In The Arms of an Angel - A rewrite
by Michael Elk
A rewrite of the sex scene, in response to the critique by Spiros Bousbouras. Hope you enjoy.


With a light rain beginning to fall, I was pleased to see the grey Nissan
Sentry begin to slow and then stop some 100 feet past me in response to my
digital plea for transportation. On hustling to the vehicle, I was even more
pleased (and certainly surprised) to find the driver to be female. She was an
older woman, perhaps 40, with blonde hair and a friendly smile, a pleasant
change in a world where it seemed that only the brave and the male would stop
for a harmless college student. I had assured my parents that I was traveling
from town to town by bus, but the practicality of finances required me to
hitch rides more than I liked.

"Hi. Where you headed?", she asked as I thanked her before slipping into the
car and reaching for the seatbelt.

"I'm heading for Thunder Bay along the Trans-Canada, but I'll be happy with
any distance you can take me."

"Well I'm not going quite that far, but you're a bit in luck. I can get you at
least 80 miles in that direction. I'm Angela Schmidt." And she extended her
hand towards me.

Now I thought it a bit unusual to be shaking hands with a stranger who was
just giving me a ride, though this was my first female chauffeur. It had not
happened with the 10 or 12 men I'd ridden with so far. Her hand was warm and
firm and soft - all normal attributes for a hand, but somehow unexpectedly so.
She didn't shake my hand with the obvious vertical motion. Instead, she simply
clasped my hand firmly, without motion of any sort, and for a length of time
that flustered me and forced me to be the one to terminate the contact. And as
I withdrew my hand, she curled her fingers, with the result that the tips
traced gently across my hand and tickled the palm. The action seemed blatantly
sensual, and it both embarrassed and disturbed me. I wondered about her
intentions.

That handshake awoke me to her sexuality. When first entering the car, I had
thought of the driver as a pleasant, middle-aged, mother-type. Now, within 10
seconds, I was viewing her as a fairly attractive, older woman, with a sturdy,
but decidedly female body; and someone who apparently had designs on my own
body. I became aware that she possessed a mature attractiveness that I
otherwise might not have remarked.

I did not want to have sex with her. If I have a fantasy woman, it is one who
is younger and thinner. And I was still technically a virgin. However, in a
subtle way, that handshake had served notice that she was all woman, and sewn
the idea that she might be interested in a different form of shared ride.
Although the idea of making love to her did not repulse me, I couldn't embrace
the notion either - it would have been too much like being with my mother - or
rather with one of her friends. Nevertheless, from that moment, my view of my
companion was forever altered.

"What's your name?", she inquired after a pause. Her question brought me back
from the reverie into which I'd fallen. I silently reprimanded myself for
forgetting the basics of good manners, and wondered if my thoughts were
transparent.

"Jamie", I said, "Jamie Owens. I just graduated from Carleton University and
I'm taking a few months to travel and see the country before looking for a job
and settling down."

"Wow! That sounds just great. Carleton's in Ottawa. Is that where you're
from?"

"Close. I grew up in Kingston, and that's where my parents live. Technically
that's still my address, though I haven't been there for more than a weekend
at a time for over four years."

"What do your parents think of you hitchhiking all over the country like
this?"

"They think I'm going by bus. But the added cost would shorten my trip by
months, so I don't tell them. They wouldn't be at all happy if they knew."

"Aren't you at all worried? I'd be afraid of meeting some psycho."

"Oh yes. I guess there is a chance. However everyone I've met so far has been
nice, and you take some chances every time you cross the street."

"Do you write home often?"

"No. I'm not the letter writing type. I send E-mails from libraries to friends
occasionally, but my parents aren't wired yet. But I phone them every
Wednesday night regular as clockwork. Collect of course."

"Are they always home when you call? Don't they ever go out? Or do they stay
put just because of you calling?"

"They rarely go out on weekdays. But I phone at supper hour just in case."

"What time is that?"

"6:00pm sharp." I thought it strange that she would be interested in such
trivial details, though I would ascertain the reason quite clearly later.
"What do you do for a living?"

" I worked as a nurse for 12 years, and then was in business for myself for
the last 7. I'm mostly retired now."

"Must have been awfully successful if you can retire this young. What business
were you in?"

"Well I usually just say 'Consulting' when asked that question. I don't
normally describe its true nature. People tend to be judgmental. But we are
strangers, and not likely to cross paths again soon. Promise you won't think
less of me? "

"Sure, but now you've really got my curiosity."

"I went into the escort business."

"What's that?"

"Oh my." she laughed. "You are delightfully naive. An escort is hired, usually
by a male, for a variety of services. It could be, as the name suggests, as an
escort for a social function. Once I went with a bachelor to a business
luncheon where spouses were invited. But in 99 percent of contacts, it's for
sex. However it's not quite like prostitution, as you're probably thinking. I
did give out favors, but I had a rule that although I touched them, my clients
never touched my body. It works well, and is amazingly lucrative."

"You said my hitchhiking was dangerous. Didn't you ever have problems with
perverts?"

"Occasionally, yes. However my clients were usually lawyers or doctors, and
generally quite pleasant. There are jerks among the rich, of course, just as
with any class, but I can handle myself quite well."

2.

