Jenny Ch 02 10

Read the original 'Jenny' for context regarding the characters.

*****

Jenny Friedman picked the perfect shade of lipstick to wear to wear for her execution today. The condemned murderess is standing just a couple feet away from me on the other side of the bars, her orange lips pouting as she waits for me to escort her to the gas chamber. Only the bars separating us keep me from pressing my lips against hers. The gleam in her eyes beckons me to open the cell door and have my way with her on the cot rather than watch her choke and cough in the cloud of cyanide gas in which she will soon be immersed. She knows that only a last minute stay from the highest court in the land can save her life and that her time is about to run out.

The prisoner doesn't know it yet, but I am to be her executioner. If the court doesn't issue a stay, it will be my task to pull the lever that drops the cyanide pellets into the basin of acid beneath her seat, releasing the lethal hydrogen cyanide gas that will asphyxiate her.

Maybe she thinks that she can trade her body for her life. The guard standing outside her cell definitely has the hots for her. He is almost convinced that she didn't commit the murder the state says she must die for and that he is about to put an innocent young woman to death. If anyone can get her out of this he can.

I watch her wrap her lips around her index finger and slowly push it in and out of her mouth, hinting what her lips or pussy can do for me.

Maybe she thinks that rather than see her be gassed, I'll pull a gun on the warden when we and take him hostage. Or, better yet, take hostage a young female witness who might have a kid or two. That would surely get her out of this prison or get both of us killed.

But maybe this siren isn't so innocent and, while we're in the throes of passion, plans to stab me in the throat with a shiv and then find a hiding place in the labyrinthine passages of this old building while I'm bleeding to death.

But she's wrong. Her time's up. She's not going to get a stay. She's going to sit in that gas chamber and inhale the fumes. Nothing can stop that. And it's not because I don't have the hots for her or I'm afraid she'll kill me.

It's because I'm not going to let the quarter million dollars go to waste that I've spent to renovate this old jail. Declared a historical site, I've helped it be turned into a museum, the entrance fees to which go to fund the nonprofit that preserves other historic sites throughout the city in which I live. In a wing not open to the public, I have had a death chamber built so I can act out my kinky fantasies. Adjacent to it is a block of cells where my prisoner can await her mock execution.

My hard on has made a tent in my trousers as I survey my scrumptious wife standing behind the bars of the cell, clad in a black bra that barely covers her nipples, a matching g-string, and nothing else. That she has decided to look her best for her execution almost spoils the scene.

The nails at the end of her long slender fingers wrapped around the black bars separating us are painted scarlet. The diamonds surrounding the ruby implanted in a gold band on her right fourth finger glisten in the stark white light. She has not taken her engagement ring and wedding band off her left fourth finger.

The diamond earrings she got for our anniversary adorn her earlobes. A silver Star of David emblazoned with diamonds dangles from a silver chain around her neck. Decorating her navel is a silver hoop.

Hebrew letters spelling 'L'chaim' are written in henna on her right arm and a blue henna chain encircles her left arm.

Her chestnut curly mane falls to her shoulders. Bangs hang over her forehead. The blush that gives a healthy glow to her cheeks reminds me of what will be missing after her character is put to death. Just the right shade of foundation has made her face radiant in the stark white illumination of her death cell and the dank corridor that leads to a replica of the California gas chamber. Mascara, thick black eyeliner, and light blue shadow combine to make her eyes both slutty and sad; maybe in the hope of being so alluring I'll forget about my creepy fantasy and just fuck her instead.

But Jenny indulges my fetishes more than willingly, sending me to ecstasy just as the vanilla pleasures she enjoys do the same for her. Sometimes we even mix things up. She likes cunnilingus just as much with her wrists bound with her stockings to the posts on either side of our bed as she does with her hands free running her fingers through my hair.

But I'm not going to fuck her yet, no matter how much we both want it. The show must go on. Waiting in the ersatz death chamber to which her character will soon take her last walk, paid by the hour, is a film crew waiting to record her execution.

