The Assignment
Mick Sloane
A male model finds that a lucrative new job is not what he imagined


	
	"Five thousand dollars?" Mark said into the phone excitedly.  
	"To model nude for a bunch of women for one evening?  Are you 
sure?"
	"Yeah," his agent, the lovely Katie, said to him over the phone.  
"It's like a one-evening art seminar or something, and they're looking 
for a handsome guy who's willing to take his clothes off."
	"Five thousand dollars?" Mark asked again, incredulously.
	"Yeah, sweetie, for four hours of sitting around without any 
clothes on."  He heard her laugh into the phone.  "You can handle that, 
can't you hon?"
	Mark laughed, too, saying "You bet your cute little ass I can, 
Katie.  Thanks for thinking of me.  Just tell me where and when."
	"Well," Katie returned, "the when is tomorrow.  Somebody 
else backed out, apparently.  Can you make it?"
	"Hell, yes," Mark said quickly, already thinking of ways to 
spend the five thousand dollars he would earn in one night.  "Where 
do I show up?  What time?  Who do I ask for?"
	Katie gave him the rest of the details, and he thanked her 
again, and hung up the phone.  Mark was a very good looking man, 
with a handsome face, short blond hair, and a trim, tanned, muscular 
body.  After his conversation with Katie, he fixed himself dinner, and 
went to bed early, his dreams filled with dollar signs.
	Mark awoke the next morning, and went to the gym, as he did 
every day.  He had a photo shoot during the day, modeling casual wear 
for a local department store's direct mail ad.  It paid fine, but not five 
thousand dollars.  After the shoot, he showered for the second time 
that day and dressed in a handsome suit.  He made sure to wear 
attractive boxer shorts, and a fresh white tee shirt, as he did not know 
in what various stages of undress he would be required to model that 
evening.  He also brought a robe with him, just in case, and he left for 
his five thousand dollar modeling assignment, allowing plenty of time, 
wanting to arrive early.
	The place where he was supposed to go was actually some 
woman's house.  Apparently, she taught art classes for other women 
out of her home.  Her name was Pamela something.  Katie had not 
given him Pamela's last name.  He didn't really care, either, as long as 
her check was good.
	The house was in a nice part of town, on a fairly secluded lot.  
It was a big house, and was well maintained.  He parked on the street, 
as Katie had instructed, and knocked on the door.  After a moment, a 
beautiful woman answered the door.  She had long, blond hair, blue 
eyes, a soft and lovely feminine face.  She had a skinny waist, with a 
tight, firm body, fantastic, round breasts, a shapely, tight butt, and 
luscious, long legs.  She wore a red tank top, which exposed a 
considerable amount of cleavage, and skin-tight, black exercise shorts, 
which hugged her hips, thighs and buttocks.
	She smiled, extending her hand.  "I'm Pamela," she said.  "Are 
you Mark?" she asked, motioning for him to come into the house.
	He returned her smile, nodding.  "Yes.  I'm the model."
	She eyed him carefully, smiling shyly, taking him in, from 
head to toe.  "Well, you certainly are handsome," she said, looking 
into his eyes.
	Mark blushed, and said "Thank you.  So you teach classes out 
of your home?" he asked.
	She smiled, saying "Yes.  Can I offer you something to drink?  
A soda, or perhaps a beer?"
	"Thank you," Mark said, "a beer would be great."  Pamela 
smiled, walking off to the kitchen to get his beer.  He watched 
carefully as she walked away, her magnificent legs and tight little butt 
were nothing short of hypnotic.
	"So how long have you been doing this?  Teaching classes, I 
mean," Mark asked, raising his voice so that she would hear him in the 
kitchen.
	"Oh," she said.  "Only a couple years."
	Mark strolled around the living room, admiring the stylish 
décor.  No question that this was a single woman's home.  "How many 
students in your class today?" he asked.
	"Oh, perhaps six or eight," Pamela said from the kitchen.
	"What kind of art is it that you teach?" Mark asked, not 
hearing Pamela silently enter the room behind him.  "Is it painting, or 
drawing, or sculpture?"
	Pamela stood behind him now, and she brought the beer bottle 
down sharply on the back of Mark's neck.  He crumpled to the ground 
immediately, unconscious before he hit the floor.  Pamela stood over 
him, looking down at him coldly as he lay on the floor, opening the 
chilled bottle of beer with which she had just hit him, taking a sip.  
"You ask too many questions, dear," she said, looking at her watch.
	Mark awoke as someone slapped him lightly on the cheek.  He 
shook his head, disoriented, trying to clear his thoughts.  Pamela stood 
over him, looking down at him curiously.  It was she who had 
awakened him.  He tried to move, but realized that he was sitting in a 
straight-backed chair, his wrists tied firmly to the arms of the chair, his 
ankles bound to the its legs.  He tried to pull his appendages free, but 
they were tightly secured.  Mark tried to say something, but realized 
that his mouth had been gagged, a bandanna tied tightly around his 
head, between his teeth.  He noted that he had been stripped down to 
his tee-shirt and boxers.
	Pamela smiled sweetly at his efforts to free himself, to speak, 
and stepped back from him.  He could see now that he was in a large 
room, in what appeared to be the basement of her home.  Mark's chair 
was in the front of the room.  He turned his head from side to side, 
noting that he sat in a row with two other men, both of whom appeared 
handsome enough to be models, each in their underwear, tied to chairs 
and gagged as he was.  Both were sitting to his right, and both were 
already awake, looking around the room, confused, as he was. 
	In front of the three of them, on the floor in the basement, were 
large, padded mats, like those used in gymnastics.  Beyond the mats 
were a semicircle of chairs, occupied by six pretty young women.  The 
women were all dressed skimpily, in either tight workout clothing, 
bikinis, or negligée.   They sat talking to one another, watching 
Pamela as she woke the men.  They did not sit at tables, and did not 
have any art-related materials in front of them, which one would 
expect to see in an art class.  No paints, no charcoal pencils, no clay, 
no nothing.  Mark wondered what in the hell he had gotten himself 
into.  He wanted to ask, but his mouth was gagged.
	As his head cleared, as he looked at each of the lovely young 
women sitting across from him, he noticed that one of them was his 
agent, Katie.  His eyebrows raised in surprise, and he looked at her 
questioningly.  She returned his gaze, somewhat coldly, and shrugged 
her shoulders, as if to say, "Oh well.  You win some, you lose some."  
She continued to watch him, her expression chilly, her eyes slightly 
hungry, as she chatted and giggled with the other women.  
	Pamela walked in front of the men, standing on the exercise 
mats, facing the semicircle of young women.  The men looked at one 
another questioningly, shrugging their shoulders, shaking their heads, 
none having any idea what was happening.  Pamela stood with her 
back to them, so that they could see her lovely, bare shoulders, her 
long, blond hair which fell to the middle of her back, her firm, round 
buttocks, covered by snug, black exercise shorts, and her long, 
muscular, shapely legs.
	"Good evening, ladies," Pamela said.  "Thanks so much for 
coming tonight, and for enrolling in our class."  The women fell silent, 
as they watched Pamela, listened to her speak.  "I know that you have 
each paid a great deal of money to be here this evening, to take my 
class.  Rest assured that it will be the best money you ever spend," she 
paused, smiling as the women laughed knowingly.  "I guarantee it."
	"You have all been referred by former students.  That's the 
only way you can get into this class.  You are all beautiful, young 
women, in excellent physical condition.  You will be surprised at how 
easily, with a little instruction, you can physically, emotionally, 
sexually dominate men considerably larger than yourselves."  The men 
turned their heads to look at each other in surprise and confusion, and 
the women giggled, looking at one another excitedly.  Pamela turned 
to look at the men briefly, smiling herself, turning back to address her 
students.
	"I'm sure you can easily imagine how being able to dominate 
the men in your lives could profoundly change many of your 
relationships for the better.  Think how nice it might be to seize 
control, power, in your relationships with dates, boyfriends, spouses, 
and other men.  And if you have the power, you can choose what to do 
with it," she said, pausing, looking at each of the women.
	"Some of you may just enjoy beating and humiliating men, 
hurting them, making them scream and cry and beg.  Some of you 
might like making them do exactly what you want them to do sexually.  
Others might wish to enjoy complete and total control in a lasting 
relationship, training your boyfriend or husband to be your 
subordinate, your slave."
	She paused again, looking around at the women's enthusiastic 
faces, letting her words sink in.  Mark couldn't believe what he was 
hearing.  "All of those things are completely possible," she continued.  
"They have been possible for each of you long before today, but now 
you will learn how to make them happen.  You each have more power 
than you have ever imagined.  You are completely capable of 
dominating men larger, seemingly physically stronger than you, and 
often quite easily.  You each have physical, sexual, mental, emotional 
power that is stronger than you have ever imagined, power that, in 
totality is much stronger than that of most men."
	"And the wonderful thing about it," she continued, looking 
behind her at the bound and gagged men for a moment, "is that men 
don't expect you to be able to overpower them.  That makes them easy 
targets, and it makes their defeat all the more humiliating for them.  
We are women.  They assume us to be the weaker sex, because we are 
generally smaller in stature, because we are more emotional, because 
we have babies, for so many reasons."
	Pamela smiled warmly at her students.  "The truth is, when you 
consider the total package, we are stronger, not them.  Particularly 
women like yourselves, and like me.  You are young, and in great 
shape, which contributes to your physical superiority.  You are 
gorgeous, every one of you," she smiled as the women all blushed.  
