Jade Unicorn

This is the end of this set of stories, but perhaps there is more to explore with these characters? Please let me know your interests in hearing more about them by leaving a comment. And, of course, please do give it the number of stars that reflects your enjoyment; it helps me know I've connected with you. - ek.

We kissed goodbye in the morning, in the entry: Lise waiting for a ride to the airport, Jade hopping a tram to school, and I, already late for an appointment, racing to the car.

"Call us!" I shouted on my way to the garage.

"I'll call you when I land!"

Jade had been teary all morning, setting the tenor for all of us.

"I have some presents for you," Lise said, later. "I'll leave them in the den. You can open them when you get back."

"When will you be back?" Jade had asked the night before, her fingers playing with Lise's nipples, enjoying the sound she made when she tweaked them in just a certain way.

"A couple months…oh!"

That could mean anything.

But I kept quiet; Jade might have been thinking the same thing, or maybe she was still innocent enough to believe it. The truth was that Lise couldn't predict when or where her job took her. She would be back whenever she could make it, or, like this time, when she couldn't wait any longer for a proper fuck. But maybe there was more truth to her answer this time. Jade had changed, with Lise's guidance, but Lise had definitely changed as well. Jade and I both felt it, seeing the possibility of Lise's longer term commitment.

Jade was in the den by the time I'd returned, her present sitting on the coffee table, her face glued to her screen.

"You waited for me. That was nice." I picked mine up and sat next to her, placing hers on her lap.

Mine was smallish, the box not much bigger than my hand. Hers was obviously clothes: a pillow shaped package, light and soft.

"Wow," I said admiring the gift. "That'll look amazing on you!"

She'd already gotten up to press it against her front, confirming it would fit. "I should try it on, right?"

I nodded, watching as she laid it down and stripped off to her panties.

"Why leave those on?"

She stuck her tongue out at me, but I was being serious. She pulled the outfit up her legs: a one-piece cotton jumpsuit, sheer enough to see her golden-brown skin, except around her breasts. There were cotton pads there that hid her nipples. Zipped up, she looked practically undressed, except she was completely covered. I could see the outline of her underwear, understanding why she'd left it on.

I unwrapped mine, pulling out a paper wrapped object, greenish tones peeking out. Unwrapping it, I could see it was a horse…and then it transformed into a unicorn carved from a green stone. It was beautiful, detailed and delicate.

"Holy shit," she exclaimed. "A unicorn…?!"

I nodded and looked at her, the meaning sinking in. "A Jade unicorn."

A few weeks later, Jade came to dinner with a strange expression. "I…hmmm, I'm not sure what's happening, actually…I…I'm a little worried, actually!"

I shook my head once, waiting for something more. When she stayed silent, I prompted her. "Are you physically unwell? Might you be pregnant? Did something happen at school?"

She giggled. "No, NO!, and, well, yes, but not today."

I waited.

"I think I met someone…?"

I felt some small thing in me break. Not my heart. Not that big, but something more in my core. A crystal thing.

"Someone…?"

She couldn't look me in the face, her gaze at the table top, nodding.

"And is he a student? Is he part of your research group?" I was quiet. I was calm. I knew something had changed, that this wasn't another one of her experiments or research. "You know whatever it is you can tell me, right? T and H, Jade. No matter what."

She broke down and cried, not sobbing or wailing, just tears flowing down her face, her cheeks twisted up, her mouth quivering. I reached over and hugged her, and she wrapped her arms around me, the sobbing starting for real.

I comforted her, whispering that it was okay, that she should follow her heart. We stayed like that for awhile until she could talk about it, and once she started, she couldn't stop.

She was conflicted—she felt something for him she'd never felt before, but she didn't want to lose what she'd come to think of as her life.

It was the pure moment of youth: you don't know the value of what you've got because you don't know what to compare it to. Should I have 'fought' for her? I could hear her making the argument, like she had made so many times before: 'If I really cared for her, I'd fight for her.' Even when I heard it in my head I laughed.

The irony was that she didn't even bring it up. Either she knew it wouldn't matter, or she realized that there was nothing to fight. Fight her feelings for another person? Fight her growing apart? Fight her right to choose her own path?