The description of my companion's vocation effectively terminated conversation
for the next 10 minutes. We both occasionally made an effort at small talk,
but it never had a chance to progress. Her revelation was just too severe, too
intimate, for me. Our relationship was no longer casual. I was now her
unwilling confidant, and there was nothing she could now say that would match
her past disclosure. As for me, I no doubt lost respect for her, but could at
the same time fantasize her hands on my body, performing these unknown sexual
acts. Until now, I had visualized sex as a mutual affair fully involving both
partners. This sounded more like masturbation without the 'master' part, and
it had a perverted attraction to my young mind; even to the point where I
fantasized testing the waters, and was glad I lacked the money to take
advantage. With minimal funds for survival, there was really no temptation, so
a test of my moral fibre didn't become necessary..

"You have a driver's licence, don't you?", she suddenly said out of the blue.

"Sure. Why?"

"Would you mind terribly driving for the last half hour? I'm late for an
appointment, and I'm tired. I also need my insulin shot which takes about 5
minutes to prepare. The road is smooth, so I could do that while you drive. It
would save time."

"Sure. I like driving. As long as you trust me with your car." But she had
already begun slowing down well before I spoke, and she didn't bother with a
reply.

Mrs Schmidt (I had no idea if she was ever married, but Mrs seemed to fit) got
out of the car and went around to the passenger side while I slid sideways on
the seat. There was no console or gear shift on the floor so that contortions
were unnecessary." And within seconds, we were again on our way.

"How fast do you want me to go?", I asked as she rummaged in the glove
compartment for her medicine.

"Oh, 80 (k/hr) will get me there in plenty of time, but anything you feel
comfortable with."

From the corner of my eye, I observed in fascination as she rolled up her left
sleeve and began to fill the needle with colorless liquid.

"Over on your left there's a beautiful panoramic view of a lake coming up."
she said, and I wondered if the intent was to divert my gaze as she inserted
the needle (That speculation would soon prove to be the case). So I dutifully
shifted my focus and divided my attention more or less equally between the
woods on the left and the road in front.

I do not remember saying 'Ow' or 'Ouch', but I must have one or the other.
However I can recall all other details of the next 10 seconds with clarity.
The first involved involuntarily withdrawing my shoulder from, and shifting my
eyes towards, the source of the pain in my arm. I saw my assailant also
completely focused on the arm. The needle was fully inserted, and she was
engrossed in first preventing my recoiling motion from dislodging the
instrument, and then in slowly depressing the plunger.

The next 5 seconds involved complete disbelief on my part, during which my
antagonist withdrew the needle, flung it casually on the floor, and then
calmly directed her vision towards the roadway in front. Only much later, and
in retrospect, did the true nature of the assault dawn on me. But for those
few seconds, I could only ponder incredulously why she had given me her
insulin.

Then I realized that I was becoming faint and was going to pass out. My foot
sluggishly reached out for the brake, and my last cognizance was of her hands
sharing the wheel with mine, and of my foot coming down on top of hers,
already firmly seated on the peddle.

3.

I awoke behind bars. I was lying on a single bed in a small dark room with
only one dim lightbulb in the corridor just beyond the grate of my cell door.
Something, perhaps the lack of windows, or a hint of mold, suggested that I
was in a basement or underground. My head hurt, I was ravenous, and I had to
use the facilities. I threw back the single blanket covering me, lethargically
swung my leg off the cot and sat up. Someone had stripped me except for my
boxer shorts. I surveyed my surroundings with bewilderment. Where was I and
why?

The room was about 20 feet by 15 with only a simple bed and chair for
furniture. The bathroom was small and compact with a toilet, sink and shower,
and adjoined the main room through a door on the side opposite the bed. That
was where I headed first before exploring my surroundings more thoroughly.

Then I tested the bars on my prison, but they were solid and gave little hope
of escape. I also checked that the iron gate was locked, just in case. Only
the bathroom contained anything of interest. A small cabinet over the sink
held a hairbrush, a razor, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant. There was
also a towel and face cloth, a glass, and a bar of soap on the counter. I
found the light switch just inside the door, and when I switched it on, the
light proved pleasantly intense compared with the gloom of the main room. I
resolved to leave it on continually as the darkness of the main room was
depressing. Should I ever find a book or a magazine, I would need the light in
order to read.

I must have been unconscious for some time, because I was famished. There was
little I could do about that. However I drank two glasses of water, more to
dull the ache of my stomach than from thirst. Then I waited.

Mrs Schmidt appeared outside my cell after what seemed like hours, but was
probably closer to one or two. "Well, the Kraken wakes. How are you feeling?",
she said.

She was dressed in white shorts and a yellow tank top. She was nearly as tall
as I was, about 5' 10", tanned and solidly built. Her legs were long and her
thighs smoothly substantial, thickening not unpleasantly as they rose to where
her muscular buttocks taxed the material of her shorts. She had impressive
pipes for a woman, larger than mine, and not without definition. I hadn't
noticed in the car, because she'd worn a long sleeve shirt. For the first
time, I also noted the swell of her breasts. These were not large, but the
points of the nipples were distinct against the cloth. Apparently she wore no
bra, and if so, her breasts were exceptionally firm for someone her age.

When I'd first met Mrs Schmidt, I'd read her as friendly and matronly. Then
immediately, I'd been forced to recognize her sexuality. Now in her new role
of jailor, she appeared neither friendly nor matronly, and her sexuality had
ceased to be an attraction. Now she loomed before me solid and powerful,
almost burly, and her demeanor seemed malevolent, especially after what she
had put me through. Her prominent nose, her full lips and her strong facial
features had

at first seemed feminine and pleasant, but now only appeared predatory to one
very frightened boy.

"Open this door." I demanded, but my tone sounded weak even to me. "Why are
you doing this?"