Today I have made the mistake of allowing the lead actress in my scene keep her mobile phone with her. The screen flashes on and I curse to myself upon hearing the buzz alerting the user of the arrival of a text message, knowing that the distraction will persist until the buzz is acknowledged. I'm careful to hide my annoyance lest it spoil her mood and prevent my star from giving her best performance.

The seductress vanishes. Dr. Jenny Friedman's brows furrow as she contemplates how to solve whichever obstetrical problem has been posed to her. But my displeasure goes away as I take in Jenny's curves while she leans against the wall banging out a text message.

She tosses the phone onto the cot. Turning again to me she is back in character, smiling lasciviously, no longer the caring doctor ready to cheerfully come to the assistance of any pregnant woman in need of her services regardless of the time of day or whether her husband wants to ravish her.

The lascivious smile still on her face, she saunters over to the bars of the cell. She wraps the fingers of both her hands around the bars and thrusts out her chest, exposing the little cleavage that isn't already showing. I follow her eyes down to the tent my rigid cock has made in my trousers.

"Nice," she remarks.

I then feel her left hand gripping my member and hear her giggle.

"I like him," she whispers.

Her hand moves up and down the shaft of my cock. I don't try to stop her but nor do I undo my trousers.

She then bats her mascara laden lashes and informs me, "This bad girl can help him if you help her."

"You're not getting out of this. You're going to sit in that gas chamber until the warden say it's time for us to open up the door and carry your body out. And face it. Then you'll be dead."

She forms her lips into an oval.

"But first wouldn't you like me to wrap these lips around that hard cock of yours? Wouldn't you like to cum in my mouth, squirt your jizz on my face, fuck me in the ass, or fuck my pussy the old fashioned way?"

"It took half a year to get that thing built and, goddamn it, I'm going to use it!" I exclaim, breaking character, half annoyed but almost ready to cum.

She picks up her mobile phone, leans against the wall again, kicks off her sandal, extends her left leg, and then slowly runs her heel down her right shin, all the while with a naughty grin on her face. As the phone screen flashes on, she says, "Just give me a minute."

I watch her long slender fingers dance on the mobile phone screen. An image of her favorite hunk with his flowing black hair, deep dark eyes, and his naked chest glistening with beads of sweat flashes onto the screen. I shouldn't be jealous but I hate her infatuation with him.

Jenny places her index finger to her lips and begins to fellate it again. She shoots a glance toward me and sees I'm still not ready to make love to her. Her index finger alights on the screen of the phone and swipes across it, displaying image after image of my talentless rival in different alluring poses. Happening upon one she finds particularly pleasing, her hand migrates to her crotch and her fingers disappear beneath the cloth of her g-string.

Unable to stand her teasing anymore, I turn the key and throw open the door to the cell. My wife makes no objection when I seize the phone from her hand and toss it on the cot. She immediately engulfs me in her arms and our lips lock in a passionate kiss, her ardor providing assurance that her love is only for me and not the vapid creature she had been ogling.

My cock slips into the groove between her labia as our tongues dance together. She does not stop grinding on me when our lips part and moans softly as we continue our embrace, cheek to cheek.

When she finally releases me I whisper into her ear, "It's time."

She saunters over to the mirror above the sink, the few steps taking longer than necessary in an attempt to extend her character's time on earth by a few seconds. I watch her cover up a tiny pimple beneath her chin with a dab of foundation, apply another coat of lipstick, add a little more blush to her cheeks, and then inspect her work in the mirror. After running her brush a few times through her hair and then opening the bottle of foundation to apply some to an imaginary blemish on her forehead, she turns to me and asks, "Do you like the way I look?"

It's something she need not be concerned about as long as she's married to me.

But before I can answer, the sound of a few notes from 'Pachelbel's Canon in D' emerges from her phone, indicating a caller's need for her medical expertise. "Shit!" she exclaims, sincere in her pique over the interruption of my fantasy. She picks it up from the cot and looks at the screen, sighing with relief before spitting out the words, "I'll call you back later!"

She powers down her phone and hands the device to me, which I slip it into my pocket. She then places her hands behind her back, offering me her wrists, now ready to begin the last walk.