She didn't move out right away, and she didn't stop wanting to have sex. It was sweet, actually. A calm, sweet, familiar feeling. How did she explain it to him? I was only curious in an academic way, but she didn't offer, and I didn't care enough to ask. I knew she was having sex with him; I could smell him on her, and on more than one night, she'd ask me to suck on her, to pull his cum out of her. I thought it was cute. He didn't taste so bad.

"I need you to fuck me like you own me," she said the night before she was ready to go.

"I don't know what that means," I responded. "I don't know what it's like to 'own' someone."

"Property. Like I'm your property."

I shook my head. It wasn't even close to a turn-on for me, and I told her that.

She looked angry, or frustrated. "I want to feel like an object of your desire."

Ahh. That I understood.

"You aren't feeling guilty, are you? That sounds like you want to be used, that you don't want to feel anything."

She looked past me, her expression tight. "I don't feel…guilty. I do feel as if I've wronged you, and I know that's not how you feel. But I feel like I should be held accountable for what I've done. I know. We've discussed this a hundred times, but I can't shake it."

We had gone over this several times since she'd met him, and it had occurred to me each time that whatever her argument, it was hiding her need to feel punished. This was her last chance at redemption, to be held to account for her offense against me. Even if she couldn't admit that it was a false perspective and that I didn't share her point of view. This time, I had a flash of insight.

"Come with me." We had been in the solarium, watching the sunset. For the past few weeks, since her decision to leave, she'd been more reserved in her nudity, throwing on a shirt or shorts when we weren't having sex. It was amusing to me; she was unconscious about it. Or maybe he had made her commit to it. She was clearly his bottom; she was conflicted in her loyalties.

So much to learn.

"Wait." I stopped her, the setting sun framing her against the windows. I walked back and raised her arms, slipping the t-shirt off. She almost wrapped her arms around herself, but caught herself and stopped, unsure where to put her arms, her hands. "On the top of your head."

I unhooked her bra, releasing her breasts. From my position she was silhouetted against the sun, her sleek figure clearly nude, but nothing visible. I slipped her shorts and underwear down, seeing her jewelry glinting softly in the reflected light. "Stay like that for a sec."

I raised my phone and took pictures of her, backlit by the sun, she was a statue, a goddess, naked but not revealed. I walked around her, photographing her back, her naked cheeks reflecting gold in the setting sun.

"Turn for me," I said softly, "show me what I'll be missing. Show him what he's missing."

She followed my directions, keeping her hands on her head, her breasts coming into the light, her rings glinting golden against the black hair around her lips.

"Nice. Hold it there." She was nibbling her lower lip. I kept taking pictures, until the sun had set, leaving her in a bluish tinged aureole: a golden goddess surrounded by a blue halo.

I undid my belt and knelt in front of her. "What does he think of these?" I fed the tongue through the middle rings and closed the loop, standing up.

"He…he loves them…they're one of the reasons he fell for me."

I nodded, pulling gently on them, her labia extending before she gasped and followed me.

When we arrived at the dungeon, her labia were swollen, not from irritation but from arousal. She was panting, not sure what I had in store. I'd never been quite this forceful with her, even though she was willingly participating. "You know this won't be like you've been with Lise," I said.

Or like with him, I guess.

She nodded, her head down. I could smell her.

I stood her in the room, my belt hanging from the rings, her labia dragged toward the floor, posing her for more pictures. "I'll send you them." She licked her lips and chewed on her bottom lip, nodding, looking around.

I had been considering my choices: 'object' meant separating her from me, placing her in space, being observed. She would need to be restrained, to remove her agency. But this wouldn't be shibari; that was intimate. And it needed to be novel, not a repeat of anything we'd done; we'd avoided 'object' as much as possible.

She needed to be objectified at the start. We'd start with restraints. I glanced to the ceiling, making sure she saw me confirming the hardware was still there, and opened the cupboard to grab the necessities.

"What…umm…I…"

"Shhh, Jade. Objects don't talk. I may have to gag you, do you understand?"

She swallowed, her eyes widening. She'd never seen this in me. On purpose. It wasn't part of our dynamic. But now that she had chosen to separate herself, had asked me to objectify her, we were going to satisfy her the best way I knew how.

"You remember your safe word. And your song." Fittingly from the musical.