"I'll give the orders and ask the questions if you don't mind, young man. Now,
I'd like you to come upstairs for a short training session. I'll need to tie
your arms behind you. Come over here to the bars and turn your back. Right
now."

"No I won't. I'm not doing anything you ask until you release me."

"Have it your own way, Jamie. I'll be back the same time tomorrow to ask you
exactly the same thing. And then again once each day, and just once. You'll be
fed only after you comply."

4.

I was so hungry that the agony seemed unbearable I didn't think I could last
another day, but did find that the ache in my stomach lessened considerably
that afternoon, once my brain accepted the fact that there would be no food
until the next morning. But after 24 hours deprivation of both stimuli and
nourishment, you can imagine that I was much less willing to challenge Mrs
Schmidt's demands. When my tormentor finally reappeared, I stood passively,
almost eagerly, with my back to the bars as she trussed my arms. Reaching
through the bars from the outside of my cell, she wound white tape around one
wrist, and then positioned the arms together, forearm to forearm, securing
them with many wrappings of the tape. Then she unlocked the cell door and came
in after me.

"Jamie, I'm quite strong. I could probably handle you with or without your
hands tied. So I hope you appreciate that bound like this, you could easily be
beaten to a pulp. If you are contemplating defiance, kicking or anything like
that, I would strongly suggest that you control the urge. Now, come along
quietly. You'll be fed after the training session" And with that, she gripped
my elbow, and led me out of the cell. I went along meekly, too cowed to
resist.

We climbed a set of stairs, and turned left into a short corridor. The light
was indirect and feeble, giving the place a gloomy atmosphere. Mrs Schmidt
guided me into a room, dark enough that at first, I could make out only vague
shapes which, as my eyes became more accustomed to the light, took the form of
exercise machines peculiar to a normal weight room. There were no windows, or
at least they were well covered, so that the place had the aura of a dungeon.
She steered me across the room, and although I still couldn't see well, the
floor felt peculiarly thick and padded, as though I were walking on thin
mattresses. Only when we reached the far side of the room did I perceive the
flat, plywood board placed vertically on the floor and a few feet from the
wall. It was vaguely the shape of a human (without the head) and, in the dim
light, I could just make out several holes in it.

"Up against the board, Jamie, face first, and place your toes through those
two holes near the floor.", she ordered.

"No! I cried in panic. This was no exercise machine. I didn't have any idea
what she was up to, but whatever it was, I knew I wouldn't like it."

She reached down somewhere in the darkness, and retrieved an object. I had
barely time to recognize and register the thing as a 'cat-o-nine-tails', a
mean looking whip with several leather strips, when she swung her arm, and
brought it down viciously across my shoulders. I screamed in pain.

"Now, up against the board, Jamie.", she said with a calmness that was
psychotic in nature and terrified me. This time, I hurried to comply.

"Don't move a muscle." she ordered as she attached some form of locking
devices to my ankles that I couldn't see. She then threaded a belt through the
board from the other side, around my waist, and back through the board.
Pulling hard on the belt, she drew my body up tight against the board, and
then fastened the buckle in front of me; but on the far side of the board and
very much out of reach. My chin rested lightly on the top of the board. I was
in a state of absolute terror by this time, but didn't resist as she released
my arms from the tape and re-secured them to the board at the side.

" I am a dominatrix, Jamie. That simply means that I dominate people. I made a
good living for years doing this to men like yourself. And I was exceptionally
good at the job. Most women who dominate only do it for the money, but for me,
it is in my nature. I enjoy this more than anything else I could imagine. The
rush I get having you in my power is narcotic. However I am not a killer and
only mildly sadistic, so you will not be treated badly if you cooperate, and I
give you my word that you will be released in exactly one month, plus any
extra days added whenever you don't cooperate fully. You're certainly not the
first young male that I've entertained here.

"You may wonder how I'm able to kidnap and tyrannize youngsters like yourself
with impunity. Well, the answer lies within the young men themselves. I find
that young gentlemen seem strangely reluctant to go public with stories of
their kidnaping and subjugation by a female. They would rather ignore their
experience and keep their foolish male pride than to seek revenge on their
torturer; and I suspect that, once released, you will also choose to keep our
little affair confidential. However I expect you will learn a lot more about
life here than you would hitchhiking across the country."

" This is your first session, Jamie, so I will explain clearly what is
expected of you. From now on, you will address me only as mistress. In
addition, for this session, you will only speak when asked a question. And you
will only ever answer 'Yes, mistress', never 'No, mistress' or 'Why?' etc. Is
that clear?"

"Yes" I said grudgingly.

Whap. She swung her arm, and brought the whip viciously across my shoulders,
once again.

"What did you say?" she asked, holding the whip back, threatening another
strike.

"Yes mistress" I corrected quickly and shrilly, panicked to satisfy my
tormentor and forestall another hit.

"Good, you appear to be a fast learner. We're going to get along splendidly.
Now, do you see this object?" And she retrieved what I at first took for a
thin piece of wood from a shelf in front of me.

"Yes, mistress."

"This is an antique, Jamie. An elementary school strap. These are no longer
allowed in the classrooms of the nation. And that's a real shame. Teachers
would not have problems with students if discipline was still applied across
the seat of the pants. Fortunately we are not subject to quite the same
regulations as in the education system. Isn't that a good thing, Jamie?"

"Yes, mistress."

"I'm certainly glad that you agree with me. Yesterday, I asked you to come
upstairs and submit to a training session, did I not?"

"Yes, mistress." I could see where this was going, and I didn't like the
direction.