"That gives you a tremendous edge, a sexual power strong enough to 
decimate most men.  Wait, you'll see," she continued as the women 
whispered to one another.  "Wait until the first time you beat a man 
brutally, dominate him physically, humiliate him totally, and he stays 
hard for you throughout all of it."  She paused as the women laughed 
nervously.
	"I know," she said, smiling patiently.  "It's strange to talk 
about these kinds of things in a group setting, but think about it.  Think 
about how much that adds to your power over them, contributes to 
their total humiliation.  To be treated so, by a pretty little woman, and 
not to have enough control over his own body to stop himself from 
having an erection for her, from keeping an erection for her 
throughout, as she beats him, humiliates him.  And invariably, that's 
exactly what happens."  Again, she paused for emphasis.  "Now that's 
power, ladies."
	"Now I'm sure you are all anxious to get started," she said.  
"This is an interactive class, so you'll all have the opportunity to try 
out some of what we talk about, if you want to."  She turned to face 
the men, tied, gagged in their chairs.  "As you can see, we have three 
handsome, unwilling participants for tonight's class."  She smiled as 
the women laughed.  "Well, our class is just like real life, in that sense.  
None of them are willing participants, at least not at first, not until you 
dominate them so totally that, by the time you finish, their highest 
aspiration is to honor your every wish, your every desire.  That's what 
we will be doing to these guys," she said, smiling, looking into each of 
the three men's eyes.
	"There are really three parts to this process, when you think 
about it," Pamela said to her class.  "The first is simply taking control, 
cutting them down to size so that you can have your way with them.  
The second is dominating them, humiliating them.  That is my favorite 
part, and most of my students agree.  You can do whatever you want to 
then, and there are all kinds of creative ways to hurt and humiliate a 
man," she paused, smiling nastily as the women laughed and cheered.
	"In many cases, you may not ever get past the second part.  
Your whole objective may be to dominate and humiliate.  For some 
women, that is always the objective, and after that point, once she has 
beaten and humiliated him, the fun is over.  If that's what you want, 
that's great.  There are no rules.  You're putting yourselves in charge, 
so you make the rules."
	"The third part, though," she continued, "is transforming them 
into what you want them to be.  Teaching them exactly what you want 
from them, and disciplining them until they give you exactly what you 
want.  We'll get into that a little, but I usually spend most of my time 
with students on the first two parts.  By the time you get to the third 
part with your man, if you even want to, you'll know what to do.  It's 
such an individual thing, too.  How you want to train your man, what 
you want to train him to do, is a very personal thing, but you will find 
that it will come very easily to you.  I do teach a one-on-one class on 
that, if any of you are interested, that I'll talk about more later. "  
	"You'll see," she said, smiling wickedly, stealing a glance at 
the men, "once you feel the initial rush of power, feel it pulsating 
through you, you'll become very good at this, very quickly.  It 
becomes instinctual, almost as if it were innate, natural.  That's why," 
she said, "we are the stronger sex, not the weaker one.  We all have 
that instinct, to be dominant, predatory.  It only needs to be awakened, 
nurtured.  Men have no such instinct, that I'm aware of, just delusions 
of grandeur.  Poor things," she said, smiling as her students laughed, 
looking at the men bound and gagged at the front of the room.
	Mark couldn't believe what he was hearing.  What on earth had 
he gotten himself into?  Exactly what had Katie suckered him into?  
He glared at her angrily.  She returned his stare, with a smile on her 
lips, but a cold, confident look in her eyes.  Mark shook his head in 
disgust.  He had trusted her, and she was clearly out of her mind.  All 
of these women were.  They were beautiful, though.  One was more 
gorgeous than the next.
	"Well, let's get started," Pamela said, walking over to the man 
all the way to the left, standing to the side of his chair.  "Again, the 
first part is simply taking control.  It's the shortest part, and it's the 
hardest part, because it is at this point that the man still has his 
strength, his faculties, such that they are, and is still under the 
impression that he is stronger," she said, petting the man on the head 
as he looked up at her angrily, struggling to break his wrists free.  "It's 
important to remember, during this part, that we are women, that we 
should fight like women.  We are not little girls.  We are not shy, or 
weak.  Nor are we men, arrogant, slow, foolish," she said, looking 
down at the man she stood beside coldly.
	"Do not fight like little girls.  The men you will be up against 
will want to treat you like little girls.  Let them.  Use it to your 
advantage.  You have not asked them to go easy on you.  If they want 
to anyway, if they are afraid of hurting you, then great.  Don't be 
afraid of hurting them, though.  If you want to kick them in the balls, 
then kick them in the balls.  That's fighting like a woman.  It isn't your 
fault they have testicles.  You didn't give them balls.  God did, and she 
knew what she was doing."  Pamela smiled as the women laughed.  
"It's part of being a man, and so damn it, maybe it is part of what 
makes them weak, vulnerable.  Women have to have periods.  Women 
have to have babies," she said as the class laughed.  "So what, men 
have to have testicles.  Not our fault.  Kick them all you want.  Do not 
fight like little girls.  Okay?"  The women nodded, smiling.
	 "And for God's sake, do not fight like men.  The last thing in 
the world you want to do is stand their punching each other in the 
head," she said, causing the women to burst out laughing.  "Well, 
that's how they fight, isn't it?" she asked, smiling.  "That's what they 
do, right?  Stand toe to toe, hitting each other in the head.  Stupid 
macho crap, that's what it is.  Have you ever seen a man after a fight?  
Even a fight that he won?  He looks like hell," she said, pausing as the 
women again burst into a fit of laughter.
	"Part of this domination experience will be sexual in most 
cases.  You want him to have a hard-on for you the whole time you 
beat and humiliate him.  He isn't going to find you that attractive if 
your face is covered with welts and bruises.  And likewise, you don't 
want to muss his pretty face at the very start, before you've even had a 
chance to play with him.  If he tries to hit you in the face, dodge it, or 
block it.  You are almost guaranteed to be faster than he is, especially 
since it will have been you who planned all of this in the first place.  It 
will be a surprise to him.  That won't be the case tonight, because our 
men know what to expect, but it will be true in most situations.  If you 
need to hit him in the head, if you want to hit him in the head, fine.  
Just fight smart, fight like women.  Don't stand toe to toe trading 
blows like an idiot."
	"Remember the objective of this part," she said, walking 
around behind the first man, standing behind his chair as he turned his 
head to look back at her.  "The objective is to take control and to get 
to the next part.  You want to take over quickly, and decisively.  If you 
do it quickly, then it's all the more humiliating for him, because you 
didn't have any trouble with him.  Plus, the faster you take control, the 
less of your energy that process will require.  And you want to do it 
decisively, because you want to be in control at the end of the first 
part, and you don't want to give up control ever again after that point.  
You have to weaken him, make him vulnerable.  It's really that 
simple."
	"I'll show you what I mean," she said, smiling, removing the 
first man's gag.  "Class, this is Phil.  He'll be our first subject."  The 
women clapped and cheered.
	The man began speaking immediately, in a loud, irate voice.  "I 
don't know what in the hell is going on here, but you women are out 
of your freaking minds.  Now, if you're smart, you'll untie me and 
these other guys before someone gets hurt," he said, glaring up at 
Pamela.
	Pamela smiled back at him confidently, and looked up at her 
students as she answered, saying "Well, I am going to untie you, 
sweetie, but someone's still going to get hurt."  Her students laughed 
and clapped as she leaned over to untie first his ankles, and then his 
wrists, stepping back quickly when she was through.
	He stood up, facing her, staring at her.  "Now untie the rest of 
them," he said sternly.
	"You had better worry about yourself," Pamela told him, 
facing him, her back to her students.
	He started to say something else, but Pamela took a small, 
quick step forward, and landed a solid punch to his stomach with her 
right hand, smiling at the surprise on his face as she quickly landed a 
second punch to the same place with her left.  He grunted, surprised, 
clearly winded.
	Phil took a quick, angry punch at Pamela's head, which she 
ducked below, landing another powerful blow to his stomach, then 
stepping back from him.  He gasped for breath, watching her carefully, 
and then he charged her, angrily, trying to tackle her, his arms 
outstretched.  Pamela sidestepped him nimbly, and as he turned back 
around to face her, she caught him in the head with her foot, dropping 
him to the floor.  She smiled as the women in the class cheered wildly.
	As he began to get up, she moved around behind him, and 
wrapped her arm tightly around his head, pulling his face against the 
side of her breast, squeezing his head powerfully with her arm.  She 
turned halfway around, holding his head, pulling his legs out from 
under him, now facing her students as they cheered her on.
	Phil tried to use his hands and his arms to break free, but one 
arm was behind her back, and he could not bring it around, because 
she held him too close.  His body was in between Pamela and his other 
arm, so he could not do anything with that one, either.  She held his 
head tightly, holding him up by it, not letting him get his feet under 
him, as he struggled angrily.  She flexed her arm against his head, 
crushing it against her body until he began to vocalize his pain.
	She brought her other arm around, using it to increase the 
pressure of her hold as he grunted in pain, slowly lowering herself to 
her knees, and lowering him to a sitting position.  When she was on 
her knees, he was sitting down at her side, his legs straight out in front 
of him.  Pamela lifted her right knee up off of the ground, extending 
her leg straight, over his body, across his lap.  She released his head 
and quickly turned her body, so that she was straddling him, sitting on 
his lap.
