BLACK BELT DOMINATRIX

<A beautiful L.A. swinger and her Japanese girl-friend "initiate" an innocent young man

CHAPTER 1: BLIND DATE

When the woman named Cornelia - oh, smilingly enough! - dropped her conversation-stopper, he knew right away it was going to be another wasted evening: " I really feel I ought to warn you: I hold a black belt... " (hastily, he withdrew his arm from her shoulders) "...in Aikido... " To Ronald’s untutored ears it sounded something like " I kid you "... but he did know about black belts all right.

She smiled at his precipitous retreat... and at the mixture of puzzlement and dismay on his face. " You don’t know what that is?... Well, let's say it's a kind of jiu-jitsu... I hope you won't make me use it on you! I’m a lot stronger than I look and anyway Aikido locks rely on skill, not strength! Big and strong as you are, if I got you in one of those, you wouldn't like it at all! " Her tone was almost sententious and he felt a mounting resentment: who did she think she was? " But don't be frightened, " she concluded, (he almost laughed out loud!) " all you have to do is behave yourself! " And with an impish smile, she took another sip of the 1989 Chateau Margaux.

Ronald was despondent: despite her willowy beauty, the damned woman was turning out to be one of those athletic types who weren't interested in sex! The dinner was a washout, and a lot of hard-earned money was down the drain! He should have been warned by the faintly ironic way she'd been calling him " friend " almost from the moment they met... an hour before.

Yet when she had showed up for their blind date (now he was silently cursing the mutual friend who'd arranged it!), Cornelia had looked most promising in a black elasticized body stocking, delicately crafted lace-up ankle-boots and a short anthracite woolly top of the kind dancers call a chauffe-coeur, tied across a firm, flat stomach. She was with a law-firm, she said, but she did have the subtly athletic build of a dancer, with long dark hair flowing freely over full shoulders and, small firm breasts. She could have been over forty, he soon realized, but her body was wonderfully slim and youthful.

It hadn't seemed possible that a woman could dress like that for a first date, even in this trendy cocktail restaurant, unless she positively intended to arouse. He hadn't been able to believe his luck and had blessed his friend!

But now he realized she was just a cock-teaser, she probably got her kicks from exciting guys and then making sure they didn't make a pass... What other interpretation was Ronald to put on her studiedly casual threat? But he wondered if she really did know that " I kid you " stuff, whatever it was...

She was throwing sidewise glances at him now, bemused by his silence. Finally, without looking at him, she spoke. And there was a shade of contemptuous irony in her voice which stung him to the quick.

" Why so quiet, friend. Aren't you enjoying your meal? My duck is absolutely delicious... You have very good taste in restaurants... and in wine. So all is not lost! Eat, drink and be married... " she quipped somewhat lamely he thought... " But aren't you glad you're not! " Her tone had changed: she was trying to reach out and reassure. Against his better judgement, poor Ronald, ugly, frustrated Ronald, cupped his hand around his glass, but couldn't muster the words that would cover up his disappointment.

Suddenly, she turned to him, flashed a dazzling smile and raised her glass. She was an extraordinarily alluring woman and in spite of his mood, his body responded: the tension went out of his face muscles and his sex began to swell again.

" That's better... Now let's drink to an exciting evening... " She dropped her voice: "And that's a promise, friend..."

They touched glasses and the thrill returned. At the same time, he thought: "Men are so gullible!"... He knew he was being manipulated, but how could he mind? He justified his weakness with a reassuring thought: "No man could ever hope to deal with such contradictory signals from such a beauty... Ah women, the Dark Continent indeed!"

He resolved to let matters take their course.

The Chateau-Margaux, of which Ronald drank more than his delightful dinner-partner, restored all his optimism. By the time coffee was served - Cornelia drank it strong despite the lateness of the hour - her earlier warning seemed remote. He allowed himself to stress the punch-line of a stale joke with a tentative hand on a heavenly thigh... and was elated that no attempt, verbal or physical, was made to remove it.

He asked for the check and ordered a taxi.

" So far, so good ", he thought as they left the restaurant.

As he slid onto the back seat next to Cornelia, a long linen cloak now covering her perfect silhouette, the taxi-driver asked; " Where to, chief? "

He hesitated. It was a matter that had not yet been discussed.

Before he could open his mouth, Cornelia suavely gave an address on Wilshire Boulevard. His excitement rose even higher... then suddenly dropped as she turned to him and asked brightly:

" I'm sure you won't mind dropping me off... she asked brightly. " I've got another date this evening... at me place. " He could only make an affirmative noise, furious at the way this woman blew hot and cold.

But her next remark threw him completely.

"If you weren't so nervous about my self-defense skills, I'd invite you up for a drink. Or aren't you afraid of me any more? "

A hollow laugh served to conceal his surprise but he did manage to pick up his cue: of course he wasn't afraid, he'd realized all along that was a joke about the black belt, he even suggested that she had might have been fibbing: he'd heard that lots of women pretend they know self-defense just to cool the ardor of their dates.

