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From Jeannie to Vanessa Ch. 01

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This is a story about my journey from girlhood to womanhood. It’s about how I learned to understand what makes me tick (and what makes me go boom). As implausible as it might seem, it’s also about the power I gained by submitting to the will of others. It’s a journey into a mirror; such a journey could be of one step, or a thousand, and might very well contain a few missteps along the way. It is, of course, my version of things, with dialogue and events reconstructed from memory and diaries I kept. You may think it’s ridiculous, but since it actually happened to me, that’s OK. I guess I’m really writing it for myself, so I don’t have as much concern about what you, dear reader, think of it (or of me). But, still, I hope you find it interesting.

Chapter 1: Jeannie is pushed over the edge.

The story starts with my love affair with Jack. I was known as Jeannie then. Yep, Jack and Jeannie. We attended small colleges in the South that were located about an hour’s drive apart, but we both came from the same small city. We had attended different high schools but met through a mutual friend who later attended the same college as Jack. The circumstances of our meeting were kind of sweet, but not important to the story I’m trying to tell. The beginning of the story takes place in the mid-1980’s, so no mobile phones, or internet — a very different time from today.

I guess I should say a word about the two of us. Personality-wise, Jack was kind of a nerd. Read a lot of science fiction and fantasy but was a very nice guy, always something interesting to talk about and lots of fun to do things with. I was kind of a nerd myself, a big reader also. I had REALLY been a nerd in high school, heavy glasses, straight hair and dowdy clothes. I was fortunate I had pretty clear skin, blessed or lucky I guess, and didn’t have to deal with the scourge of acne. A few of my friends went to work on me in the summer before my senior year and I guess you would say I blossomed — with my hair combed out and permed, a little makeup, shorter skirts, and contacts (yay for contacts!!!), I was told I looked pretty good. I had some good times with a few guys that last year in high school, kind of making up for lost time, just in time to graduate and head off to a mostly-female college (booo!!!).

At the time this story really begins, Jack and I had been together for almost a year, and had been lovers most of that time. We were somewhat “experimental” as young lovers often are. I say experimental knowing that modern readers may smile faintly when I say that, but these things were new to us (or at least to me). I was nominally a virgin when I met Jack, I had never gone all the way with a boy although I had gone down on a guy before and done some other things that we would have called “heavy petting” at the time. Jack was not a virgin, but I honestly don’t think he had much more experience than I did when we met.

I think I surprised him a little the first time I went down on him (sucked his cock, Jack would prefer me to say) and swallowed.

I think he actually held me at arms length for a moment and stuttered something like, “You swallowed my cum!” (a little obvious, I would have said).

I sweetly responded, “Was that OK?”

“Of course it’s OK!” he said, and added, “That’s what you’re supposed to do!”

After that first time, oral sex became a key part of our lovemaking.

Our experimenting was some about location, a little bit about clothing and a lot about fantasies. We made love out of doors often, and sometimes he would have me walk some distance (in the woods) with nothing on but sneakers. We had sex in the student union’s “reading room” at my school and once in the choir room of the chapel. He got me to go bra-less in a see-through blouse and walk across campus at his school once, he thought that was way sexy. I didn’t have big boobs, just a 34B in the bra department, but Jack really seemed to like them, which pleased me no end.

He was inordinately fascinated by me in short skirts, or any kind of skirt or dress, really. We once sat on the floor at a school function and he managed to insinuate his hand under my skirt and play with my pussy throughout the event. I still can’t remember what was going on at that event, I was totally wound up by his “undercover” manipulations, even through the pantyhose and panties I was wearing. Jack enjoyed fondling me, squeezing my boobs through my clothes, rubbing my pussy under my skirt, and so on. Of course I enjoyed it too! I always got really wet when he did that. Although I would often push him away and act embarrassed, I liked it!

Jack discovered garter belts and stockings and wanted me to wear them, but women in our part of the country had long moved on from those complicated underthings to the relative simplicity of pantyhose, and I was reluctant to turn back the clock. We had recently become engaged, however, and I put him off by promising that I would wear them otele gelen escort for him some after we were married. I’m sure the faint smiles from the more experienced readers will have turned to chuckles or maybe outright laughter at this point, but hey, we were typical church-going southern college kids of the time.