	He tried to strike her with his hand, now that his head was free, 
but she caught his arm by the wrist, and quickly grabbed his other 
wrist with her opposite hand.  She positioned her hands so that her 
forefingers were bent, with the knuckles flush against his wrists, and 
she began digging her knuckles into his wrists, repositioning them 
slightly until she saw the pain on his face, and then she focused on 
forcing her knuckles into his wrists as he voiced his pain and struggled 
to shake his hands free, as she straddled his lap, looking into his eyes.
	"It's often good to immobilize their hands, or their arms, to 
render them useless for a while.  It makes the man considerably easier 
to handle," she said to her class, looking directly into Phil's face as she 
dug her knuckles into his wrists, as he tried desperately to pull his 
hands free.  "Some women like to tie them, or cuff them, which is 
often very effective.  Other women like to break their bones.  You 
know, break one or both arms, or a few fingers on their hands.  That's 
great too, if your sole purpose is to brutalize and humiliate them.  If 
you're going to want them to be well enough to serve you later, 
though, it may be smart to do something less lasting, so they aren't 
damaged."
	She continued to dig her knuckles into Phil's wrists, pressing 
them in deeper and deeper, and he began screaming from the pain.  
"The same is true for the legs.  Though I find that if you do the hands 
or arms, you can usually control them well enough without bothering 
with their legs or feet.  Whether it's the arms or the legs, though, I like 
to use pressure points," she continued, digging her knuckles deeper 
into his wrists, causing him to scream again as the women watched 
attentively.
	"There are points all over the body, points where nerves or 
muscle tissue are particularly vulnerable.  With a little practice, you 
can easily find these points and apply pressure, causing unspeakable 
pain, as well as some temporary loss of mobility," she said, looking 
into Phil's eyes as she tortured his wrists, as he screamed and tried to 
break free.  "You can see by the expressions on their faces whether 
you're hurting them in the right place or not, because if you are doing 
it correctly, the pain is excruciating.  You can even practice on 
yourselves."
	"Look at his hands.  You see how his struggles are slowly 
diminishing?" she asked her class, and the women nodded.  She pulled 
his wrists together with her hands, and then crossed them, in front of 
her, and began pushing him backwards, simultaneously crushing his 
wrists with her knuckles.  He struggled, but had no leverage, as she sat 
on his lap, holding his wrists, and she forced him backward, onto his 
back, with very little difficulty.
	As she pushed him onto his back, Pamela moved forward on 
his body, until she was straddling his chest, sitting on him as he lay flat 
on his back.  She put her knees on his upper arms, pinning them 
roughly to the ground as she straddled his chest.  She looked down into 
his face as he struggled beneath her, unable to push her off of him or 
to pull his wrists free from her grip, and she smiled down at him.
	Mark could not believe what he was witnessing, and he could 
see that the other man, also still tied and gagged in his chair, did not 
believe it either.  This gorgeous, relatively small blond was having her 
way with this guy, and did not even seem to be breaking a sweat. 
	Pamela released one of his wrists, and he put his arm on the 
floor behind his head.  She took his other arm with both hands, 
holding it up so that her students could see it.  "You see, ladies?" she 
asked.  "His hands are useless now.  They're limp and weak.  He can't 
feel them, can't control them, can't use them.  They might as well be 
broken, crushed, but they'll be all right in a couple hours this way, 
instead of a couple months."  She released his other arm, and he 
placed that one on the floor behind his head, as well, clearly unable to 
move his hands.
	Pamela looked down at him, as he struggled beneath her to get 
up, but he had no leverage.  His arms were pinned to the ground 
beneath her knees, his hands useless, and she straddled his chest, 
sitting on him with her full weight.  "You see?" she asked her class.  
"Part one is over.  He is down, and I am able to do as I wish now with 
relative ease.  Of course, he'll continue to struggle.  It wouldn't be any 
fun if he didn't.  But he'll just continue to get weaker and weaker as I 
dominate him and humiliate him."  Her class clapped as she smiled 
down at Phil, as he continued to struggle angrily to get free.
	"So now we've come to the best part," she said.  "This is the 
second part, where you dominate and humiliate your man to your 
heart's desire.  There are tons of things you can do during this part, 
and I encourage you to be creative, to do the things that turn you on 
the most.  I also suggest that you adapt to the situation.  Try to find the 
things that will most humiliate the man you are with, the things that 
turn him on, the positions in which he is most vulnerable, all of which 
varies from one guy to the next.  Anyway, I have lots of favorites, and 
I'll show you as many of them as we have time for, and as many as our 
three guys can take," she said, smiling nastily as the women laughed 
and cheered.
	Pamela looked back down at Phil, as he continued to struggle 
to throw her off of him.  "Just pinning them can be quite wonderful," 
she said.  "Sitting on them, like I am right now, is great, with your 
knees pinning their arms or their hands to the ground, looking down 
into their faces, drinking in their frustration as they realize that they 
are trapped."  She took her knees off of his arms, and took his wrists 
lightly in her hands.  She scooted down on his body, so that she was 
straddling his stomach, leaning forward, lowering her upper body onto 
him.  "This is great, too," she said, "because now I can look right 
down into his eyes while he struggles beneath me, and he can feel my 
body all over him, controlling him."  Phil struggled angrily to get her 
off of him, but he was very clearly pinned.
	Pamela lay down flat on top of him, stretching her legs out 
over his, pressing her crotch, her chest, against his body, looking down 
into his face.  She wrapped her ankles around his, stretching her legs, 
pressing her body against him.  "This is called a grapevine," she said.  
"There are lots of great things about this hold.  I'm controlling his legs 
now, too, and he can feel me all over his body.  In case you're 
wondering, he's hard as a rock."  The women laughed as Pamela 
looked down into Phil's eyes dominantly.  "That's very important, 
because it's incredibly humiliating for him.  This is very sensual, 
because he can feel me all over him, controlling him.  He can feel my 
breath, my speech on his face, and he can feel the reverberation of my 
speech through my body, against his.  I'm turning him on in spite of 
himself.  They have very little control over their bodies, you will find."
	She looked down into Phil's face, and began spreading her 
ankles apart, pulling his legs apart in the process.  "You see what I'm 
doing now?  His legs are tangled in mine, and I'm pulling them apart.  
He can't do anything about it," she said softly against his face.  He 
began screaming, as she stretched his legs still farther apart.  "Because 
of my position, and the flexibility of my body, I can easily stretch his 
legs apart so that it hurts him, but not me.  A woman's legs are one of 
her most powerful tools.  They are incredibly strong and flexible, and 
men consider them extremely sexy.  Men are used to having our legs 
wrapped around them as they fuck us," she said, looking down at Phil.  
"Using your legs to hurt and humiliate a man can be both devastating 
and erotic at once."
	She looked down into Phil's eyes as he began to scream, as she 
spread his legs apart to a very painful point and held them there.  "My 
poor baby," she said softly.  "Does this hurt you?  Can't you break 
free?  How unfortunate for you."  The women laughed as Pamela 
released his legs and sat up on him, straddling his body.  She took off 
her top, exposing full, healthy young breasts.  "The more erotic you 
make your domination of him, the more arousing it will be for both of 
you," she said, exhibiting no shyness whatsoever at exposing her 
naked body in front of her students or their male subjects.  "The more 
you can utilize the most feminine parts of your body to dominate a 
man, the better.  You never want him to forget that you are a lovely, 
young woman, that he is being dominated and controlled by a female.  
This maximizes his humiliation."
	She leaned forward on his body, still holding his arms, pressing 
her crotch, her weight, firmly against his middle, holding him pinned 
beneath her.  She let her breasts hang down over his face, lowering 
herself slightly, so that her breasts touched his face softly.  "You want 
them to feel your body, your femininity, all over them, using them, 
controlling them.  I can't imagine anything more frustrating for them 
than feeling you, soft and female, easily dominating them, and they 
unable to do anything about it."
	"It's also quite fun to suffocate them," she said, looking down 
at Phil as he struggled, her firm, full breasts touching his face.  "To 
use your breasts, your butt, your hands, to deprive them of air.  It's 
wonderfully arousing to feel a man struggling for breath against your 
body, to watch the fear and desperation in his eyes as he tries to 
breathe, as you prevent him from doing so."  She lowered herself onto 
Phil's face, wrapping her arms around his head, hugging him to her 
breasts, using her upper arms to hold her breasts together, sealing them 
over his nose and mouth, looking down intently into his eyes as he 
struggled, flailing his arms about, trying to break free, trying to 
breathe.
	"Of course, you can deprive them of air for as long as you like, 
but pay close attention.  Some women like to let them struggle until 
they almost pass out, and then let them breathe at the last moment.  
Others like to make them pass out, which is what we're going to do to 
poor Phil here," she said, looking down into his eyes as he struggled 
wildly to breathe, as the women laughed with glee.  After another 
minute or two, he stopped struggling, his arms falling to the floor, his 
body going slack.  Pamela lifted herself off of him, then, looking down 
into his sleeping face with satisfaction.  
	"You have to be careful," she said.  "When they lose 
consciousness to you, you will generally want to release them right 
away, and make sure that they start breathing again as they sleep.  
Otherwise, you can kill them.  I hope that isn't what any of you are 
after.  That's why you have to be careful.  If you are going to take total 
control, then you have to take full responsibility, too.  It's easy to get 
carried away, to become drunk with power.  You'll see when you get 
to try for yourselves.  This is very intoxicating, incredibly arousing.  
You have to pay attention to what you're doing, to stay in control.  I'm 
not teaching you how to kill men here, or how to damage them 
permanently.  I'm not into that, and I don't advocate it.  Just be 
careful," she said, looking into her students faces, as she sat on Phil's 
unconscious body.  "Don't do something in the throes of passion that 
you will regret later."