I see Jenny's face in the mirror contorting into a frown as I finish clamping the manacles around her wrists. She turns to face me and our gazes meet, and with the lasciviousness gone from her countenance, her eyes plead with mine to spare her from the gas chamber.

I kneel down to shackle her ankles.

"No! No!" she exclaims.

Her right ankle breaks away from my grasp. I grip it firmly with my left hand and plant it on the floor as she continues trying to move it away.

"You must let me. I'll have to call for help and you'll get pepper spray in your eyes if you don't let me restrain you. You don't want this to be any worse than it has to be."

"I didn't do it. I'm not guilty! You must know that I could never kill anyone!"

"I know but the jury said you did and that's what the law goes by."

"I don't want to die!"

"I don't want to see you die either. But it won't take long. You'll go quick."

"That's not what I've heard. The other guards make sure we know how awful it is. It doesn't matter how long you hold your breath. No one's ever been able to make themselves pass out by not breathing. No matter how much a person is determined not to breath in the gas, they always end up doing it.

"And as soon as it hits your lungs you start coughing. And when the first coughing fit ends, you take in a bigger breath and cough even more.

"Your instincts make you try to get away from the gas, so to get out of the chair you're strapped into, people thrash around and push so hard against the straps that they sometimes even break their bones. It must hurt really a lot when the gas gets into their system because their faces get contorted like they're in the worst pain a person can be in.

"And they say a person can stay alive for fifteen minutes before it's over, coughing and choking with their arms and legs and head thrashing about, wide awake and knowing what's happening until the very end. Do you want to see that happen to me?"

"There's nothing more I can do. It's going to happen whether I lead you down that corridor or not, because someone else will. Don't you want me to be there?" I ask as I clamp a shackle around her right ankle.

"I love you!" she proclaims, looking down at me as I clamp the other shackle around her left ankle.

"We've become good friends. I'm sorry it happened this way."

I stand up and take her arm and nudge her forward to begin her last walk.

"Goddamn it! We're not just friends. I've been in love with you ever since I laid eyes on you. And I know you're in love with me. We need more time!"

My victim presses against me and I take her into my arms. She moans when my erect member slides into the groove between her labia. I don't try to make it stop when her pudenda begins grinding against my crotch.

She breaks free from my embrace and turns to her side. With her wrists still cuffed behind her back, she threads the tongue through the buckle of the black leather belt that holds up my trousers and manages to release the prong. Her fingers search for the button on the top of my pants, and it is soon unfastened. She then pulls down the zipper, exposing the glistening head of my tumescent cock.

The condemned woman kneels before me, grasps the waistband of my underpants between her teeth, and jerks my shorts down to my knees, leaving some of her orange lipstick on the fabric. My cock free, she watches it flop back and forth a couple of times and then looks up at me.

The leer on her face tells me she wants to do it with me more than anything else, even being alive. I watch the tip of her tongue circle her lips before she goes down on me.

I let out a sigh as my cock slides into her mouth. The character that I play is single and a virgin. He has never even made out with a girl.

I journey back in time to when I was a pimple-faced adolescent nerd who thought he'd end up working in a lab somewhere and never, ever, get laid. Instead, I launch myself on an alternative timeline, somehow embarking on a career as a corrections officer.

On this unlikely timeline, I guard the women on death row and dream about being the knight in shining armor who will save one of them from the gas chamber. Far off the timeline in which I am a billionaire happily married to the shackled woman with my cock in her mouth, I am now a man who is helpless to save from execution by lethal gas the woman who is fellating him.

The condemned woman's lips slide up and down the shaft of my erect cock and the tip of her tongue circles the corona, landing on the frenulum where it pleasures me with little licks and flicks. Almost ready to cum, I wonder if the woman who is fellating me will get mad if I shoot a load into her mouth, even though she's swallowed my semen scores of times in real life.

But she expels me just before I reach the point of no return and ascends from her knees, planting kisses on my torso. My arms wrap around her, our lips meet and, as my character kisses her, it is as if I am kissing a woman passionately for the first time.