One of the “risque'” things that we did regularly engage in while having sex was domination and submission fantasies. Sometimes I was the maid with the wealthy landowner; other times he was the poor peasant coerced by the queen. Occasionally they were more violently oriented, usually with me acting out the part of the defenseless girl attacked by a home invader. All of these were costume- and device-free; in other words, these were all verbal fantasies, the only physical part being the sex act which was the consummation of the story. Sometimes the fantasy would involve Jack forcibly removing the clothing of the submissive partner (me), turning me over for a spanking or something like that. Although I liked being the “queen,” I got particularly excited when he was the dominant party, and that more and more became the theme of our fantasy love life.

I was multi-orgasmic from the beginning of our sex life and frequently would cum so hard that I would actually pass out. Jack worried a little bit about me then, and would usually administer mouth-to-mouth resuscitation (no, really, not just kissing, I mean blowing air into my lungs) until I revived. He told me he did this because he had no desire to fuck a sleeping girl, or a corpse — he wanted me to feel and enjoy the moment as the sex, as he put it, “was not just all about his pleasure.” What a gem! I adored making love with him from the get-go. Thank God for birth control pills!

Another thing that we gradually moved onto was the use of more, well, “pornographic” terms while having sex. We still talked about making love, having sex, “sleeping together” etc., but during the act Jack encouraged words like fuck and cunt and slut. This was a little weird at first; strong language was pretty foreign to me at the time, but I was no prude and I thoroughly enjoyed sex with Jack. I found it easier and easier to say those words. During sex, which is when he most encouraged it, they really became associated with me being horny and turned on and I began to be more and more comfortable using them. I guess I used them more in my mind, sometimes, than out loud, but as time wore on, I definitely found places to use the coarser language I was beginning to learn.

After some of our dominant/submissive games, Jack would hint around with a smile that I’d better be careful when he wasn’t with me, I might encounter a dangerous scoundrel that would take advantage of me. I would act mock-scared, fluttering my hands and saying things like “I would just be helpless, they would be able to do whatever they wanted with me” or some such blather. I kind of expected that eventually I would be “helpless” in the hands of a “scoundrel” who would likely look and sound just like Jack…

One night, we had been to dinner together in our hometown and played around under the table and in the car a little in anticipation of more fun later. As usual (and with Jack’s encouragement) I had on a short skirt, pantyhose, and white button-up blouse (easy access, you know). One thing was kind of new — Jack had been encouraging me to wear higher heels. Normally I the best I could do was pumps or wedges with about 1 1/2-inch heels or occasionally boots with 2-inch block heels. Jack had saved up some money and took me to a shoe store and bought me a set of shoes with 4-inch high heels. They were brown suede and had really slender heels…not what you’d later call “stilettos” but still pretty high and skinny and very sexy.

So I had these new shoes on that night and was still adjusting in how to walk in them. Jack loved seeing them on me. We had fucked once with me wearing them and he was like a demon! So I expected I would be wearing heels a lot more.

When we were home from school, after the “official” date event, we would often drive about 45 minutes to a vacation cabin Jack’s parents owned on a nearby lake. There, we could screw with abandon. This time, however, we made a brief stop at his parents’ main house as he said they were out for the evening. Jack said he needed to go to the bathroom. After emerging from the guest bathroom at the front of the house, he encouraged me to go as well. I didn’t need to go that badly, but anticipating a medium-long drive (with Jack playing with me, and with me probably sucking his cock as he drove), I figured it was a good idea.

While I was in there, checking my makeup in the mirror, I heard some thumps and a door slamming out in the hallway. I was hoping his parents hadn’t come home unexpectedly, although we weren’t either of us in a compromising position (remember when you were scared you’d get caught türkmen escort by your parents?) so I carefully turned off the lights in the bathroom, edged the door open and stepped out. The hall (that had been lighted when I went in) was completely dark.

I called out “Jack?” and heard some more thumps and a dragging noise.