	She sat still and silent for a moment, looking into each 
woman's eyes, making certain that they were paying attention to what 
she said.  "All right," she said finally, smiling wickedly.  "I'll start on 
our next victim, and show you some more of my favorite moves.  
Would someone like to volunteer to keep an eye on our poor Phil, 
while he sleeps?"  A beautiful short-haired brunette raised her hand, 
smiling enthusiastically.  She wore a skimpy white tee-shirt and a pink 
thong bikini.
	"Yes, sweetie, how about you?" Pamela said, pointing to her.  
"Come on up here," she said, standing up, still nude except for her 
workout shorts.  "What's your name, honey?"
	"Beth," the pretty brunette replied quietly, smiling.
	"All right, Beth," Pamela said, returning her smile.  "Come sit 
here on the floor, behind Phil's head.  That's it.  Now take his head.  
That's it, lift it up, and rest it on your lap.  Now cross your leg around 
it, resting your calf on his neck.  That's lovely," she said as Beth 
complied.  "Perfect.  Just be careful that you aren't choking him as he 
sleeps.  Good.  That way, when he awakes, he won't surprise us, will 
he?  And when he wakes up, perhaps you can have a little fun with 
him," Pamela said smiling, as the other women laughed and cheered 
for Beth, as she sat, with her leg crossed comfortably over Phil's neck, 
as he continued to sleep.
	Pamela stood behind the second handsome male model, saying 
	"This is Roger, ladies," as the women clapped enthusiastically.  
"Normally, I like to take a little time with the first part of the process, 
defeating them, putting them in a vulnerable position so that I can beat 
and humiliate them, but in the interest of time, I'm going to take care 
of Roger kind of quickly.  Really, what you do yourselves is a personal 
decision," she said, releasing his gag, and leaning to untie his hands, 
then his feet.
	"You pathetic, crazy little bitches," Roger said, shaking his 
head disdainfully as Pamela untied him.  "If you think that I'm just 
going to stand for this, that all of us guys are just going to let you do 
whatever you want to us,  then your out of your pretty little fucking 
heads," he finished, standing up as Pamela finished untying him, 
facing her, crouching, ready.
	Pamela smiled, looking directly into his eyes, watching him 
carefully, saying "I don't recall asking Roger for his permission or 
advice on how to proceed, do you ladies?  Phil seemed to let me do 
pretty much whatever I wanted, Roger.  Why should I think that you 
will be any different?"  The women laughed.  Roger's eyes narrowed 
as he stared defiantly at Pam, crouching, ready.
	Suddenly, he sprung at her, his right fist clenched, swinging 
towards her sweet, pretty face.  She was prepared for him, though, and 
dodged his blow, catching his hand by the wrist with her own delicate 
little hand, bringing her opposite forearm sharply across into his arm, 
breaking it sharply, and then quickly releasing it as he screamed in 
pain and stepped back from her, holding his broken arm in his 
opposite hand, shrieking, staring at Pamela in shock.
	"As I said before, I normally don't prefer to break their bones," 
Pamela explained to her class, "but I don't want to waste time sparring 
with this one, because I want to continue on with our discussion on 
domination and humiliation.  Besides, he seems in need of a lesson," 
she said, shrugging carelessly as Roger held his broken arm angrily, 
crouching, glaring at her.
	She stepped forward quickly, bringing her foot up sharply into 
his testicles, causing him to howl in pain and to step back.  She 
pursued him, taking him by the shoulders and lifting her knee 
ruthlessly into his crotch, causing his legs to give out as he tried to fall 
to his knees.  Pamela put her hands under his arms as his legs gave out, 
holding him in front of her, and she lifted her knee into his stomach, 
forcing the air from him as he gasped and grunted.  She quickly kneed 
his stomach a second time, and a third, releasing him as he gasped for 
breath.  He fell to his knees, and she put her hands on his shoulders, 
firmly.  As he gasped for breath, she pulled his body into her knee, 
driving it into his chest, smiling as he grunted, and driving it into him 
a second time.  She released his shoulders and smiled knowingly as he 
collapsed on the floor at her feet in a fetal position, gasping for air, 
holding his lame arm delicately.
	Pamela stood above him, still nude except for her shorts, her 
hands on her hips as her students cheered at the sight of the man 
rolling defenselessly on the floor at her feet.  "I'm going to work on 
this one with my legs," she said, stomping on his stomach with her 
foot, smiling as he again gasped desperately for breath on the floor.  
She took off her workout shorts, revealing fantastic legs and an 
incredible butt, covered only by sexy, lacy black panties.  She lowered 
herself on top of him, straddling him as he lay on the floor, struggling 
to regain his composure.
	Mark was shocked.  He could not believe what he was seeing.  
How was this woman able to so easily dominate these larger, 
seemingly stronger men?  She seemed to know so much about it, to 
take such pleasure in it, too.  Would she be able to dominate him so 
easily?  He hoped he would not find out, not in this room full of lovely 
women, including his manager Katie.  How humiliating that would be.  
He feared that he would be next.  He was the only one left.  Katie 
continued to look over at him occasionally, to smile at him coolly, to 
eye him passively, studiously.
	Pamela sat low on Roger's body, her butt on his lap, her legs 
straddling him, putting her hands on his shoulders to force him flat on 
his back as he struggled weakly.  She looked down at him hungrily as 
he struggled to break free of her easy pin, unable to do so.  Pamela 
released his shoulders and sat up straight on him.  As she expected, he 
immediately sat up beneath her, as she straddled him, struggling to 
push her off of his lap.  He tried to strike at her with his good arm, but 
she caught it by the wrist in her hand and held it firmly as he sat up 
beneath her body, facing her, trying to throw her off of him.
	She scooted forward on his lap, bringing her crotch up snug 
against his belly, and she brought his good arm behind his back, 
circling her arms around him, holding his arm behind him and hugging 
him to her.  Her body, her breasts, her tummy, were pressed against 
him.  She wrapped her legs around him.  He could feel her thighs 
against his sides, her body against his.  He could feel her all over him, 
feel her breath on his face, her soft hair on his neck and shoulder.
	Pamela locked her ankles behind him, holding him snugly 
between her legs, pressing him firmly against her body with her arms 
encircling him.  "I'm sitting on his lap now, as you can see," she said 
to her class, looking at them over Roger's shoulder.  "He's very erect.  
He can feel my ass in his lap, my breasts, my body pressed against 
him, my legs wrapped around him.  This is a terribly arousing position 
for him, but it's also an incredibly vulnerable one," she said smiling, 
looking into Roger's eyes with passive interest.
	"I'm sitting on him, and my arms and legs are wrapped around 
him," she continued.  "He can't get free.  I have him for as long as I 
want him, isn't that right my sweet?" she whispered into his ear, as he 
struggled ineffectually to break free, cursing her.  "Now," Pamela 
continued to her class, "watch as I begin to squeeze him between my 
legs, as I sit prettily on his lap."  She locked her ankles behind him, 
and began straightening her legs, and squeezing them together.  Roger 
grunted and gasped audibly as she dug her thighs into his sides, 
pressing her crotch against his middle, pulling his body to her roughly.
	"He can feel my body all over him.  He feels my legs wrapped 
around him, squeezing him tighter and tighter all the time.  He can tell 
that I am not yet squeezing nearly as hard as I can, so he can be very 
afraid of what's yet to come.  I can feel his erection against me, his 
stomach struggling to stay taught, to keep me from contracting him, 
his body trembling as he struggles."  She looked into his eyes as she 
squeezed harder, and his grunts became more pronounced, more 
urgent.
	"He's having a more and more difficult time breathing, 
because I'm squeezing his middle smaller and smaller, giving him less 
space in which to draw breath.  He's flexing his stomach muscles, 
trying to keep me from contracting him even further."  She squeezed 
him harder, and he began screaming.  "This is exhausting for him, 
because he isn't able to take in enough breath, and he's having to 
struggle all the time to keep his body flexed, so that I don't collapse 
him still more.  He can't win, because I'm not having to struggle the 
way that he is.  I can feel him between my thighs, feel his muscles, 
feel his breath.  I can just relax, pay attention, and wait.  When he 
rests, when he exhales, I clamp down on him."
	She squeezed harder, suddenly, and he screamed.  "You see?" 
she said to her students.  "He had to rest for a moment, and I felt it 
immediately, and tightened my legs around him.  He has lost that 
space to me, now.  He can't get it back.  He can only try not to give me 
any more, but that becomes more and more difficult, because now he 
has less room for breath, the pressure against his muscles is greater, 
and the pain I am causing him has increased.  He won't be able to 
resist me at all in another minute or two, and then I can really hurt 
him."
	She continued to squeeze him harder, every time he rested or 
exhaled.  His breaths were very short, and he struggled and screamed 
as she crushed him in her thighs, looking alternately into his face and 
over his shoulder at her students.  After another minute, she began 
increasing the pressure, fighting him, crushing him brutally, until she 
felt him give completely.  "There," she said, squeezing him 
mercilessly now as he screamed desperately in pain.  "His muscles are 
completely exhausted now.  You see how tight I am able to squeeze 
him?  He can't resist at all anymore."  She squeezed tighter, and his 
screams pierced the room.