"And you refused, did you not?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Jamie, you will quickly learn that whenever you defy me, there will be
punishment. I feel that five strikes on your bare bottom with this strap would
be a reasonable penalty. Do you agree?"

I could already feel the pain, regardless of my answer. So I chose silence.

"I asked you if you agreed?"

Then when I still didn't answer, she delivered a blow to my back with the whip
that made me cry out in agony once more, and brought tears to my eyes.

"I asked if you agreed. Do you?"

"Yes, mistress." I sobbed, trying to keep from crying.

She immediately grasped my underwear, and pulled it down to my ankles. "You
have a lovely ass, Jamie", she said, taking a step back to better scrutinize
the object in question. "Just perfect for a spanking. And one of these days, I
will take you over my knee because I would find the endeavor most erotic. But
for now, those five caresses from this little strap. It shouldn't hurt much.
Remember that the strap was intended for children and generally they were able
to handle such punishment without fainting or screaming."

I doubt if any teacher ever laid the leather on a child as hard as she did on
me though. She put her entire arm and much enthusiasm into the discipline, and
had me gritting my teeth against the pain. She was right in one sense, though.
The hurt was not nearly as severe as the earlier blows from the whip, perhaps
because it was directed to a meatier part of my anatomy.

"That wasn't so bad, now, was it Jamie? You took it almost like a man. Would
you like five more for not answering your mistress properly the first time?"

"Yes, mistress." I hoped that she would relent with the right answer.

"I agree also. You are a smart young man, and are learning very quickly. Five
more strokes should serve to hard-wire the instruction. Ready?"

"Yes, mistress."

And so I suffered yet another beating at her hand. Perhaps my buttocks had
become numbed, or perhaps she took it easier, but the pain was slightly less
brutal this time. In any case, she rubbed ointment on my injured back and
bottom afterwards, pulled my underwear back up, re-taped my arms behind my
back, and then released me from the board of torture. She then led me back to
my cell, locked me in, and cut the tape from my arms.

"You're a good boy, Jamie." she said. "You took that quite well. I'll be back
with dinner in half an hour. I'm afraid you'll sleep on your stomach for a
while though.

"You'll have to remain in here for a couple days so that I can make a few
adjustments to accommodate my unexpected guest. After that you'll only be in
this cell at night and for a couple of hours each afternoon while I go for my
run and work out in the exercise room. But most of the time you'll eat
upstairs with me and be free to roam the house subject to my restraints."

5.

I remained in my cell, well fed and spared the ravages of my tormentor, but
bored silly. There were no magazines or books and the only relief from the
monotony were the visits from my captor three times daily to deliver meals. It
was almost a relief when she came for me again two days later. This time I
needed no threat of starvation to cooperate fully. I knew better than to
resist, and presented my arms for binding at the first request.

We went to the same room, much better lighted this time. It was quite a large
room with several weight machines and a treadmill lined along one wall, and I
could now see that it was carpeted with what appeared to be gym mats. The
plywood that I had been strapped to was still there, alongside a second wall,
but the only furniture was a single wooden chair.

"Down on your knees, scum" Mrs Schmidt ordered.

"Yes, mistress." I replied, but with no arms for balance, I toppled forward
onto my face as I attempted to sink to my knees. She seemed to think that was
funny. She grabbed the elastic waist band on my boxer shorts, snapped it
lightly against my back.

"Clumsy." she chuckled, and it was the first time I had heard her laugh. While
I was occupied with getting back to my knees, she brought over a thin chain
that was attached to an anchor in the wall, and manacled the free end to one
of my ankles.

"Jamie, I'm now going to release your arms so that we can proceed with your
training. Perhaps the added freedom might make you think you could then fight
back. In the unlikely event that you did defeat me, think what would happen to
someone chained in a house with no way to get free, and no way to get food or
water. It wouldn't be pretty, would it?"

And after a pause. "You can speak freely, your opinions now. As long as you
always show me due respect. You no longer always have to say 'yes'. Do you
think it would be pretty, Jamie?"

"No, mistress."

She quickly cut the tape, and then sat down on the wooden chair. "On hands and
knees, scum. Now, crawl over here to me and lick my feet." Her feet were bare,
but I thought that the least offensive parts were the ankles so I started
there. That's it, Good boy. You are pleasing your mistress. Would you like to
suck on my toes, Jamie?"

"No, mistress."

"That's too bad. No foot fetishes in your family, eh? Unfortunately, I like to
have my toes sucked. Now get busy, and do a good job, or else."

I lifted her foot off the mat, took her big toe about an inch into my mouth
and sucked timidly and with no enthusiasm. Suddenly I felt her body shift, and
then the sudden burning pain across my shoulders, as she reintroduced me to
the pleasures of the whip. I hadn't known that she had it within range. I let
out a cry of pain, and quickly pulled back. Anger seized me and momentarily I
thought of striking out at my assailant.

However Mrs Schmidt made no motion to hit me again and her calm, cold
confidence made me pause long enough that my meager rage quickly succumbed to
common sense and fear. She understood perfectly, and with a bemused smile on
her face, "Sorry, Jamie, but I also believe that discipline is necessary if an
assignment is not being performed to my standards. That foot down there is
temporarily the mouth of the prettiest girl you have ever met. That big toe is
her tongue, and she has just extended it from between full, sensuous lips, and
proffered it as an oral libidinous tribute to your utterly unworthy self. I
anticipate your recognizing the situation and putting the appropriate
enthusiasm into the venture."

The thought of another stroke from that menacing whip dominated all rational
thought, and I completely forgot my initial reluctance in my effort to satisfy
my antagonist.

