October 14, 2010

Chapter 1: Prologue: Setting the Scene

Posted in Uncategorized at 4:02 am by littlesubmissions

Stained glass saints watched impassively as her fingers slammed into her cunt before they were even out of the parking lot. The elastic band of her skirt pulled her wrist tight against her stomach as her fingertips pushed down between her panties and over short cropped hair, rubbing her clit, twisting and pulling skin, crushing the flesh between her fingertips and pulling, straining, twisting nerve endings around and around, back and forth. He swallowed hard and watched her from the driver’s seat, thick black coat across her lap hiding her hand. There was just the vague shape of her arm moving under the black cloth and her gasping lips, eyes clamped tightly closed and hips thrusting and twitching. She hammered her fingertips into her body until she finally slumped down in the seat and shuddered, breathing hard and looked over at him between half closed eyes.

He licked his lips and glanced at traffic, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Tried to keep his eyes on the road while watching her chest heave beneath her blouse with deep, ragged breaths. Tore his eyes away to scan for other drivers watching her carnal display. Watched her hand stop then looked up at her lazy, contented smile. “What the fuck was that about?”

“Ooooh…” Thoughts of him spending the next week on his knees suffering, wondering, doubting, trying to make the best of the bad situation she was putting him in washed over her, pushed her further into a warm, post-orgasmic bliss. She stretched her legs and leaned over to adjust the seat, pushing it back as she snuggled into the corner it made with the door. “Didn’t you like that scene? I thought it was delicious.”

One side of his face twitched, thinking of the raw, sensual pain of suffering for her and trying to reconcile it with the morning in church. “Let’s see: scratchy clothes, boring sermon, kids texting on cell phones, and women with too much perfume?” His shoulders rose up then down in a hesitant shrug, and he sighed a smirk at her. “I’m sorry, but my religious fetish doesn’t quite go that far.”

She savored his ignorance, teased herself, made herself wait to tell him, let her appetite build. Her tongue slipped across her lips and one hand reached back under her skirt, softly stroking her pussy, pushing gently over her wet lips. Her other hand reached down her blouse, fished a thin silver chain out from between her breasts. Her breathing got faster, and the links of the chain danced as her fingers twitched in anticipation. “What’s wrong with this picture, boy?”

His eyes widened and he jerked his head to check the traffic, then looked back at her and frowned an accusation. “There’s no key on your necklace ma’am.” Sudden hot desire and cold fear washed over him, an irrational panic and simultaneous thrill at the idea of the chastity belt locked around his cock being on forever, a keyless chunk of plastic keeping him from ever having an orgasm again. He pushed himself back down to reality, reminded himself of the spare key, tried to force the fear and lust down while his cock started to swell, pushing tight against the curved plastic it was surrounded by. “What happened to the key?”

Her mouth twisted up into a toothy, sadistic grin and she leaned over to tap between his legs. Her fingertip bounced on the plexiglass under his trousers while she imagined running him through his paces, getting off on his pain, suffering, and humiliation. “While everyone was praying I taped it to the bottom of the pew. There’s still the emergency key at home, but unless there’s an emergency, that’s my key… And I might let you out so I can use your cock, but there’s not going to be any orgasms for you involved. So even if I’m being a total whore, walking around naked, masturbating, shoving my tits in your face, putting on those boots you like so much, fucking myself silly and using every part of your body including your cock to get me off… Your dick goes back into the belt when I’m done with it, and if you want to get off, you can go get your own damned key.” She watched his shoulders tense, felt hot and feral lust rolling over her in waves. Her eyes met his, flat and cold, daring him to challenge her.

He looked away and shuddered at every word as she bit it off, pulling his chest forward tight against the steering wheel and crushing the hard plastic in his hands. Imagined the same scene “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He chanted the words like a desperate mantra, he prayed, tried to think of the eventual relief and not the time suffering. The rational part of his mind started to slip away, wrapped up in chains made of perverse desire, kicked off a pier into deep, silent waters where something deeper, more primitive, waited. Where cold reptile desires waited to wrap pain and humiliation around it and smother it in hard coils.

“Hey,” her finger flicked off his earlobe hard, again and again until he slumped back in his seat, exhaling hard. She smiled over at him, and winked. “No getting fuzzy while you’re driving.” Inside she purred, a slower but hotter passion than when she was jerking off earlier. The hot, sweaty feeling of owning him came over her. She knew he would go along with it. She had pushed a little, taken things a little further, moved the line of what was rational a few inches further away, and he had agreed to it. She had pulled one option for escape off the table, and he had joined her, became an accomplice.

He crashed back to reality, started thinking things through. “How am I going to get the key back?” He licked his lips, blinked his eyes and breathed hard through the tightening muscles in his jaws. The reality of the games they played in the dark set in, and he started to think about how to keep up vanilla appearances. Sometimes he wondered if the secret made it that much hotter, made it feel more illicit than it really was. Would anyone really care? Did part of him just kink on the people around him not knowing what he did at night? Of the boxes in the closet with rope and chains, floggers and gags. “I’ll have to wait until next week.”