Suddenly a hand grabbed my neck from the front and there was a face, hidden by a dark-colored ski mask, inches from mine. The other hand pointed a very real-looking gun in my face as well. Now I’m no gun expert; Jack had taken me shooting several times so I knew he had guns and was familiar with them. I tried to discern from the parts of the face I could see if it was Jack in the mask; the face was definitely the right skin-color so that was a positive clue. I tried to look down to see what the “villain” was wearing, but the hand around my neck was practically lifting me off my feet and kept my head up high. And the hand was tight — it was in the “you’re hurting me” range, but I was determined to be tough and play the game, ’cause game is what I was pretty sure this was. Jack’s “dangerous scoundrel” had finally come to call.

A guttural voice (maybe Jack?) emerged from the mask and ordered, “Turn around, cunt!”

I started to scream then and suddenly, in the midst of opening my mouth, I felt a large rubber ball go in. It was so big it pushed up and down on my wide-open teeth as it went in. I tried to close my mouth against it or say something but the “masked man” was too quick. It was like he was really familiar with how to gag a person. The ball had a wide leather strap through it, a strap that was rapidly pulled around to the back of my head and secured somehow (buckled? tied? I wasn’t sure). A bag went over my head and I felt handcuffs (handcuffs?) going around my wrists. It was a little uncomfortable but kind of sexy, in a weird way.

What was not weird at all (and was vintage Jack) was the hand that pulled up my skirt and rubbed and squeezed my pussy. It seemed to be gloved, which I thought was carrying things a bit far, but my attention was diverted as the hand continued up my chest and squeezed both boobs and pinched the nipples roughly through my clothes. I was beginning to breathe a little harder through my nose and around the mouth-filling gag, a little from the surprise and fear and a little from something else.

Now the reason that I was so surprised about all the preparation and hardware was that we were college students, for God’s sake, we didn’t either one of us have a lot of money. So we had a ski mask, ball-gag (yeah, I knew what it was), handcuffs and goodness knows what else invested in this little game (I was pretty sure it was Jack).

But, now that he had me gagged, hooded, and handcuffed, whoever it was frog-marched me out the side door into the garage. It looked like I was still going for a little ride, only more as baggage rather than as a passenger. I actually thought I was going in the trunk for a minute, but I guess my assailant decided that was carrying things a little too far. I agreed; I did not want to ride in a trunk, no matter how nice the car. Instead, Jack (after not going in the trunk I was a little more confident it WAS Jack) conducted me into the backseat of a fairly large car and laid me down on the seat. This was a little odd, as I knew Jack drove a Toyota compact, but I figured he’d borrowed a car for his “kidnapping.” Another set of cuffs went on my ankles and he then used the seat belts to secure me tightly to the seat before draping a light blanket over me.

Just before he covered my head, he put a wire around my neck. In the same growling tone as before, he warned me that if we were to get stopped, I should stay completely silent; if he heard even a squeak from me he would pull the wire. He described how it was run through the seat belt anchors so that as he pulled from the driver’s seat it would pull me back into the seat and strangle me. That was fucking scary, and I began to wonder if this was, indeed, Jack. You may think this was crazy, but I was somewhat reassured when my assailant lifted the blanket and roughly fondled me again before heading for the driver’s seat.

Jack obviously wanted to keep me off-balance, and it was working. Although I was still confident it was all a game, I was genuinely terrified that we’d have an accident and the wire would get pulled while I was gagged, strapped, and cuffed in the backseat. And yet, I was also turned on. I was completely helpless, I had been groped in a rough but sexy way twice, and I was looking forward to fucking Jack all tied up or something. I think I kind of passed out at that point.

Suddenly we were arriving; I had planned to listen to turns and count the minutes to try to find out if we were going someplace familiar (like the lake cabin). I think all of that went out the window when the wire went around my neck. At least we hadn’t evi olan escort had an accident! The blanket came off of me, the seat belt straps were released and I was turned roughly face down. Another couple of rough squeezes, this time of my ass, and the bag came off and was replaced with a proper blindfold, the kind sleepers use, only it seemed heavier (backed with leather maybe) and was also fastened securely behind my head. ANOTHER piece of special kidnapping gear.