"Oh yes, that's much better, Jamie. I knew you were a fast learner."

6.

I have never experienced anything like the domination that Mrs Schmidt
inflicted on me. Even as a small child, dependent on my parents, I was not
continually forced to do what I didn't want to do. And then, restraints placed
on me, such as a play pen, were for my safety. Now, at the age of 23, I again
suffered restraints; but now their intent was solely to humiliate.

My subjugation by Mrs Schmidt was the most frustrating thing I had ever
encountered. I was totally helpless. My training sessions were held in the
mornings, and generally involved different forms of groveling at the feet of
my captress. I would be forced to lick her feet, massage her legs and thighs,
or rub her body with lotion - things that entailed some form of touching or
sexual connotation, and therefore of considerable embarrassment for me. Other
activities involved humiliation, such as pushing a peanut around the room with
my nose, giving her a 'horsey ride' on my back, or making sounds of various
animals. However, there was no longer any use of whips or straps as long as I
cooperated fully, and she didn't appear to want actual sex from me as I had
originally feared she might.

After the 3rd day, she began allowing me upstairs (a restraining chain
attached to my ankle, of course) except during her exercise times. After my
morning training session, I was expected to sweep and clean and later prepare
lunch and supper. However in the evenings, we played scrabble, watched
television, read, or just talked. We would also share a couple of rum and
cokes. There was little stress, and the conversation and activities proved
enjoyable. I began to look forward to these nightly sessions with some
eagerness, and they made my stay bearable. However in retrospect I can see
that they also promoted a kind of perverted bonding between the two of us, and
were, intentional or not on her part, a way of lessening my resentment, and an
effective form of brainwash.

7.

On Wednesday of the first week, Mrs Schmidt tied my arms and led me upstairs
an hour or so before supper, as was our normal procedure. This time, however,
she led me into her bedroom, ordered me to lie face down on the bed, and
chained my leg to the bedpost.

"I'm going to tie you to the bed now, Jamie." she said. "That's OK with you?
You do trust me, don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress."

But I didn't trust her, and was more than a little frightened. Perhaps she was
now going to murder me. I'm not a brave person, and the anxiety was more than
I could tolerate. I had to act, and decided to do it as soon as she released
my arms from behind my back.

However she must have read my mind, and gave me no opportunity. She tied my
feet securely to the bedposts with tape, and then slid onto the bed and
straddled my back. She bent forward, placed her mouth and inch from my ear,
and whispered seductively into it.

"You weren't thinking of trying to escape, were you Jamie? Because its never a
good idea to defy your mistress, Jamie. I'm going to release your hands, now,
but I will remind you that the whip is right there on the chair beside the
bed. How many times do you think I could strike you with it before you were
able to turn around and untie both your feet. Or if I were to remain here,
seated so comfortably in the small of your back, and did this....."

Here she suddenly sat back and drove her fist into my ribs so hard that for a
few seconds I couldn't catch my breath to even cry out in pain.

"....do you think you could throw me off before you were beaten black and
blue?"

She then proceeded to cut the tape from my arms, and to bind my wrists to the
head of the bed. Meanwhile I remained passive with fear and with the ache in
my ribs, and allowed myself to be rendered helpless, and totally subject to
the mercy of my persecutor.

8.

"You have been a very good boy, Jamie, and therefore I apologize for hitting
you like that. You certainly didn't deserve it. However it was necessary to
remind you of the pain that I am capable of administering when I am crossed.
Did that hurt very much, Jamie?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Well you have my sincerest sympathy. You've been such a capable student that
it's not been necessary to punish you for almost a week. However it's now
become necessary to remind you of how vicious I can be when required. I
intended five strokes of the whip as a reminder, but that blow to the ribs
might serve instead. What do you think, Jamie."

"I don't think the whip will be required." I said. "I'm genuinely convinced of
your meanness and brutality."

"Why thank you, Jamie. It's so nice to see a young man who appreciates the
attributes of his superiors. Now, it's 6:00pm Wednesday, Jamie, when you
always telephone your parents and let them know that you're OK. Well we both
know that you're not really OK, that you're being subjected to the whimsies of
a beautiful, though slightly depraved, dominatrix. However I'm sure that
neither of us wants to worry Mom and Dad over such a trifle. So you are going
to call them and reassure them of your continued fine health. You will tell
them that you're staying at the 'Y' in downtown Winnipeg for two days and
then, in a couple days, moving on to Medicine Hat by bus. If they ask for the
phone number of the 'Y', you don't know it, but that if it becomes necessary
to contact you, they could find it through information.

"Now let's talk consequences, Jamie. I will use *67 so that the call cannot be
traced. I will also be listening to the conversation on the portable, while I
hold the phone to your ear. Do not instigate any topic, such as asking about
your dog, that I wouldn't know about, and that could possibly send a secret
plea for help - let them guide the conversation. Any non-compliance will
result in ten lashes minimum, and more depending on the severity of your
folly.

"Should you openly reveal your plight and ask for help, remember that neither
your parents nor the police would have any idea of your location. Even you
don't know where you are, do you Jamie? However it would force me to terminate
our relationship prematurely to get rid of the evidence. And the evidence is
you, Jamie. I would, of course, whip you savagely with the frustration of
being thwarted. I doubt that I could stop myself. Then I would be forced to
kill you, an action that I would deeply regret, since I like you a lot.

9.