She nodded, her lip practically inside her mouth.

"Again, for my sake, you understand this won't be the way Lise has done it. This isn't like that." I waited until she acknowledged me before continuing. I started with her arms: cuffing her wrists and raising them above her head. Attaching them together, I fed a rope through an eyelet on the cuffs, and then over a hook in the ceiling, letting the ends fall to the floor.

"I like the way your breasts stand at attention when you're stretched out this way. Your nipples are very inviting."

She looked down to see what I was seeing and looked back as I continued my preparations.

"Shhh. This is my last warning." She had whimpered slightly, for no reason I could imagine, except a rising anxiety from her imagination.

I dragged a concrete foundation block, fitted with a ratcheting connector, a few feet behind her, pulling the rope through and tightening it until her body was stretched taut. Her heels were still on the floor, but not for long.

"It's been a while since I've done this scene, Jade. Eva never got off on it for herself, but she loved doing it with others. Me, especially. So different from the rope work we've been enjoying, right?"

I reached up and stroked her nipples, watching as they crinkled and swelled.

"You can see how easy it is to make use of you: your breasts, your cunt. Eva enjoyed the anticipation, the promise of…what do you anticipate, Jade? You may speak."

"Oh, fuck, Elroy. I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…I know it was shitty of me. I…you're…not angry…this isn't…revenge…?"

I stroked her cheek and smiled, staring her in the eyes. "I'm not angry Jade. This isn't revenge. You have nothing to feel sorry for. You fell in love. That's a beautiful thing. And now…now you are giving me the gift of your body, before you leave. What are you anticipating?"

She shivered, her breasts swaying, her tongue working her lips. "I," she looked down to see my cock, but I was still dressed. There was a hint of a bulge there. "I am thinking you're going to fuck me until you're satisfied, whether you allow me to cum or not. I'm seeing you fuck me in my ass and my cunt, but I wanted to feel your cock down my throat and that doesn't look like it's going to happen."

I nodded, stroking her nipples as she related her fantasy, watching her muscles moving under her arms, along her thighs, her jaw.

"Thank you for letting me know what you were imagining, Jade. That is exactly what I wanted to hear. Now, I'm going to do as you asked. You asked to be the object of my desire. I will treat you like an object."

I set up two tripods and video cameras for a two angle shot, ignoring her silent questions. This would be a present for her, for them: a photo montage of her objectification, something she could study after she'd gone, something he could use however he wanted.

"Objects are admired, viewed, studied. They are ornaments, art, scientific curiosities. But they are silent; they cannot see; they cannot hear; they cannot speak.

"I know, shhh, shhh. I know. This is different. This isn't me. This isn't us." I whispered softly in her ear. "You know what to say, or, what to hum, because an object can't speak."

I showed her the gag before I fitted it into her mouth. It was a rubber coated ring: her lips wrapped around it, her jaw forced open. In the video she looked like she was astonished, her expression an open "oh!" I secured it behind her neck and showed her one of its accessories: a silicon dildo that slipped across her tongue and into her throat.

"A poor substitute for my cock, but it will have to do, for now."

She was struggling not to gag, her throat making gurgling noises and her stomach contracting. "You know what to do to make it stop," I whispered again, close to her ear. "I love you, Jade, and I promised you I would never hurt you. Please put a stop to this as soon as you need. Until then, I will make you an object of desire."

I took out a blindfold—an effective blackout mask—and molded it to her face, wrapping the straps behind her head. She shook her head, her gagging stopping for a moment, followed by a belch, her lips struggling against the ring.

"Are you humming?"

She shook her head, drool leaking down her chin, dropping onto her breasts.

"And, objects can't hear. I'm going to put a microphone next to your throat so I can hear you humming if you decide to stop, okay?"

She nodded, regulating her breathing through her nose, her chest rising and falling in a gentle pattern as I wrapped a wire around her neck. A moment later, the sounds from her throat were amplified from speakers in the ceiling.

I placed sound deadening plugs in her ears, covering them with headphones playing white noise.

I watched her for a minute, confirming the cameras were capturing her as I was seeing her: cut off from the world, a body, two breasts, her nipples pushed out by her jewelry, a cunt, held closed by her rings and my belt. I knew what she was going through. The times Eva had isolated me, I recalled the initial panic, her calming me, followed by a period of peace, of leaving my body. Until she played me. I waited until I could sense Jade settling, her jaw relaxing, her head drooping, her spit flowing into her chest.