	Pamela hugged his body to her, resting her chin on his 
shoulder, looking at her students, as he rested his chin on her opposite 
shoulder.  She continued to crush him in her thighs as he screamed, 
defenseless to her.  "His tummy feels incredibly weak, and soft, and 
squishy," she said, crushing him in her legs as he screamed.  "He 
literally can't do anything, now, except sit there and let me crush him, 
as I rest comfortably on his lap, using his body," she said, squeezing 
him harder still, smiling at her students as he screamed.  She crushed 
his soft, defenseless stomach, her beautiful, strong legs wrapped 
possessively around his body, forcing him to scream, quickly bringing 
him to tears.
	"Oh," she moaned, smiling at her students.  "You hear that?  
He's crying now, on my shoulder, sobbing, because I am hurting him 
so, because he can't do anything about it.  This is unbelievably 
arousing," she said as he wept on her shoulder, as she squeezed him 
more still.  "Oh.  You'll have to experience this for yourselves, but 
trust me when I say that there are few things I know of that are more 
pleasurable."  She squeezed harder, causing his sobs to intensify.  She 
moaned and kissed his neck, savaging him between her legs as he 
cried on her shoulder.  His sobs became convulsive as she squeezed 
him tighter still, moaning femininely and finally climaxing against his 
middle.
	"Whew!" she gasped, smiling nastily at the women in her class 
as Roger continued to sob against her, as she continued to handle him 
roughly between her legs.  "And that was all my legs," she said.  
"Imagine what pain I could have caused him if I had been hugging him 
with my body, my arms, at the same time as I squeezed him between 
my thighs?  He is so completely helpless.  I could do him great 
damage, if I wanted."  She pulled her head back, off of his shoulder, 
and looked into his face, speaking to him softly.  "Do you believe that 
I could damage you, Roger?" she asked him gently.
	He sniffled and continued to weep quietly, but said nothing, 
looking at her angrily.  She squeezed his middle between her thighs, 
and he screamed, but still said nothing.  Pamela hugged him to her 
roughly, putting her chin back on his shoulder, looking at her students 
and smiling.  "Roger doesn't think I can damage him," she said, and 
she began crushing him horribly between her legs, and simultaneously 
hugging him forcefully against her naked body.  He flailed his arm 
about ineffectually as he screamed in pain, putting his hand on her, 
trying desperately to pry himself loose, to push her away.  She smiled 
and squeezed him tighter, easily forcing him to sob in pain and shame 
once again, screaming and sobbing as she had her way with his body.
	"I feel his tears on my shoulder," she said to the women.  "I 
feel the tension in his body, and I know that if I squeeze just a little bit 
harder," she said, and then did squeeze her arms around him a little 
harder, smiling as she heard one of his ribs break, "that I'll break 
him," she finished.  She did not attempt to break another rib, but 
instead simply continued to hold him firmly in her arms as he wept on 
her shoulder.  "Roger?" she said gently.  "Roger?  Answer me before I 
break you some more, my darling."
	"Yes," he said, sobbing quietly.
	"Beg me not to hurt you anymore, sweetie," she said, 
squeezing him firmly.
	"Yes," he wept.  "I beg you.  Please don't hurt me anymore.  
Oh, please."
	She smiled at her students triumphantly, and kissed Roger's 
neck tenderly.  "Good," she said, and she stood up, releasing him, 
letting him fall, crumpled, to the floor, weeping at her feet.
She looked down at him, with her hands on her hips.  "Kiss my 
feet, Roger," she said quietly.
	He quickly lifted his head from the floor and kissed her left 
foot, obediently, tenderly, and then kissed her right foot.  "Good," she 
said quietly.  Looking up to her class, she said, "Who would like to 
keep an eye on Roger, ladies?  Oh, yes, you," she said, pointing to a 
gorgeous, young woman with pale white skin, a fantastic, curvaceous 
body and long red hair, who wore a lacy black teddy.
	"What's your name, honey?" Pamela asked her, as she came 
forward to stand over Roger, next to Pamela.
	"Sarah," the woman answered.
	"Good," Pamela said.  "Now sit down on the floor next to 
Roger.  That's it.  Now scoot up onto him.  Good.  Sit on his stomach.  
Straddle him, that's right, like that.  Put your butt on his weak little 
tummy.  Put all of your weight onto it."  The women laughed as Roger 
gasped in pain.  "Perfect.  Now, if you want to make Roger cry, just 
bounce up and down on his poor middle.  Do you feel how soft he is?  
Isn't that wonderful?  He's so helpless."  Roger struggled weakly 
beneath the woman, but was unable to budge her, and she sat on him 
easily, comfortably.
	Sarah smiled and nodded.  "He's very weak.  He can hardly 
bear my weight as I sit on him.  His stomach feels as though it might 
collapse beneath me," she said, her voice growing thick.
	Pamela smiled back at her and shrugged.  "Oh well," she said.  
"That's Roger's concern, not ours, right?"  Sarah nodded, and the 
women in the class giggled.
	Pamela turned to look at Beth.  "How is Phil?" she asked her.
	"Oh, he's no trouble at all," Beth said, looking down into 
Phil's face.  He had awakened, and he lay with the back of his head 
pressed firmly into her lap, with her leg crossed around his head, her 
calf pressed firmly against his throat, forcing him to struggle for 
breath.  Beth held his wrists lightly in her hands as she sat, watching 
Pamela.
	"Well since he's awake," Pamela said, "why don't I get you 
started on him before I move on to the next unfortunate subject."  She 
walked over to where Phil lay, with his head clamped into Beth's lap.  
Pamela placed her foot firmly on his chest, pinning his body to the 
floor.  "Okay Beth, let go of his head now.  I'm going to have you put 
him in a body scissors.  You can feel for  yourself how wonderful it is 
to wear down a man's body between your legs.  Are you up for that?"
Beth smiled and looked down hungrily at Phil.  "Oh, yeah," she 
said smiling.
	"Good," Pamela said, keeping her foot planted on Phil.  "Now, 
lay down next to him on the floor.  That's it."  Pamela took her foot 
off of him, and leaned over, lifting his lower body roughly off of the 
floor by his ankles as he struggled to break them free from her.  "Now, 
Beth sweetheart, lay on your side, and prop yourself up on an elbow, 
so you can see into his face.  Now sweep your lower leg underneath 
him, against his back.  That's it," Pamela said, carelessly dropping 
Phil's lower body to the floor.  "Now put your other leg over the top of 
him.  Right.  Bend your legs at the waist so that you can lay with your 
body in close to him while your legs are wrapped around him.  Good.  
And here, pull him in close against you, and then lock your ankles and 
tighten your legs."
	Phil's eyes widened and he began to grunt and gasp as Beth 
straightened her legs and flexed them against his body, contracting his 
stomach powerfully between her thighs.  Pamela smiled and looked 
down at them.  "Perfect," she said, as Phil began screaming in pain 
and writhing his body desperately between Beth's legs.  "That's it, 
Beth," Pamela said.  "Look right into his eyes while you squeeze him.  
Focus on bringing your legs closer and closer together," she told her 
student as Phil continued to scream.  "And make him be silent, Beth, if 
you can, so that I can continue to talk to everyone as I start in on our 
next boy."
	Mark's eyes widened in fear, as Pamela turned to him, smiling, 
very much in control.  He watched as Beth quickly convinced Phil to 
be silent, shaking his body like a rag doll between her thighs, and 
finally taking hold of his throat with one of her pretty, feminine hands 
and cutting off his air supply as she crushed him between her thighs 
until he promised to be quiet.  When he did, she stopped choking him, 
but continued to crush him in her legs harder and harder as he gasped 
and eventually wept silently, as his stomach gave way to her powerful 
legs, as she looked down into his face, satisfied to lay next to him and 
make him cry for her, as she squeezed his stomach flat between her 
lovely, feminine legs.  Mark heard her moan girlishly, and shake Phil's 
body roughly between her thighs as she climaxed against his body.
	He continued to watch Pamela as she came toward him, seeing, 
out of the corner of his eye, the one named Roger laying on his back, 
weeping defenselessly as the beautiful redhead, Sarah, leaned forward 
on him, looking into his face, pressing her crotch roughly against his 
soft middle, pressing down on his chest with her hands, easily forcing 
all of the air from him in painful gasps, laughing in his face, smiling 
down at him sweetly, leaning forward to kiss his face softly as he cried 
and gasped beneath her.
	Mark held his breath as Pamela stood next to him, walked 
around behind him.  She was nothing short of fantastic.  "This is 
Mark," she said from behind him, and he felt her hands untying his 
gag.  He sensed that she was waiting for him to say something, but he 
did not speak.  She stooped down in front of him, untying his feet, 
looking up into his face curiously.  "Aren't you going to threaten me, 
Mark?" she asked him.  "Or call me names?"
	"No," he said quietly, looking into her face as she untied one 
wrist, and then the other.  He stood up silently, and started walking, 
slowly, deliberately towards the stairs which led out of the basement.
Pamela looked at her students for a moment, and then followed 
him, catching up to him before he reached the stairs, walking up 
behind him, reaching between his legs from behind and catching hold 
of his testicles in her hand, giving them a firm squeeze, forcing him to 
gasp in pain and to stop walking.
	"You can't leave, honey," she said softly, smiling, looking into 
his eyes as he turned to face her, as she held his testicles firmly in her 
little hand.  The women were turned in their chairs so that they could 
watch.
	Mark clenched his teeth, and said "Oh, yes I can," and he 
pushed his elbow back sharply into Pamela's stomach, causing her to 
grunt in surprise and lose her breath, quickly releasing him from her 
grasp.  He turned and took hold of her by the throat, slamming her 
forcefully into the wall with a loud thud, as she again grunted in pain, 
as her breasts shook from the impact.  He drew back his hand quickly, 
to punch her in the stomach, and her eyes widened in what looked like 
fear, but he changed his mind at the last moment, unclenching his fist 
and again turning towards the stairs to walk away.