The reassurance of my parents solidified Mrs Schmidt's hold on me. For at
least seven days, there would be no search for a missing son, and I was
confident that the forced call home would be repeated the next week, and each
week thereafter. However the call was also reassuring. If I was going to be
killed anyway, Mrs Schmidt would have had no need to satisfy my parents as to
my well being.

After the call, nothing out of the ordinary happened for several days. My
training and work continued in the mornings, I remained in my cell in the
afternoon, and I relaxed upstairs with my hostess during and after supper. No
more beatings were necessary, and I had begun counting the days 'til my
promised release, growing more confident as time passed that the worst was
over.

On Monday afternoon, I believe it was, Mrs Schmidt taped my arms and led me
upstairs as usual. She was dressed formally, wearing a white blouse and skirt
rather than her usual shorts and top. Dressed up, she was amazingly attractive
for an older woman. She really looked sexy, and I timidly complimented her on
her wardrobe.

"Keep your thoughts to yourself," she said, although not angrily. I had the
feeling that she was not displeased. "I know exactly how I look, and don't
need insipid comments from a subordinate."

This time, however, we didn't go to the kitchen to begin supper, as we
normally did. Instead, she seized my elbow and steered me into the first room
off the hallway, the one with the padded floor where she had whipped and
strapped me the 2nd day of my imprisonment, and where she conducted my
training each morning. The room was now well lit, but that didn't lessen my
apprehension much. However I was encouraged by the fact that the plywood
board, to which I'd been shackled, was missing. In fact the exercise machines
were also missing, and there was now nothing at all in the room except the
padding on the floor.

"What's going on?" I asked, looking toward my hostess for some explanation.

"I've always loved competitive sports, Jamie. This is the wrestling room, and
I'd like to challenge you to a little friendly tussle. In a moment I'm going
to release your arms so that we will be on equal footing. If I win, you remain
here as my submissive for the last two and a half weeks. But if you win, I'll
set you free and personally drive you the rest of the way to Winnipeg."

She moved to the door and swung it closed. There was an very audible click.
"The door is locked, Jamie, and can only be opened by combination. That is
only to insure my health should you beat me. But let's make it a little more
interesting. The winner can do whatever they wish to, or with, the loser,
short of physically injuring them. And, should I lose, I might find it
titillating to be on the other end, and to be dominated by a good looking and
athletic young man, and perhaps forced to do strange and exotic things.
Wrestling should be fun, don't you think?" Her question was accompanied by a
Mona Lisa type smile, as she slowly began to unbutton her blouse.

10.

Her wrestling garb was provocative to say the least. She wore a short thin
beige tank top that left her stomach bare, with no bra, so that her nipples
protruded provocatively, and a matching pair of short shorts that had a
decorative seam of rivets up both sides. The shorts were snug on her muscular
thighs, and tight and smooth against her compact derriere. Her sleeveless top
revealed and accentuated respectably sized arms but terminated short of
covering her flat, solid abdomen. She had to be close to my weight, and her
confident manner and her occasional verbal boasting over the last few days'
was proof enough for me that she was muscular and not simply plump. In fact
she looked formidable.

I, of course, was dressed in my usual pair of boxer shorts.

The idea of wrestling a female had its attraction, and I'd begun to get an
erection while Mrs Schmidt had been removing her blouse and skirt. Just the
idea of skin on skin contact had a sensual connotation, but the thought that I
could possibly be physically beaten by a woman was erotic and deliciously
frustrating and yet unacceptable to my youthful male pride. For the latter
consideration alone I wanted to defeat my opponent, and the chance to win
freedom was secondary. I wasn't mentally prepared for a fight, and I'd spent
nearly two weeks being submissive. Now I reminded myself that I had to be
aggressive and I wasn't even certain that I knew how any longer.

She came at me quickly in a wrestler's crouch. Instinctively our arms came up,
intertwined, and locked together, hands on each other's triceps. Then began a
contest in which we worked at throwing each other off balance. She was strong,
but not that strong. I guess I'd expected her to be invincible, a super
Amazon, and it came as a surprise that I could match her. Our little test of
strength gave me time to remember to be aggressive, so I suddenly released her
arms, ducked under them and wrapped my arms around her waist. My second
surprise was the success of my manoeuver and that I was quicker than she was.
However throwing her to the mat didn't prove to be so easy, and she was able
to keep her balance. I was bent over, and her forearm was suddenly across my
throat and my head squeezed in a painful headlock. Eventually I took her down
by wrapping my leg around hers and tripping her. She twisted as we fell so
that I didn't wind up on top as planned. Instead we landed side by side facing
each other, arms and legs entwined and struggling mightily for position. Then
we were on our knees and then back onto our feet. Already I was breathing
hard.

This time we circled for a few moments until I again made the first move. I
dove for her legs, but she straightened them and sprawled over me in a classic
defense. It was obvious that she had some knowledge of wrestling. I was left
in an awkward position on my knees with my opponent draped over my back. I
tried to get to my feet, but her arms were tight around my waist and her full
weight was being used to keep me down. I couldn't regain my feet directly as I
would have had to lift both our weights, so I was forced to attempt escape by
slithering out to the side.

Suddenly, as I was about to escape (or so I thought) she grabbed my shorts
around the waist and shoved them down to my knees. I tried to reach down to
pull them back up, but her arms wrapped around mine and stopped me. Then,
while I was distracted worrying about the shorts, her legs clamped tightly
around my head and I was suddenly trapped in a hold that I couldn't get out
of.

"Pull up those boxers" she laughed, knowing full well that I was trying to,
"All I can see is your bare tush."