I dragged two more blocks next to her, placing them about four feet apart, just outside her feet. I gently stroked her cheek and she jerked, her muffled cry distorted in the room. I continued caressing her, down her neck, her ribs, her waist, thigh, calf until I rubbed her foot and moved it to its nearby block. I secured it there, rubbing her calf for a moment, feeling the warmth of her skin, knowing it was disorienting, distracting, not my usual caress.

I repeated the ritual on her left side, so that now she was barely supported by the balls of her feet, her body sagging slightly. I tightened the rope and she shrieked, not in pain, but surprised, her jerks twisting her for a moment before she calmed.

She had thought I would fuck her, and I probably would, in all the places she'd imagined, but first I wanted her to feel like an object, to experience being an object. And for that, I didn't want her to feel another human's touch.

I dragged another block in front of her, taking a coil of thin nylon cord from a drawer. Gently telegraphing my intentions, I stroked her breast, playing with her jewelry. A few weeks after getting them, she'd attached two accessories on the nipple rods—open loops—which she'd left on. Probably at his request. I slipped the cord through the loops on her right breast and carefully pulled it toward the block, tightening it until her breast was pulled out and down, held taut by the cord. The speakers emitted a continuous high pitched keening, her fingers wriggling in their prison. After immobilizing her left breast, I took snapshots for her diary.

I slid the pommel horse, aligning it behind her, dropping it nearly to the floor. Positioned between her legs, but not yet touching her, I opened its seat and oriented the two arms to her holes. I knew with her primary senses deadened her skin would be sensitive to the movement of air, her feet could feel the vibrations from the floor. She

knew

something was happening between her legs but she didn't know what.

Her gurgled moans came over the speakers, but it wasn't the hum of a broadway musical. She yelped when I opened her cheeks and dropped lube on her anus. She wriggled, as much from surprise as from the sensation. I inserted my finger to get her slippery, before bringing up the machine and carefully pushing the anal peg against her hole. The speaker erupted with another moan, this one sounding more like pleasure than surprise.

I left the peg just at her entrance, spreading her cheeks to watch her sphincter open and close, trying to either grab or expel the intruder. Letting them go, I turned my attention to her cunt.

I rarely used the term, reserving it for specific occasions. This was one of those cases. Jade used it about herself rarely, but not never, a topic of conversation we'd had a few months into our relationship.

"Suck my cunt," she directed me during a late night extended love-making. "I need to feel your tongue deep in me."

"Stick your hard cock up my cunt," she demanded a few weeks later. "I want to spread my slime all over that stick of wood."

Later, lying in our hazy afterglow I asked her why she used 'cunt' vs. 'pussy' vs. other less common but euphemistic terms I'd noticed she'd used for her genitalia.

She nuzzled her nose into my neck and breathed in deeply. "I don't really care for either of those terms, usually. I think they're demeaning and crude. But sometimes, when I'm really keyed up, 'cunt' is the right word to use. I've never used it before you," she remarked. "That's interesting. Help remind me tomorrow to make a note of it."

But as an object, Jade's body ceased to be romantic or sentimental: she had parts, and those parts were used for purposes. Her cunt was going to be used, by me eventually, but now to reinforce her objectification.

I undid the belt, pulling it slowly through her rings, the movements triggering more noises over the speaker, her back arching in response or need. Watching her opening, seeing the moisture gathering there, I considered my next moves carefully. An image of her labia pulled wide open, stretched and extended, gave me the purpose I needed.

I stroked them, sliding my fingers down the outsides and up along her slit, the rings bumping cool against my skin. Under other circumstances, I'd have teased her, describing what I was seeing, what I was going to do. But she was deaf to the room.

Leaving her, I returned to the cabinet, gathering several lengths of fine silken rope. I slid them through my hands, enjoying their slipperiness. Eva had reserved these for particularly sweet tortures, ones that didn't risk them getting wet or stained. I considered the damage my use would do to them, taking a moment to think of other options. There were nylon cords, but not enough of the right length. There were lots of other ropes, but they were either too few, too thick, or too short.