	Pamela came up behind him quickly, and lifted her leg sharply 
between his, slamming it into his balls.  He howled in pain, and before 
he could turn to face her, she landed an elbow sharply to the middle of 
his back.  He turned to face her then, and she punched him in the 
stomach.  Mark threw a punch at her, but she avoided it, and landed 
another to his stomach, thoroughly knocking the wind from him.  As 
he gasped for breath, she took hold of his shoulders, sweeping her leg 
beneath him, knocking his own legs out from under him, bringing him 
to the floor on his back, still gasping for air.  She fell onto his stomach 
with her knee, driving it into him, insuring that he would struggle for 
breath yet a while longer.
	As he continued to gasp on the floor, Pamela rolled him 
roughly over onto his stomach, and stepped up onto his back, as her 
students cheered for her.  Before he could try to roll her off of him, she 
reached down and took his hands by the wrists, pulling them straight 
behind his back, standing on him, holding his arms straight in front of 
her.  She placed one foot further back, pinning his lower body beneath 
it, and moved the other foot between his shoulder blades, holding his 
chest firmly against the ground as she pulled his arms straight back.
	He struggled, but it quickly became evident that he could not 
break the hold.  "I like Mark," she said, pulling back on his arms, 
stretching them, beginning to slowly twist them at the wrists.  He held 
his breath, and tried not to scream as she stretched his arms back, as he 
lay beneath her feet, pinned to the ground.  "He's very polite, and 
awfully cute.  Did you notice how, rather than hit me a minute ago, he 
stopped himself and tried to walk away again?"  The women nodded.
	"He couldn't bring himself to do it.  He was afraid he might 
hurt me, felt that hitting me would be dishonorable.  That's very 
sweet, but I just used it against him, didn't I?  I don't feel guilty, 
ladies.  He'll still be a sweet guy when I'm through with him.  He'll 
just be a sweet guy that does as I say," she said smiling, leaning back, 
stretching his arms and twisting them as he began to scream a little, no 
longer able to bear the pain silently.
	Pamela smiled and looked down at him, pulling him back 
harder.  "This is another way to get their arms and hands out of the 
way for a while.  His will be useless, temporarily, when I'm through 
with them.  Then I'll be able to discipline him," she said, her voice 
soft and thick.
	As she continued to stretch him, she spoke over his screams.  
"One of my favorite ways to dominate and humiliate a man is to spank 
him," she said.  "That's what I'm going to do to Mark here," she said, 
letting go of his arms, watching as they fell limply to the floor at his 
sides.  "There are lots of great ways to beat a man," she said smiling, 
stepping off of Mark's back.
	"Spanking is one of the most humiliating things you can do to 
them, and you can cause them a great deal of pain, really make them 
scream and cry.  There's no question of who's in charge when you 
have them thrown over your lap, and they're sobbing and struggling as 
you beat their naked asses," she said smiling at her students.
	"Some women like to use whips, and crops, and paddles, all of 
which are wonderful.  I encourage you to experiment with them," she 
said.  "Myself, I like to use things that are more feminine, more 
personal, more humiliating for a man to be beaten with.  My favorites 
are my hairbrush, my belts, my shoes, and my bare hands.  There are 
lots of wonderful positions, too," she said, placing a foot on Mark's 
back, forcing him down to the ground as he struggled to get up.  
	"You," Pamela said to Katie.  "Can you come sit on his back 
for a minute, and just keep him still?"  Katie nodded and smiled as she 
stood up, wearing a tiny bra and panties, and walked over, sitting 
down forcefully on his back, straddling him as he struggled beneath 
her to roll over or to get up.  Pamela walked across the room, back 
toward the front, where the men had been bound and gagged.
	Katie leaned forward on him, pressing his face against the 
ground with her hand, whispering, "Hi, Mark.  What's the matter?  
Can't you get up, lover?  Poor baby," and she bounced on his back 
lightly, pushing his stomach against the floor with the weight of her 
body, smiling as he gasped.
	Pamela returned carrying a hairbrush and a wide, black, leather 
belt, smiling, and patting Katie on the shoulder.  "Thanks, dear," she 
said to her.  Katie smiled and stood up, stepping carelessly on Mark as 
she returned to her seat.
	Pamela knelt down to the floor, between Mark's legs as he 
again struggled to get up.  She positioned her knees on the backs of his 
legs, pinning his lower body to the ground, and she reached up and 
pulled his boxers down just below his buttocks, rubbing her hands and 
fingernails over his butt gently as he trembled at her touch.
	"Now we're going to learn some obedience, Mark, honey," she 
said gently.  "Do you understand?"
	He did not answer, and she smiled as she began beating him on 
the ass with her hairbrush.  He voiced his pain and struggled to get 
away from her, but she knelt on the backs of his thighs, holding him 
still as she spanked him.  He gasped in pain, but did not scream as she 
beat him, kneeling on his legs, holding him in place, turning his butt 
pink as she beat on it with her brush.
	"Will you answer me now?" she asked him, and still he said 
nothing.  "Excellent," she said, smiling at her students, crawling 
across his body, smiling as his body jolted, when she crawled across 
his pink, tender butt.  She settled herself on his back, straddling his 
body, facing his ass, as he continued to struggle desperately beneath 
her.  "How humiliating this must be for you, Mark," she said as she 
began beating him again on the ass, turning his butt red as she spanked 
him tirelessly.  "Spanked like a little boy, by a lovely young woman, in 
front of all of these other pretty little women.  And I'm using my 
hairbrush, too.  Not some paddle or something.  I'm hurting you with 
the brush I use on my hair every morning.  When I use it from now on, 
I'll think of beating you," she said smiling, spanking him steadily.
	The pain became worse and worse for Mark, and he struggled 
wildly, and voiced his discomfort at each blow.  "Now, will you be an 
obedient little boy yet?" Pamela asked him.  When he did not answer, 
Pamela again smiled, throwing the brush aside, picking up her belt.  
She scooted herself back on him, sitting on the back of his neck, using 
her ass to drive his face and his upper body into the ground, and she 
began beating him harshly with her belt.  She used her free hand to 
lean back on his head, carelessly mashing his face against the floor.  
He quickly began screaming at the pain, from beneath Pamela's ass, 
and he struggled to get her off of him, but she had him.
	"Beg me to stop," she said, issuing another lash with her belt, 
letting the movement of her body press his face against the floor.  He 
screamed as she beat him, but he did not beg.  Pamela threw the belt 
aside and stood up, saying "Oh, you will beg, honey.  You will," and 
she reached down, taking a handful of his hair and pulling him to his 
feet, she walked across the room with him, pulling him harshly by the 
hair on his head, as he struggled to keep up with her, tripping over his 
boxer shorts, which were halfway down his legs.
	When they arrived back in the front of the room, she dragged 
him to the chair which he had been bound to earlier, and she sat down, 
still holding his head by the hair.  As she sat, she threw him over her 
lap, face down.  He immediately struggled to get up, but she quickly 
put one of her long legs over both of his, pulling him in against her 
body, holding his legs together tightly so that he could not use them.  
She took his hand in hers, and pulled it behind his back forcefully, 
bending the arm, forcing the hand up high on his back, and pressing it 
flat, using it to hold him steady.
	Pamela began spanking him with the palm of her bare hand 
then.  "I like using my bare hand the best," she said, looking at her 
students as Mark screamed.  "It is the most humiliating for them, 
without question, and it can be quite painful, particularly if you have 
already made their butts as raw and tender as I have made poor 
Mark's," she said.  "And the feel of your hand, your bare hand, 
smacking against his butt, making him scream, making his whole body 
shake with pain on your lap, is just fantastic."  He screamed as she 
continued to spank him.  "Beth and Sarah, why don't you ladies go 
ahead and sit down, and let Katie and one of the other women come 
on up and spank Phil and Roger?"  Pamela stopped spanking Mark, 
holding him still on her lap, watching her students, casually running 
her hand over Mark's butt, smiling absently as he gasped and trembled 
at her touch.
	Mark was able to see as the women complied, and Katie and 
another pretty, young blond woman came to the front of the room.  
The blond lay down next to Roger, propping herself on one elbow and 
extending one of her legs beneath his body, laying on her side, facing 
his legs.  She swept her other leg over the top of him, easily applying a 
scissors hold to his body, as he struggled to push her legs apart.  His 
butt was right in front of her, and she pushed his boxers down past his 
buttocks, and began spanking him with her bare hand, while she 
continued to squeeze him between her legs.
	Katie sat down on high on Phil's chest, looking over her 
shoulder down at his face.  Her butt was inches from his neck and 
face, as she sat on him.  She leaned forward, catching his upper legs in 
her hands, and pulling them back to her, lifting his legs, and his entire 
lower body off of the ground as he struggled beneath her.  She pulled 
him back forcefully, and adjusted herself on his chest, so that his waist 
was snug against her crotch, upside down, with his legs extending 
straight up into the air above him.  She locked her legs around him, 
and began squeezing his body between them, as she removed his 
shorts, and she reached around and began spanking him with her bare 
hand, as she sat on top of him, with his middle between her thighs, 
crushing him and beating him as she rested comfortably on his chest.
