up. He depresses a few buttons and a blinking red light comes on. He trains the aperture at Jenny.

“Okay. This is a historic moment called ‘Jenny gets her first clit ring’. Take off your clothes, Jenny.”

She’s suddenly feeling self-conscious. “You mean, with – ” She surreptitiously glances at Chad.

Chad waves his hand. “No worries, I’ll leave the room until you’re ready for me.”

“No. Stay. Sweetheart, Chad’s gonna be doing the procedure anyway. He’s going to see you totally naked. So let’s not make a big deal out of this, OK?”

Here it comes, she thinks. The domineering part that takes over his personality completely.

“OK,” she says in a small voice.

She starts to unzip her dress from the side, very aware that the camcorder lens is upon her. The dress falls off her slim shoulders. She has alabaster skin – delicate and almost transparent with tiny blue veins. It’s fairy skin; the skin of princesses and milk baths. She’s not wearing a brassiere, and so her firm breasts are revealed immediately. Her nipples and areolas are red and inviting.

She lets the dress pool at her ankles. She’s wearing a pair of lacy black panties – sheer and strategically see-through in some places. She steps out of her dress and totters in her high silver heels.

“Look at those tits,” John murmurs. He moves closer, dipping the camcorder to the level of her chest. “What do you think, Chad? Good for a nipple ring later?”

Jenny shivers. She tries to cross her arms around her chest, but John bats her hands impatiently away.

“Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart.”

“I don’t know,” Chad drawls. He has a languorous air about him, as though his presence is an effortless draping cloud. “I’ll have to examine her.”

“Be my guest. Put your hands behind your back, Jenny.”