Caught In The Shadow [Jenlisa]

Epilogue 12

February. Things were changing. Again. Some of the changes, perhaps even most of them, I enjoyed.

My favorite development had to do with Jennie's thirst to be dominated. Since "The Laptop Incident" and our subsequent pact to be more forthcoming with one another, Jennie had no choice but to break her silence on the subject.

Some of it hadn't been surprising. The sex we'd been having had been undoubtedly familiar to me. I knew Jennie enjoyed being spanked, chased, held down, and occasionally fucked in her ass. What I hadn't anticipated was her desire for what she called games and I referred to as reenactments.

It had been my hope that upon finding Jennie again, we would start fresh and pretend the past had never occurred.

However, all freshmen are required to take psychology and Jennie seemed to take to it like a duck to water. She wanted to experiment with Exposure Therapy in the hopes that by reliving some of her experiences in a safe environment, she would no longer fear them.

Needless to say, I thought it was a bat-shit crazy idea (that's the technical term). The last thing I wanted was to reprise my role as Jennie's captor. What if it didn't work and she ended up hating me? It took a great deal of convincing from Jennie, but ultimately I'd agreed to some of the less... disturbing moments.

One morning I made us breakfast, put it on a wheeled cart from IKEA, and took it into Jennie's room. Jennie had taken the time to prepare herself while I cooked breakfast, and I'd been pleasantly surprised to find her wearing one of my white button-up shirts and a dainty pair of kitten ears. I understood the significance of the shirt. The ears were a nice touch. I felt that touch center mass.

"Should I take my shirt off?" I asked. History dictated I should.

"If you're over your self-indulgent modesty," she whispered. In the past, I would have found her words incendiary—another time, another place—but in our reimagining I found them to be... charming.

I'd removed my shirt, enjoying the way Jennie's eyes lusted instead of feared. I took a chance and played along.

"It's a pity I have nothing to bind you with. I'd be hard-pressed to recall anyone who looks as good as you do in a collar and shackles."

Jennie turned and brought me a box from beneath her bed. Inside I found a jeweled collar, a leash, and a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. I laughed.

"Oh my, you have been a busy girl. When and where did you get these?"

Jennie blushed and the memory was further reshaped.

"I ordered them online," she said timidly. Her hands were already behind her back and she swayed gently from side to side.

I kissed her. It was a light meeting of lips, a token.

"Turn around," I ordered. Jennie shivered and a small sound escaped her lips. She complied quickly.

As I fed Jennie breakfast while she knelt at my feet, I was struck by several thoughts. First, I realized the power of forgiveness. Second, I found Jennie's game enticing. Third, I could never leave Jennie. Fourth, I never wanted to leave her.

For better or worse, Jennie had been irrevocably altered by her experiences with me. She was a nineteen-year-old with proclivities no one her age would understand and a vulnerability any creep like me could easily spot and take advantage of.

She was strong, smart, willful, and driven, but she was also soft, trusting, and needy where her heart was concerned. Jennie needed taking care of.

Other changes in our relationship I didn't enjoy quite as much. As part of our pact, Jennie and I discussed our fears, hopes, and aspirations for what our relationship could be. She wanted to know more about my past, Mexico, and the less gruesome ways I'd spent my year away from her.