	Pamela smiled as she began to spank Mark again, really tearing 
into him now.  "You ladies are great," she said to her students.  "You 
are showing me new positions, too," she said, laughing as she beat 
Mark's ass, as he screamed from the ever-increasing pain until he 
could no longer bear it and began weeping as he lay on Pamela's lap, 
as she spanked him with her bare hand.  She smiled as she felt his 
body sob, as she felt his tears streaming down her leg.  "Beg me to 
stop, Mark," she said gently, hitting him again.
	"Please stop beating me," he said as she held him firmly on her 
lap.  "Please stop.  I beg you."
	Pamela smiled, and stopped hitting him, reaching down to pet 
his head with her hand, as he continued to lay across her lap, crying.  
Phil and Roger were both in tears, as well, as the women continued to 
squeeze their soft, defenseless stomachs between their thighs and 
spank them with their bare hands.  Pamela released Mark's legs, and 
lowered his body gently to the ground.  She stood over him, and held 
her foot above his face, saying nothing, looking down at him 
expectantly.  He kissed her foot obediently, and sucked her toes as she 
put them into his mouth.  Then she pulled her foot away, and sat down 
on his chest, straddling him, looking down into his face.
	"What's your name, sweetie?" Pamela asked the lovely blond 
woman who was beating Roger.
	"Sandra," she answered, smiling as she squeezed Roger's soft 
body between her thighs, causing his body to wrack with sobs.
	"Okay, Sandra, and Katie," Pamela said.  "You guys have done 
a wonderful job of beating and badly humiliating Roger and Phil.  If 
this were a real situation, you could obviously do exactly what you 
wanted with them at this point.  You could keep beating them, or find 
different ways to hurt and humiliate them, or you could start teaching 
them to serve you.  I want to get into that third part a little bit, before 
we run out of time, but I thought we could let the last two ladies take 
over on Roger and Phil at this point, and I'll continue with Mark," she 
said, looking down at him, and leaning forward to pet his head as he 
lay on his back beneath her, looking up at her attentively.
	Katie and Sandra nodded and complied, releasing the men, 
leaving them trembling, crying, whimpering on the floor.  The two 
remaining women rose from their seats and walked to the front of the 
room, each sitting down on one of the broken, beaten men, straddling 
them, looking down at them.  The women identified themselves to 
Pamela as Dana and Rose.  Both were brunettes.  Dana had very long, 
wavy brown hair, bright green eyes, and a lean, gorgeous body.  She 
wore a tiny, white tank top and white, lace panties.  Rose had straight, 
shoulder-length hair, a curvaceous body with full breasts and a firm, 
round butt.  She wore a gray sports bra and denim shorts which did not 
completely cover her fleshy, feminine buttocks.
	"All right, Rose and Dana," Pamela said, absently petting Mark 
on the head.  "You have the easy jobs tonight.  Your men are already 
beaten, humiliated, broken, docile.  In real life, of course, you would 
have had to make them that way yourselves.  Now, you can teach them 
to do as you wish.  You can be as creative as you like.  You can use 
them sexually, sit on their faces, make them lick you, suck you, to 
your hearts' content.  You can make them kiss your feet, or carry you 
around on their backs like horses."
	"You can teach them to serve you, to bathe you, to dress you, 
to feed you, to do household chores.  You can use their bodies as 
chairs, sofas, beds.  The possibilities are limited only by your 
imagination, and the degree to which you can control your men.  So do 
with them as you wish," Pamela said, still petting Mark's head with 
her feminine little hand, as she straddled him.  She quietly removed 
her black panties, tossing them aside, again brushing her hand through 
his hair, her naked body sitting comfortably on top of him.
	Mark and Pamela watched as Dana stood up next to Phil, 
taking off her shoes and socks, quietly saying "Get on your hands and 
knees, my dear."  He quickly complied, getting to his hands and knees 
at her feet.  "Kiss my foot," she said softly.  She smiled, visibly 
aroused as he lowered his face to her foot and began kissing it.  She 
lifted her other foot to his back, leaning on his body, letting him 
support her as he kissed her foot obediently.
	Rose, still straddling Roger's body, leaned forward on him, 
removing her sports bra.  She let her breasts hang over his face, 
looking down into his eyes, and slowly lowered herself to him, saying 
"Kiss my breast, dear.  Now suck it.  That's it.  Take it into your 
mouth.  That's a good boy," she said quietly, putting her hands on the 
back of his head, pulling him to her breast, running her fingers through 
his hair as he sucked her.
	Dana pressed down firmly on Phil's back with her foot, 
lowering him face-down to the floor.  She took off her panties, raising 
her eyebrows as the other women giggled.  As was usually the case, 
Pamela had successfully created an environment where the women in 
her class trusted one another, and became bolder, more and more 
willing to do things in front of the class which they would normally 
reserve for more personal settings.  Pamela led this process by 
example, without forcing or even encouraging the other women to do 
anything with which they did not feel comfortable.
	Dana sat down on the floor in front of Phil's head.  She lifted 
his face off of the floor, positioning it so that he was looking at her, 
and she scooted her crotch in against his face, stretching her legs on 
either side of his head, over his shoulders, resting her feet on his back.  
She was on her back, propped up on her elbows, and could look down 
into his eyes between her legs.  The lower portion of his face was 
pressed snugly against her sex, and her legs held his face against her 
body possessively.  She locked her ankles on his back and tightened 
her thighs around his head firmly, shaking her hips, and his entire 
upper body playfully, smiling down at him.  
	"Lick me like a good boy," she told him, looking into his eyes, 
smiling approvingly as she felt him begin, squeezing his head between 
her thighs as he sucked her off, moaning with arousal, never breaking 
eye contact with him as he obediently licked her.
	Rose sat up on Roger's chest, looking down into his face, 
straddling him, her breast still wet with his saliva.  She turned around 
on him, still straddling his body, sitting on his chest, but facing away 
from his head.  She looked back over her shoulder, down into his face.  
"I want you to lick my butt," she said confidently, quietly.  "I want you 
to put your tongue in my butt.  Do you understand?"  She smiled as he 
nodded, patting his head, and laying down on his body, on her front, so 
that her full, nude breasts were pressed against his weak, tortured 
belly, and she stretched her legs out behind her, over his head, and 
pulled off her denim shorts.
	When she sat back up, Rose positioned her knees on his upper 
arms, and covered his entire face with her firm, round butt.  "Now, 
kiss my ass.  That's it, honey, French kiss my butt.  Put your tongue in 
me.  Put it in farther," she said, bucking on Roger's head.  She reached 
forward and caught one of his hands and pulled it back to her.  As she 
gyrated her body on his face, feeling his tongue deep inside her ass, 
she guided his hand over her breasts, down her tight stomach, to her 
sex, and she began using his hand to stroke herself.  Roger quickly 
understood, and she let go of his hand, using her fingers to claw his 
chest, as he used his hand to pleasure her, while she moaned and 
bucked on his face, as he pushed his tongue deep inside of her ass.
	Pamela looked down at Mark, and used her hand to turn his 
head so that he was looking up at her.  When she had his attention, she 
lifted herself off of his chest slightly, and removed her panties, setting 
them aside and allowing her body to settle back down onto his chest, 
so that he was once again supporting her full weight.  She moved 
forward on his body, until she was straddling his neck, and she smiled 
in amusement as he gasped for breath, her naked thighs pressed 
against his neck.  She backed up so that his upper chest was supporting 
her weight, and extended her legs out straight in front of her, on either 
side of his head.  She reached down between her legs, pulling his head 
up off of the ground, bending his neck so that his head faced her 
tummy, as she sat on his chest.
	Pamela smiled as she heard the other women moaning and 
climaxing as they forced the men to pleasure them, and she crossed 
her legs beneath Mark's head, laying down on her back on top of him, 
pushing her crotch into his face, using her legs to pull his face against 
her.  She settled her head, her pretty, soft hair on his middle, and she 
looked up at the ceiling, as she held his head possessively between her 
thighs, using her legs to pull his face against her.  "Pleasure me, 
Mark," she said, pressing his face against her, finding his hands with 
hers, as she lay on her back, on top of him, clasping his fingers in hers, 
moaning and squirming femininely as he licked her, as she used her 
legs to push his tongue deeper into her.  She guided his hands over her 
hips, her tummy, her breasts as he sucked her, as she moaned along 
with the other women, clamping his face tightly against her as she 
climaxed with his tongue inside of her, making love to her, his hands 
forced flush against her firm, heaving breasts.
	When she finished, she lay on her back, recovering, still 
holding Mark's head between her thighs, still holding his face against 
her crotch.  As she lay on her back, feeling Mark's erection against the 
back of her head, she glanced over, and saw that the other women 
were also reclining on their men, resting.  Dana was laying on top of 
Phil, resting her head on his shoulder as he struggled to breathe, in his 
weak condition, beneath her weight, which was distributed all over his 
body.  Rose lay on her back as well, with her shoulders on the floor, 
her arms at her sides, and her butt still on Roger's face, her legs 
stretched out on his body.  She was casually digging her heels into his 
stomach, smiling to herself as he gasped beneath her ass.
	Finally, Pamela sat up, scooting back on Mark so that she was 
once again straddling his chest.  "Well, that was lovely," she said, as 
the other women laughed.  She stood up, as did Rose and Dana, and 
she said, "Make them dress you, if you like, ladies," she said, looking 
down at Mark, pointing silently to her panties.  He crawled over and 
picked them up, holding them out for her as she stepped into them, 
pulling them up gently around her waist as she patted his head 
affectionately.  She watched as the other women made their men do 
the same.
	Pamela used her hand to push Mark down to his hands and 
knees, and she sat on his back, straddling him as she might a horse.  
