This is an intensely psychological journey of sexual awakening at 7000 words.
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."
Jenny wants to keep John as her boyfriend, and yet she is terrified of what he will make her do.
This intensely psychological 9000-word unusual romance will keep your mind churning at nights.
As a waitress comes over to pour coffee, John still has his hand on her thigh. He has inched his way upward so that his fingers rest on the silky skin upon her inner thigh, and he's stroking it purposefully, daringly.
"Refills, everyone?" the waitress says. She's one of those perky raven-haired types that dominate the Young Christians' Society, or something or other.
"Sure," John flashes his lady-killer smile.
She responds by batting her long eyelashes flirtatiously. John has that effect on women, as he's wont to remind Jenny over and over again. Only this time, his fingers creep up to her naked pussy and snare the ring in her clit in a pincer grip.
Jenny gasps. The waitress takes note of her flushed face as she fills her coffee mug. John twists the ring, resulting in her clit exploding in sudden sensory overload. It's all she can do to strangle the cry that threatens to escape her throat.
Billy watches all this with an amused curl of his right lip. It's almost like a snarl. He knows what John is doing all right.
"Don't worry, sugar, I'm not gonna steal him from ya," the waitress says. "Though he's a right dreamboat, so you'd better be holding on to him hard and fast."
"You've got that right," John says, never taking his gaze off the waitress's smiling face.
One of his fingers slips into her lower ring and attempts to thread itself through it. It's a maneuver that requires a fair amount of handling, so his hand activity under her skirt is blatant and obvious. The waitress glances down, as he clearly wants her to, and spills the coffee over the rim of the mug she's pouring it into.
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"It's OK," John says.
They lock eyes again, and the undertones are unmistakable. Hers are saying 'I think you're sex on legs', and his are saying 'This is what I can do to women . . . including you. See what I'm doing to my girlfriend?'
As for Billy, he's leaning against the seat, putting his hands to the back of his head and enjoying the display. Jenny doesn't know what to make out of all this - except that John is putting his stamp of authority over her again. I can make you squirm in public, and there's nothing you can do about it.
As the waitress leaves with a lingering look of desire on John's face, Billy chortles. "You're my role model, man."
John laughs. "That gets them every time. So you want to do this?"
"Get a front row seat." John's fingers dive into the furrows around her clit - the secret, moist ones that send electric thrills coursing all over her loins.
Jenny is terrified, especially when John does something to drive her to the brink. Will this be the moment she breaks?
This is a psychological 9,000-word romance involving intensely damaged minds.
John approaches her. His face is slightly flushed and his breathing is labored. She recognizes the telltale signs of lust on his face - the flaring nostrils, the dilated pupils within his startling green irises. She shoots a concerned glance at the window. They are all extremely exposed.
Billy plops himself onto a well-worn armchair. She reckons that is his favorite armchair, from the faded seat upon which he probably grinds his backside in every day. He has the look of curious languor on his intense features, as if he's about to witness something interesting.
"Take off your clothes, Jenny," John says.
He reaches out and pulls one of her hair strands.
"You mean right here?" she says, glancing at the darkening window again.
"No. Not here." He gestures at the window. "There."
"Y-you want me to strip naked . . . over there?" The thought is alarming. How many people are in their apartments with similar windows, peering out? How much can they see?
It occurs to her that as the sky darkens and night blankets the hemisphere, the apartment dwellers outside would be able to see more and more of whatever they are revealing in here.
"What part of 'there' didn't you understand?" he growls. "Do it, Jenny. Do it because you love me."
She loves him - that much is true. But now he's asking her to go on to a whole new level.
"The more you expose yourself to total strangers," he says, his voice hoarse, "the more you get desensitized to it."
Her feet are rooted to the spot, as is her tongue. She barely has enough time to figure anything out when he grabs her arm and shepherds her firmly to the window.
Jenny wants so hard to please him and to make him love her as much as she loves him. But is he going too far this time?
This is an intensely psychological 9,000-word story of a woman's addictive dependence on her boyfriend.
He glances down at her bare pussy.
"You wet down there?" he whispers.
She's so apprehensive about the whole thing that she is bone dry. He runs his finger down her pierced clit and pulls at the bauble on its ring. It is an extra large bauble - the largest she has worn on her clit ring thus far. It is made from amethyst, and it is the size of a robin's egg. It weighs her clit down heavily, and that is the reason why she had been sitting on the bed - to rest her poor, anchored hood.
"Ready?" he says.
He senses her anxiety, and kisses her lightly on the lips.
"You look beautiful, and I mean it," he whispers. "Now let's get the show on the road."
He picks up the chain from the dresser. It is partly the reason why she doesn't want to be in the light. She doesn't want to look at that chain of subjugation.
"Come here, Jenny."