Suddenly she lifted her body as high as possible and drove her full weight
down onto my back. I wasn't prepared and she flattened me painfully into the
mat, knocking the wind out of me. She released her hold but stayed on my back
and wriggled further down towards my legs where she grabbed my shorts and
forced them all the way down to my ankles. I was still prone and trying to
catch my breath and had no idea what she was up to. She must have twisted one
leg of the boxers and somehow looped it over the other ankle, because I
suddenly felt my two legs clamped firmly together as surely as if they had
been tied with rope.

I managed to roll onto my back, but that didn't improve my position. My
tormentor stayed with me and wound up on top. Getting her off proved
difficult, as my legs were now restricted and she flattened her bulk against
my chest and worked at using her weight to keep me in place. I am somewhat
athletic, but was forced to arch my back, push with arms and legs, and
struggle furiously to get out from under her. It wasn't easy, and the exertion
was tiring. I remembered from phys-ed class in high school just how exhausting
wrestling can be. And I was totally out of shape, not having run or played
sports in months, while my opponent worked out for two hours every day.

I did manage to get her off me, but by the time I did, I was spent. My arms
felt like jelly and I couldn't imagine how I would summon up energy to
continue to fight. My only chance was to get on top and hold her down while I
recuperated. So I clung tightly to my opponent and using my last reserves,
rolled her over. But my opponent simply continued the roll, and I didn't have
the strength left to stop her. I was on top for all of one or two seconds as
we went through the rotation. When the motion subsided, there was one
exhausted and frustrated male on the bottom, and one smirking and triumphant
female on top.

I had no energy left as she straddled my body. Seizing my wrists, she held
them firmly against the mat on either side of my head, and glared down on me
from above.

"Alright, I give up." I said, as though I had a choice.

"Well the rules were simple, Jamie. It looks like you'll finish out the month
with me. You got your freedom only if you won. And the winner gets to do
whatever she wants with the loser, remember. What do you think I should do
with you, Jamie?"

I was too tired to play games, but now that I had seized struggling, I became
all too aware of my nakedness, and of the proximity of my sexual organs to
hers. Suddenly I was overcome with humiliation. But that was nothing to what I
experienced next when I realized that I was becoming erect. I was petrified
that she would feel my hardness against her rear and punish me for my
perversion. Worse, she might simply laugh at and ridicule my pathetic arousal.
And there was little chance to keep her from discovering my shame.

But she already knew. She released my right wrist and reached back to take
hold of my erection. "What's this, Jamie? Looks like you've decided for me. I
guess you like being dominated, eh? You must want to be raped, so I suppose
I'd better accommodate you."

Sexually, I was a relative innocent, and her glib announcement shocked me. I
guess my religious upbringing had implanted the idea of sex as somewhat evil.
In any case, the thought of being forced was not at all attractive to me. But
this was no delicate young female. She was solid and strong and very much in
control of my body. In the past, she had appeared sexy to me, with her long
smooth limbs, her blonde hair and tanned skin, her thick muscular torso, and
her strong Germanic features. But now she hovered over me, predatory and
rapacious, and I panicked. Flailing away desperately without plan or thought,
I struggled futilely to get out from under her smothering bulk. But she held
me down easily, keeping my wrists firmly pinned to the mat until I once again
lay still, spent and exhausted.

"It's so much more fun when you fight, Jamie. But you're going to be raped no
matter what you do, so you might just as well relax and enjoy the ride. " Then
she reached back, discovered that my penis had lost its strength as I fought,
and gently massaged it back to health.

11.

I couldn't move. I tried bucking her off once again, but my captress was no
lightweight and it was hopeless. The more I struggled, the weaker I got. As
soon as I quit struggling, she released my wrists, and slowly, seductively
removed her tank top, flinging it to the side. Her breasts were not huge, but
were ample enough, and firm as a 20-year old's. The nipples, surrounded by
large purplish aureola, were spectacular. They were dark, dark red, and
protruded at least an inch, exposing the state of arousal of my tormentor.
Firm and rubbery, they looked like nubile tire studs. Those breasts dominated
my universe, the embodiment of raw female power, and left me feeling helpless
and vulnerable.

"Like them Jamie?" she cooed, leaning forward and rubbing them against my
chest.

I felt myself becoming so hard that it was almost painful. Even if my mind was
resisting the rape, my body was in full cooperation mode.

There was no problem removing her shorts as the decorative rivets along each
side turned out to be snaps that quickly popped opened with a gentle tug.
Beneath the shorts, she wore no underwear which might have impeded her assault
and would have provided my last source of defense.

My legs were still held together at the ankles by the twisted pair of shorts.
But now she wound her legs around mine and tightened them powerfully,
completely immobilizing my weaker pair.

"Ow. You're hurting me." I cried out. Her legs were squeezing my thighs
together and crushing my scrotum.

"Love is always a little painful, Jamie. But it's necessary to make sure you
don't flop around too much and spoil my fun."

She seized my rock-hard sex and ruthlessly bent it down, eliciting a shriek of
protest from her hapless victim. Then she forced the tip into her sexual
fissure.

Placing both hands on my shoulders, she began moving her body gently up and
down against mine, gradually impaling herself further onto my staff. With
maximum penetration achieved, her thrusts intensified so that our bodies began
sliding back and forth on the pad beneath us. My position was far from
comfortable with her full weight bearing down on mine and the skin on my back
rubbing painfully against the mat.

Nor was my rape a quiet procedure. My abuser moaned and swore with each push
and shove as she rammed herself upon my helpless form. "Ahhhh.....
Ummm....Yesss.. Shit!! That's feels good.,eh Jamie?.. Uhhh.... Christ!!"

