Caught in a Lie
By Muscle Fan



My name is Jason Thomson, JT to my friends. I'm a self-employed information
technologist, in other words, I fix peoples home computers or those of small
businesses. I deal everyday with software and hardware issues. I've been told
by friends and family that I'm cute, handsome and attractive, but my five-foot
six-inch stature seems to be a turn off for most women even though I'm in
great shape and well endowed.

One of my female cousins called me socially awkward, and perhaps I am. I'm in
a business that requires little interaction with the public so I consider
computers to be my friend.

Two months ago as I was exiting a client's brownstone, I was checking my phone
for messages when I nearly ran into a tall, dark skinned, Amazon. I quickly
stepped out of her way and caught my breath as she strode past, seeming not to
notice me.

I could only watch as she casually walked down the street, attracting looks
from both men and women alike. Her narrow waist, broad shoulders and muscular
calves made me stop and stare until she turned a corner and disappeared.

For the next month, I hung around the brownstone hoping to catch a glimpse of
this beauty. As luck would have it, she appeared as she had before, striding
confidently along the avenue, hips gently swaying, her long legs striding in a
short mini skirt that revealed large muscled thighs. I fell into step behind
her leaving ample room so that she wouldn't know she was being followed.

She walked along Park Avenue, across from Central Park and flashed a smile at
the doorman who tipped his hat and uttered something to her before she
disappeared into the building. As I approached the doorman held out his hand
and said, "Who are you going to see?" Not knowing any of the tenants, I said,
"Mrs. Johnson, I'm here to fix her lap top." "Sixteen oh-three," he said. I
hesitated and then turned and hurried inside.

I caught up with my quarry at the elevators and stood waiting, watching her
out of the corner of my eye. As the door slid open and a man stepped out, he
said, "Good afternoon, Mistress." She smiled and said, "Hello, Ray, should I
come by tonight?" "Yes, please, mistress," Ray said as I stepped past the pair
into the waiting elevator and pressed the button for sixteen and then the one
to hold the door open.

'Mistress' stepped into the car and turned to face forward. I nervously let go
of the 'door open' button and asked as casually as I could, "Ah, what floor,
ma'am?" She looked down at me and laughed; a deep throaty laugh. "Penthouse,"
she said. I pressed the button marked 'P' and the doors softly closed.

I looked up as we ascended, the numbered lights above the door indicating the
floor. At the fifth floor the woman reached in front of me and pushed the
'stop' button. My view was obstructed by her large upper arm. She held it in
front of me, her finger poised on the control panel.

"Kiss it, slave," she said softly. I glanced in her direction. "Wh-what?" I
asked. "Kiss my arm, bitch," she said turning toward her head to look at me.
Her eyes were gray, her lips full. Her neck was large and I could make out
large trapezius muscles beneath the neckline of her white satin blouse. She
moved her forearm, curling it and her bicep exploded inches from my face. "Let
me feel your unworthy lips on my mountain of muscle," she said and laughed
that deep throaty laugh.

I'm sure I began to quiver, my eyes drawn to her monstrous bicep and the thick
veins which crisscrossed it. As if reading my mind she said, "Ah, don't be
afraid, Mistress Rachel won't hurt you, not if you obey me. Make love to your
mistress' arm, you unworthy prick." Intimidated, yes; scared, definitely. I
puckered my lips and placed them against her bicep. It felt like warm granite.
I instinctively ran my hand along her arm and closed my eyes.

She laughed once again as she relaxed her arm. "I'm your fantasy, aren't I?"
she asked. I opened my eyes and nodded unable to speak. "I'm Mistress Rachel,"
she said and extended her hand. I took her hand, which engulfed mine, and she
squeezed. I tried not to cry out in her vise like grip. She let go, perhaps
sensing my discomfort.

"What's your name, baby?" she asked. "Ja-Jason, ma'am," I replied. The smile
never left her face as she wrapped her large hand around the back of my neck.
"My name is Mistress Rachel, Ja-Jason," she mocked, "not ma'am, understand?" I
nodded which was hard to do with her firm hand clutching my neck. "Good," she
said releasing me from her grip, "what are you doing in my building?"

"Going, ah, to fix a laptop," I lied. "Uh-huh," she said reaching for the
service panel. She pressed the 'stop' button and the elevator began to rise.
We rode to the sixteenth floor in silence and I thought I'd simply get off and
she'd continue to the penthouse, but that thought was dashed when she got off
with me.

"What apartment?" she asked, placing a hand on each of her hips looking up and
down the corridor. "Ah, well, ah, I lied, I just ah, wanted to see you,
Mistress Rachel," I stammered and involuntarily turned slightly to avoid the
blow I was sure she'd inflict. For a minute we stood there, my eyes downcast
feeling like a scolded child and Mistress Rachel standing with her feet as far
apart as her mini skirt would allow, hands on her hips, a scowl on her face.

"So you just followed me into my building and lied to the doorman?" she asked.
I straightened slightly and nodded. "Pretty ballsy," she said and hesitated,
"Let's see how ballsy, drop your pants." I looked up and down the corridor and
then back to Rachel. "Here, mistress?" I asked. She grabbed my neck and with
one hand lifted me off the ground. She brought my face within an inch of hers
and hissed, "When I tell you to take off your pants, I mean now, do you
understand?" I was having a hard time breathing but I managed to squeak out a
'yes.'

She let go of my neck and I fell to the carpeted foyer. Looking up at her she
looked like a giantess. My gaze traveled to her skirt and I could see she
wasn't wearing panties. "See something you want, bitch?" she asked from above,
and laughed. I got to my knees and then managed to stand.

"Well?" she asked. I had almost forgot what we had been talking about, but
then took my pack off my shoulder, allowing it to fall to the floor, unbuckled
my belt and unsnapped my pants. I now stood in the foyer of the sixteenth
floor with my pants around my ankles, clad only in a polo shirt and boxer
shorts.

"Drop the shorts, baby, show Mistress Rachel your cock," she said. I put a
finger in each side of my boxers and slowly pulled them down my legs. My
semi-erect penis sprang free as I once again looked up and down the corridor
of the apartment building hoping no one would venture outside.

Mistress Rachel took a step back studying me. For a brief second I felt as
though I should cover my manhood, but I knew she would punish me if I did.
Finally she smiled and asked, "Ten inches?" I must have blushed, but she said,
"That's something Mistress Rachel can work with, get dressed." She turned to
the elevator and pressed the 'call' button beside the door. When the door
opened, she stepped in.

I was about to step in following her when she turned and put a hand on each
side of the opening barring my way. "Meet me tomorrow at the Hotel Montclair
at eleven o'clock, don't be late." She let go of the doorframe and the
elevator doors hissed shut. I stood there for minutes starring at the door
when I heard a door shut behind me and footsteps approaching.

"Are you all right, son," and elderly man asked stepping beside me and
pressing the 'call' button. "You look rather pale," he added. I shook my head
and muttered, "Fine thank you, I'm fine."

If you enjoyed this short story, please let me know at covert.1@hotmail.com
and read my other stories on the Muscle Fan bookshelf in Diana the Valkyrie's
library.

Thank you.