She breaks out of our embrace and sits on the cot, beckoning me to join her. I uncuff her hands and push her head down onto the pillow. I then reapply the manacles to her wrists, shackling her to the spindles at the head of the cot. I move to her feet and free her ankles from the shackles. She patiently waits as I position her feet on either side of the cot. I thread the long tethering chain through the spindles at the foot of the cot, and clamp the shackles around her ankles again, spread eagling her.

She is breathing hard now, passion in her eyes, waiting for me to fuck her, pulling against the chains that keep me from her embrace. I get scared. What if someone sees us? What diseases might she give me? What if she gets pregnant? And then I chuckle to myself about the last worry. She ain't having no baby since she'll be dead within the hour.

"I want you inside me!" she cries out, the chains rattling as she struggles in vain to free her limbs.

I wonder if they take vaginal swabs after women have been executed to see who they've fucked to help them escape.

I mount the cot and kneel between her legs, watching her trying to lift her torso off the cot to kiss me, and then falling back, her efforts stymied by the chains securing her wrists and ankles. She lifts her pelvis, thrusting it at me, but is unable to reach the hard mass between my legs. She grimaces with frustration, unable to pleasure herself or me.

I look at the innocent woman who is about to die, desperate to be loved before the end of her life by the man whom she has fallen for, trembling as I worry that any second someone will appear and discover us. That behind the heavy green metal door at the end of the corridor are crystals of hydrogen cyanide waiting to be dropped by me into a vat of acid to kill the woman lying beneath me seems absolutely real.

I finally muster the courage to do what we both want. I lower myself onto her body and start rocking my pelvis on hers, just like she did to me. The look of a caged animal leaves her face. She dreamily gazes into my eyes and her struggles against the chains stop.

I move the flimsy piece of cloth that guards her pussy to the side. Her eyes close and she moans softly as I penetrate her. Our lips meet and our tongues dance in the ballroom that our two mouths joined together have become as I thrust in and out.

My misgivings vanish. I don't care what happens as long as I can fuck her. The door to the cell just a foot away, I'll slam it shut with my foot if anyone comes upon us. And after I expel my seed into her and they get the door open, I'll fight with every bit of strength I have to keep my woman from being taken to the gas chamber.

My lover doesn't waste any time. Knowing she is about to die, she thrusts her pelvis up and down beneath me, frantic to have a climax. I feel feel her body go limp as we kiss and I realize she has just orgasmed.

Suddenly she closes her legs and expels me. Instead of basking in the afterglow from making love to a woman for the first time, I look down at her, astonished.

"We can finish this if you can keep them from gassing me!"

I prop myself up on my elbows, my cock still hard as a rock. It surprises me to be angry with a creature who has given me such pleasure. I try to penetrate her again but she won't let me enter her.

"Get dressed! You're not going to be able to save me if you bring me there with your dick hanging out of your pants."

I reflexly do as she tells me. Looking down at her as I pull up my zipper and then buckle my belt, I wonder if she will reveal to the warden what we have just done.

A raspy voice sounds from my walkie-talkie, "Bring her in." Then there is silence on the line.

I look at the wet spot my precum has made on the front of my pants.

"Don't worry. I won't tell them what we just you just did to me."

I remove the shackles from her wrists. I then pull her hands behind her back and reapply the manacles to each wrist, my anger making me put them on tight this time. I unshackle her ankles. She places her feet on the floor and gets back into her sandals. I clamp the shackles to her ankles, crunching her skin against her tibia.

"Ouch!" she complains.

"From here on I'm just your guard."

I rise to my feet and take her right arm and coax her to move forward.

"I know I'm not going to die. You'll come up with something," she says with certainty.

I urge her forward and we exit the cell, the tether between her ankles rattling as it drags across the floor. I get hard again looking at her shackled wrists and ankles.

My anger is replaced by hopelessness. I will never get to spill my seed inside her. And maybe she just came onto me so I'll do something foolish in the execution chamber to buy her more time.

"That was your first time you were ever with a woman, wasn't it?"

I nod affirmatively, refusing to speak to the person who has just duped me.

"You're only my second. The guy I killed was the first. So if you die saving me, it will be according to pattern."