I thought my ankle cuffs would be removed but nooooo…I had to walk, blindfolded, gagged, arms cuffed behind my back, ankles cuffed with a short chain between, AND in 4-inch heels. This seemed a bit much for a fantasy and I was actually getting a little pissed off. I thought about giving Jack a piece of my mind when all of this was done. Fortunately it was a short walk — shorter than I remembered actually (I figured we were at the lake cabin, but things didn’t seem quite right) and suddenly I was being pushed down onto my knees (on a small cushion at least, my anger with Jack cooled a bit). I had no idea what I was in for.

I felt the wire go back around my neck, and the low angry voice once again sounded close to my ear; “Make a sound, or try to bite, and I will yank this wire and it will be the last fucking thing that your mouth does.”

The gag-strap began to loosen and the ball was pulled out of my mouth. I tasted rubber, briefly, as I tried to work my stiff jaws a little and I wasn’t surprised when I heard a rustle of clothing very close to my face and then, very distinctly, the sound of a zipper being slowly lowered. Then, without further preamble, a stiff cock replaced the gag.

“Now we are getting down to the sex part!” I thought as I began to work my magic.

But I quickly realized my voluntary efforts were not going to be enough to satisfy my assailant. He put his hands behind my head and plainly demonstrated he wanted a deeper penetration. Now, you’ve got to understand that although the movie Deep Throat had been out for over ten years, and even innocent little Jeannie had seen it, the concept of face- or throat-fucking was still somewhat new. Remember that this was before the great Informer, the internet, had arrived, and deep throat sex was not (or so I believed) a common practice among the more genteel class of society that I had thought Jack and I were a part of.

However, this character wanted exactly that, and with merciless use of hands in my hair, his fist, and growled orders, got across the point that he wanted mouth open and throat relaxed. Jack was pretty well endowed, and this guy almost seemed even thicker and longer (no doubt my perspective from being bound, blindfolded and on my knees). I gagged, fought and protested as much as I could but in the end my mouth and throat became just a sleeve for this man’s cock. It seemed like a long struggle, but probably it was really just a few minutes before he pumped a load of hot, sticky cum into me. He slapped my face, hard, and ordered me to swallow all of it. That’s not something Jack would have needed to do, although my “assailant” wouldn’t have known that, I reasoned. I did what I was told and gulped the huge load as best as I could, but inevitably some dripped down my chin.

I sagged between his knees, gagging and coughing, really kind of broken for the moment. The brutal assault on my mouth and throat had truly been the most violent thing I had ever personally experienced. It had also turned me on like nothing I had ever known before. It was so hot! I know the feminists out there are clucking their tongues in disapproval — but I could only feel what I felt. I felt a hand, probably the same one that had just slapped me, stroke my hair soothingly. Then, as if the assailant realized he had shown weakness, he yanked my head up by that same hair and quickly re-inserted the gag. It wasn’t really necessary — I was speechless at that moment — but I knew (intellectually) it was part of the continuing domination and control.

Then I was lifted to my feet and walked a few steps — staggered, really, dazed and chained and in the still-unfamiliar high heels — and then was laid onto a nearby bed. It was not an uncomfortable mattress, actually. My heart began to beat a little faster — this had all been a LOT of preparation for a little fantasy fuck — and I was still a little disconcerted about how roughly I had just been treated. Jack was always so considerate of me, I guess I was seeing another side of him tonight. Not all bad…

My cuffed ankles were pulled out straight (but still together) and secured to the foot of the bed/mattress; I could hear the rattle of chains against some kind of metal frame. After I was pulled tightly towards the foot of the bed, my arms were pulled pretty far over my head from behind and secured. Then, one at a time, my wrists were released from the handcuffs and secured again by what seemed to be wide leather straps, one each chained to the left and right corners of the metal bed frame. Then the process was repeated with my legs, until I was in the classic damsel-in-distress spread-eagle position on the bed. It occurred to me that throughout the whole process I was fully secured to the bed and released and re-secured only one limb at a time.

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