She shrugged. “I don’t care. You could go get it now if you want, but someone might wonder why you came back. They might even ask, so I’d have a reason ready if I were you. And lying to a priest so you can jerk off… well, actually, that might be better than telling the truth.” She kicked her shoes off and lifted her legs, curling her toes under the warm air from the heater and wiggling them. “You know, that you’re a horny slut whose girlfriend keeps his cock in a cage so you’re sneaking into church so you can get a key and jerk yourself off. Laugh when you say it, maybe they’ll think you’re joking. Or you can wait until next week and try to put up with me for the next seven days, because this is already making me horny as fuck. And the longer you wait, the more likely that key will fall off or someone will find it and throw it away. Then you’re really fucked.” She smirked, let him think about it for a second. Let him try to decide which choice was less horrible. Let him try to pick the lesser evil, knowing the deck was stacked and she could make either course worse than the other if she wanted. Her tongue slid across her lips. “Because I’ll let you get off when you bring me that key, and not before.” She laughed and rubbed an imaginary mustache, a parody of cartoon super-villainy.

He could feel his throat tightening at the thought of being completely at her mercy for seven days. Or longer. Knew he’d sink further the longer he was locked in his chastity, become more willing to suffer for the promise of an orgasm dangled in front of him, even if he knew she wasn’t going to allow him one. Wondered if she would be pissed if he got the key right away. No, she was fine with a struggle, seemed to enjoy it more actually. Anyone could top a doormat, and they both enjoyed the game, seeing how far ahead the other had planned. Seeing how much they had prepared. He slid across the lane and into a strip mall parking lot, the driver behind him honking and slowing down. “I’ll tell them I lost my cellphone if they ask.”

She laughed, enjoying his flustered blustering as he turned and pulled up to the exit, remembered to signal this time. “Good idea, maybe they’ll even help you look. If they do, you make sure and tell me how it feels to be so close to that key, standing right there, and not be able to get it. Oooh!” She bounced up and down and clapped her hands in mock excitement. “Maybe you could pretend to check under the pew and grab the key to your cock when you stand up. Maybe they won’t notice.” She grinned. “Or maybe they will. I was nice and used good tape so it probably wouldn’t fall off, but that would make it hard to get off quickly as well, wouldn’t it?” Her face got hard as she licked her lips. “It’d be worth you getting it just on the chance you were down on your knees, looking under the pew, and you could actually run your fingertips across it but couldn’t work the tape loose before you thought someone might notice what you were doing, and you stood up without it. To actually feel it right there, and have to walk out into a week of the things I’ve thought up… I’m soaking my panties thinking about it now, but watching you walk over there, trying to figure out exactly where I was sitting, wondering if you’ll see that key but it will be just a little too far away for you to reach…” She inhaled and smiled at him, licked her lips and watched his shoulders to see which way he was going to go. Reveled in the cold feeling of a predator who has let its doomed prey see it after a long stalk.

He thought about all the scenarios she had laid out, knew she was trying to scare him into the irrational choice. Bu there was the lingering thought, would he panic and chose to make sure his dirty secrets stayed secret if he thought they might figure out what he was really doing? Would they know he was lying, but not know why? What sort of rumors would be going around next week? Would they guess? How long would he obsess over their conversations, searching for the double entendre, wonder if they knew? His breath got harder, condensing against the window and fogging it over as a car pulled up behind them. “Shit. Next Sunday you drive while I jerk off, ok?” He sighed a resigned grin at her and flicked the turn signal back the other direction.

Laughter broke around her fingers as she sucked them lewdly. “Fuck that. You sitting there with that key in your hand the whole time, holding it, praying while all you can think about is unlocking yourself and playing with your cock? I’m going to have a hard time waiting until we get to the car. And if I drive, I decide when we leave, and we’re sure as hell not going to get there early.” Her eyes half closed, and she let her mind wander to the days and nights that would lead them back to this point next week. Absentmindedly her hand wandered over to pet his hair, stroking softly.

His head leaned into her hand as she kneaded his hair. He settled into a warm comfort with her, the cold outside the car blocked off, the slow plod of traffic a steady march they were on together, in no hurry to get anywhere but where they were. It was warm and comfortable, easier to ask her than think. “Why would we want to get there early?”

She chuckled and turned down the heater, primly rearranging her skirt and coat. “Well, you might want to make sure we sit in the same place…”

Shoulders slumped and he smiled at her after a drawn out, shuddering breath. “Yeah, I’ll drive ma’am.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.


  1. Adric gerard said,

    Good. Better if its the only key. Best if the key is actually somewhere else.

    • littlesubmissions said,

      Hm, my initial reaction was I try to make things realistic, but now I’m also thinking porn is, to a certain extent, about fantasy. I might be able to slide things further towards fantasy without totally sacrificing realism. Food for thought anyway, thanks.

  2. Mike said,

    Thank you ! WB Anxiously waiting for more.

    • littlesubmissions said,

      You’re welcome! More is here. Or there. Upwards!

  3. Lorelie said,

    Exactly what level of “drunk angry stranger” (or whatever you called it before) feedback did you want?

    Because is this prologue hot? Hell yeah.

    Could I still red pen the hell out of it? Yeah, that too.

    Coz, um, I actually am a genre author. *g*

    • littlesubmissions said,

      Hey, good on you for writing genre stuff! Would it be prying to ask which genre?

      I am fine with people being as drunk and angry as they want to be, my ego is large and will survive. I would rather be good than coddled. No one ever got better hearing “Yep, this is good” all the time.

      Having said that, this isn’t actually the genre story, just extended porn, and is basically a first draft. I don’t expect people to worry about spelling and grammar, I can go through and correct those when it’s done (but if someone wants to, hey, I’ll take it).

      So yeah, if you want to go nuts with the red pen, go nuts, and if you’d rather email, I’m fine with that. Or throw it out here, and others can comment as well. If not, it’s not something I feel I’m owed, and people have their own things to work on, and I understand.

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