It was like being ravaged by a maniac, like I wasn't there. My participation
was not required. She was a Roman goddess, violating a worthless mortal. Her
pleasure was derived through domination, and I could have been a corpse for
all she cared. And I was far from comfortable - her thighs gripped me so
fiercely that my legs were aching and my back was becoming raw and sore.
Nevertheless, pleasure quickly began to barrage and then to overwhelm my body.
Her sex gripped me like a fist, caressing and squeezing and fondling. And the
skin on skin contact, so unfamiliar to me, was hot, sweaty and electric. I
began losing myself in rapture. Discomfort of back and legs were swiftly
forgotten. My eyes closed, my head lolled, my breathing quickened as I
involuntarily surrendered to my captor and focused on base animal
gratification. Had god given me an option of escape just then, my soul would
have been forever lost.

Suddenly her mouth was on my lips, her breath sweet, and her tongue thick and
demanding. Surrender was quick and unconditional, my conquest complete. The
moist, rubbery, invader penetrated my defenses, slithering deliciously between
my teeth, where it was greeted as a liberating army and sucked greedily with
fervor and lust.

I was far from an experienced lover. In fact this was my first time with a
woman. I came quickly and violently, mewing and whimpering involuntarily with
the unfamiliar rapture. The pleasure was agonizing and intense. I could have
expired from excruciating bliss. My partner, on the other hand, continued to
ravish my body for 2 or 3 minutes, and sated as I was, I became a fascinated
spectator to her carnal rutting. By then she was fast approaching orgasm, and
her breath was coming in short gasps. Her moans and groans, fierce and
aggressive in contrast to my ineffectual whimpering, intensified as she
approached climax. Her hips ground fiercely into my sex, her body stiffened,
her nails clawed my shoulders, tremors raked her torso, and a squeal of
rapture worked its way from her lungs.

Mrs Schmidt's body gradually relaxed, and as her form went limp, her apparent
weight on top of me doubled and became quite uncomfortable. She had spent a
lot more energy on coitus than I had and was exhausted. Her head nestled
against my shoulder and her hair tickled the side of my face. She didn't move
for some minutes.

Then she lifted her head, smiled down upon her recent conquest, and began
gently running her lips over mine. "You kind of got into the spirit once we
got started, didn't you Jamie? And you performed pretty well for being a
novice. I find it so much more interesting when men have to be forced. Now
you'll have to stay with me a little longer, since you got your ass kicked in
the wrestling. Of course I might require a repeat or two of this afternoon's
exercise?. Would you like that Jamie?"

"Yes mistress." But this time, my response was not solely through fear.
Domination by this physical Amazon suddenly seemed rather desirable, and two
weeks more of this treatment not such an appalling fate.

11.

That was the end of my cross Canada tour, and of my effort to see my country
before settling down to look for a job. In fact it was also the end of my
looking for a job at all.

Had anyone told me that three months after leaving college, I would become the
concubine of a female twice my age, I wouldn't have believed them. And if I'd
been told that I would be a sexual slave of, and physically submissive to such
a woman, I'd have been certain that at least one of us was crazy.

However for the next few weeks, I was wined and dined and generally sexually
abused. At least twice a day, and sometimes thrice, I was taught (or forced to
perform) methods of lovemaking most of which I had never imagined possible. I
discovered the joys of mild sado- masochistic sex and of oral sex, and also
learned a lot more than I wanted to about vibrators, dildos, and restraints. I
guess I should have been repulsed, but the physical gratification was too
pleasant to withstand. So when the time came for my release, and Mrs Schmidt
gave me the option of remaining with her, I was hooked - either too much in
love with her, or too much in love with what she did to me. The understanding
was that when I stayed, I would be given my physical freedom, but that Mrs
Schmidt would maintain her dominance in all matters. Essentially I sold
myself, giving up all pretext to independence in exchange for wanton
libidinous pursuits.

And her dominance turned out to be real, physically as well as
psychologically. Though I would have willingly surrendered her power, it
wasn't entirely necessary. She proved quite capable of seizing it with or
without my cooperation. She was solid and strong, but lithe and agile enough
and somewhat of a connoisseur of wrestling holds. We would usually wrestle,
prior to lovemaking. And to my shock, time and time again, I would find that
my consort could hold me off until I tired, and then wrap me in some
inescapable hold 'til I begged for mercy. As a cocksure young male, I had
always been confident in my strength and virility, so I didn't like being
beaten. Nevertheless it proved deliciously frustrating and erotic to be
physically dominated by a woman. She would usually get the best of me and then
we would make love. And one time, she finished me off with a hammer lock,
dragged my exhausted body to a chair, put me over her knee, wound one massive
thigh around my leg to secure it, and then gave me the spanking she had
promised the first day of my captivity - all in spite of my best efforts and
quite against my will.

Epilogue

My domination by this woman has been swift and thorough. I have now been her
virtual slave for 4 glorious months. I do not know how long my subjugation
will last, but it is no longer forced. Now it is with the full cooperation of
an infatuated fool. I have grown to love being a submissive, and doubt that
sex will ever be satisfactory for me again in its absence. At the moment, I
appear to be pleasing my mistress. However she has mentioned others she had
similarly entertained, and where are they now? This can't last forever, and I
know that one day she will tire of me and toss me out. I dread the thought,
because I know it will break my heart. All I can do is to strive my utmost to
please her, and to hope that she will overlook my deficiencies for a long time
into the future.