"One of the great things about beating and humiliating men," she said, 
smiling, petting Mark's head as she sat on his back, "is that you can do 
just about whatever you want, and not have to worry anyone finding 
out, unless you want them to.  The men are usually much too 
embarrassed and humiliated to tell anyone what you have done to 
them.  And, if you've done a good job, they will be afraid of you, and 
will not want to do anything to displease you.  Plus, if you've done a 
really good job, they will worship you completely, and will want 
nothing but to please you.  So you see, being a woman has its 
advantages," she said smiling, running her fingers absently through 
Mark's hair.
	"I want to thank you all for taking my class," she continued, 
smiling as her students applauded her.  "As you know, your tuition is 
fully guaranteed.  If you don't feel, in six months, that this was the 
best money you ever spent, I'll give it back to you, plus interest.  I 
teach a second, more advanced class, for any of you who might be 
interested.  It is more personal, with just me, you, and a male subject, 
and we spend more time on humiliation and training.  If you reach a 
point in your lives where you want to train one, special male to serve 
you fully, then you may find the class helpful.  We can use your male 
as the subject in the class, or I can provide one.  Whatever you like.  
By the time your reach that point, you may be able to do a darn good 
job with him on your own.  If you know of other women, or if you 
meet other women, who you trust, who fit the proper mold, please feel 
free to refer them to me."
	She turned to Roger and Phil, who lie on the floor, beaten, 
humiliated, shaking with pain.  "Boys, the rest of your clothes are in 
your cars, as is your money.  I trust that cash is okay," she said smiling 
down at them.  "Once you help your mistresses out to their cars, you 
are free to go.  Send your medical bills to me at this address, but don't 
be unreasonable with me, or I'll come looking for you," she smiled, 
folding her arms, looking at the men firmly, as the other women 
laughed.
	The two men obediently began carrying the women on their 
backs, one at a time, upstairs and out to their cars, lowering their faces 
to the ground to kiss each woman's feet as she stood next to her car.
In the basement, Katie walked up to where Pamela sat on 
Mark's back.  "What about Mark?" she asked Pamela, looking down 
at Mark.
	Pamela smiled, and again pet Mark's head as she sat on his 
back.  "Oh, yes.  You're his agent, aren't you?  Well, he is free to go, 
too," she said.  "Though it would please me if he stayed here with me 
for a few days.  I would so enjoy that," she said, looking down at him, 
flexing her legs against his sides, ever so slightly.  He turned his head 
to the side, kissing her calf obediently as she straddled his back.  He 
said nothing, but it was evident that he would stay as long as she 
wished.
	Katie smiled, looking down at Mark, and said "I'll call you in a 
few days then, Mark.  I have you in mind for a few jobs," she said.
	"Thank Katie, my sweet," Pamela said softly, flexing her 
thighs against Mark's body.  He quickly complied, lowering his face to 
the floor, kissing both of Katie's feet tenderly.  Katie pet his head, and 
ran her hand along his face.  She leaned forward, over him, and gave 
Pamela a hug, thanking her for the wonderful class, then she rode out 
to her car on Roger's back.
	When they were alone, Pamela squeezed Mark gently between 
her legs, digging her heels into his belly, and said "Take me upstairs 
now, my little puppy," and Mark complied, carrying her up the stairs 
and through the house on his back.  She made him stop in the kitchen, 
where she drew herself a glass of water, which she quickly drank.  
When she finished, she filled it again, still sitting on his back, and 
poured it slowly into his mouth from behind.  She showed him the way 
to her bedroom, and he carried her there on his back.
	Pamela swung her leg around his body and stepped off of him, 
standing up, towering over him with her hands on her hips, still nude 
except for her black, lacy panties.  "Stand up," she said softly, her 
voice thick, throaty.  He stood, facing her, perhaps two inches taller 
than she, still wearing a tee-shirt and boxer shorts.  She pulled his tee-
shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor.  She walked closer to him 
allowing her firm breasts to press softly against his bare chest, pushing 
her pelvis against his lap, smiling as she felt his erection against her, 
through his shorts.
	"No," she said, as he moved a hand to touch her.  "Don't move 
a muscle unless I say.  Do you understand?" she looked into his eyes 
expectantly.
	"Yes, Mistress," he answered, his voice also thick, his breath 
quick and heavy.
	She smiled.  "Mistress.  I like the sound of that," she said 
smiling, pressing her body against him as he stood, with his hands 
obediently at his sides.  Pamela moved her hands softly over his arms 
and shoulders, down his sides, over his back.  She leaned her face in, 
letting him feel her breath against his neck, her lips on his shoulder 
and neck, not kissing him, just barely brushing against him.
	She pulled her face back, as she continued to caress his body 
with her hands, and she looked into his eyes.  "Slide your hands down 
my back, love, and into my panties.  Hold one hand flat against each of 
my buttocks, and don't move them.  Be perfectly still," she said, 
smiling as he complied.  She continued to press her body against him, 
letting her hair brush lightly against his shoulders and neck and face.  
She breathed on his neck, and brushed her face against it, stirring her 
breasts back and forth just slightly against his chest.  She pulled her 
head back, looking into his eyes, and kissed his cheeks, and his lips, 
lightly, softly.
	She moved her body against him, touching him lightly all over, 
pressing her breasts against him, letting his hands feel her perfect, firm 
buttocks.  She kissed him firmly, warmly on the lips, putting her 
tongue inside his mouth.  She heard his breath quicken, and then stop, 
and she felt him climax against her body in his shorts.  She smiled and 
took a step back from him, leaning in to kiss him again, hotly, wetly 
on the mouth.  "Thank me," she said softly, looking into his eyes, and 
he quickly dropped to his knees, kissing her feet as she stood over him.  
She hadn't even let him penetrate her, hadn't even touched his 
erection, and she knew that it was probably the best orgasm he had 
ever experienced.
	She climbed into bed, leaving him on his knees on the floor.  
She pulled off her panties, and tossed them on the floor next to him.  
As she sat up in bed, she said, "Now it's my turn, love.  You're going 
to get me off again.  Climb on up into bed," she told him, laying on 
her back, resting her head on a pillow.
	She spread her legs apart, motioning for him to lie on top of 
her, in between them facing her, which he did.  She positioned his 
body so that his face was level with her breasts, and she wrapped her 
legs around his middle, pulling his stomach in snug against her crotch, 
locking her ankles behind his back, and resting her heels on his butt.  
She used her hands to position his face so that she could look down 
into it, there between her breasts.  He looked up at her questioningly.  
She began to squeeze his middle between her legs, and he gasped, a 
look of surprise on his face.
	Pamela smiled down at him, running her fingers through his 
hair, squeezing his middle tighter, and then tighter still as he struggled 
to push her legs apart, or to at least prevent her from contracting them 
further.  "I'm going to get off against your tummy," she said, her voice 
throaty, looking into his eyes, stroking his head with her little hand.  
"I'm going to squeeze you all soft and weak like the other men, while 
you gasp and wriggle and struggle between my legs, and I'm going to 
climax against your stomach, once it's nice and tender," she said, 
squeezing her legs together harder as she looked into his eyes, noting 
his fear with arousal and satisfaction.
	Mark struggled with his hands to push himself away from her, 
to spread her legs so that he could get loose.  She smiled as she felt his 
hands all over her body, struggling ineffectually against her, and she 
hugged his face lightly against her breast as she continued to squeeze 
in on him with her powerful, feminine thighs.  Impatient, she quickly 
wore him down, loosening her thighs slightly, and then forcing them 
tight around his waist, rhythmically powering her thighs around his 
waist, forcing his muscles to contract, to weaken, dispensing his breath 
from him.  In only a few minutes, she felt him at that familiar point, 
where his breaths were terribly short, where his stomach muscles were 
close to total collapse.
	She turned his head up, so that she could look down in his face, 
still pressing his face lightly against her breast, feeling his cheek 
against her erect nipple.  He was screaming in pain, and struggling for 
breath.  As he exhaled, she squeezed her thighs in sharply, quickly, 
forcefully, smiling as she felt his breath rush from him, his eyes widen 
in surprise and terror as his stomach muscles gave way, as he felt her 
thighs digging into his body.  She continued to squeeze tighter, looking 
straight into his eyes as he screamed in pain and struggled for breath.  
Her arousal was incredible, as she looked into his face, felt his 
body wriggle weakly, defenselessly between her legs, felt his soft 
stomach squeeze flat within her thighs.
	Pamela moaned as she felt herself near climax, looking into his 
eyes as she powered her legs around him even tighter, causing him to 
scream in pain, quickly bringing him to tears as she climaxed with his 
stomach pulled tight against her crotch.  When she finished coming, 
she loosened her legs slightly, but continued to squeeze his soft middle 
between her thighs, loving the feel of him helpless, crushed, snug 
within her legs, his weak little tears running down her breasts.
	He sobbed against her breast unabashedly as she casually hurt 
him, relaxing on her back, looking up at the ceiling, and then down at 
his face, which rested lightly on her breast.  She closed her eyes and 
squeezed him just a little tighter, smiling as he struggled for breath and 
sobbed against her breast.  She stroked his hair with her feminine little 
hand, positioning his face on her breast, feeling him weep against her 
like a small child.  She drifted off to sleep, loosening her grip on him, 
satisfied, breathing easily, peacefully, feeling the softness of his body 
between her thighs, his tears on her breast, his body shaking as he 
wept quietly against her, knowing that he would be there in the 
morning, in the exact same position, captive between her silky thighs, 
awake, ready to do exactly as she wished, unable to do anything else.