She laughed in a way he could not interpret.

But what was this business about a date? Was this woman " kinky "? (Ronald had only a vague notion what this meant. Did she have in mind some kind of threesome? He prayed to God she wasn’t like that, the idea really did frighten him.

As the taxi sped up the boulevard, she turned to him again and asked, oddly:

" Did you ever see an Orson Welles movie called Mister Arkadine? " He confessed he had not and she dropped the matter.

When they drew up in front of one of those huge tower-blocks near La Cienega, Ronald still had doubts about his date's intentions. But she put an end to his agonizing in a perfectly matter-of-fact tone: "If you want to come up, pay the man."

He couldn't get his wallet out fast enough.

As he turned away from the departing cab, he saw Cornelia waiting for him by the open door of the steel-and-glass building. Her long black silhouette against the glow from the lobby was enticing ... and yet faintly threatening, too, he felt fleetingly, but immediately dismissed the faint doubt.

Her penthouse overlooked a huge twinkling swathe of Los Angeles. A police helicopter cruised deafeningly low, searchlight daubing in pursuit of some fleeing housebreaker.

Cornelia put some West Coast jazz on the hi-fi and mixed two whisky sours without bothering to consult him.

Again they touched glasses; this time, her provocatively stockinged body stood invitingly close. As they drank, he mustered his courage and put his free hand around her lithe waist, still wondering vaguely whether she really did know some kind of jiu-jitsu. She gently pushed his glass away with hers and their lips met. He felt an immense relief, as he abandoned himself to his desire.

But now she took a step backward, gently removed his hand from her waist and grasped it with unexpected firmness. Their eyes locked.

"You do find me very attractive, don't you?"

Unable to bear her steady gaze, he closed his eyes and smiled.

" But I hope you're not forgetting what I told you? About the Aikido ". Even as she spoke, he felt the sudden pressure of her thumb on his little finger knuckle and a stab of pain in his wrist. He started to lose his balance... but she released him immediately and grabbed his shoulder to steady him...

" Woah, their friend, I didn't think you'd had that much to drink, " she purred and in his confusion he actually wondered if he hadn't indeed lost his balance all by himself when he closed his eyes... But no, he was sure she'd given his hand some kind of.. She was playing games with him but he was beyond caring...

Cornelia led him gently to the couch where she sat him down and then curled into the far corner of the leather seat with snugly bootied feet drawn up under her perfect thighs away. She sat for a moment quietly sipping her drink and peering at him over the rim of the glass.

" Of course, you find me attractive... But isn't it exciting not to know if I'm going to let you have sex with me? How does it feel being with in her apartment with a sexy woman who can always say no? And make it stick! Just think: with me, no man can ever be accused of date-rape! " And she laughed that chilling laugh of hers.

He was speechless. No woman had ever behaved this way in his admittedly limited experience. And he wasn't sure he found the things she said exciting at all. Why did she keep talking about

"Do you know the story of the frog and the scorpion?" she continued in a sexy, provocative tone which somehow seemed inappropriate to her words. He confessed he did not.

"That's because you haven't seen Mr. Arkadin. A scorpion asks a frog to carry him across the river on his back. But the frog is distrustful. 'I won't do it because you might sting me and I would die,' says the frog. The scorpion scoffs at this objection: "If I sting you, you would sink to the bottom of the river, and I would drown too!' Convinced by the scorpion's impeccable reasoning, the frog takes the dangerous insect on his back and starts to swim across the river." Cornelia paused, stood up languidly and beckoned. At the same time, her body began to sway to the music from the hi-fi; she was inviting him to dance. He rose and gingerly took her in his arms. She pressed close to him and continued her story in a throaty voice that was sexier than ever: "So the frog is carrying the scorpion across the river, but when they've come half way, the scorpion stings the frog!" and she stressed this point in the story with a poke in the back that send a shrill tingle up and down his spine? He jumped. "Ticklish, friend") And the frog with his last gasp cried out to the scorpion: 'Why did you do that? I'm dying and now you will die, too!' And the scorpion replies, as they both are drowning: "I know, I know, I can't help it, it's my nature...'"

They laughed wholeheartedly, in unison at first... But suddenly Cornelia's laughter grew brittle, her body tensed and she sprang without warning into startling, frightening action: as she backed away, her tender clasp became a steel grip, instantly reinforced by the other hand around his wrist. She spun round behind like a ballet dancer and was already in complete control: his trapped wrist was wracked with paralyzing pain and he could do nothing to prevent her from wrapping his arm around his head, actually blindfolding him with his own biceps, at the same time as she drew him inexorably backwards by the wrist into a helpless position, his spine stretched to breaking over her extended knee.

It had all happened so fast he'd had no time to react.

Cornelia seemed to call out to someone, in a language unfamiliar to him. A door opened almost immediately and he heard a woman titter.

Before he could take in this new information, his nemesis spoke again to him:

"You see, I'm something of a scorpion myself and this is my nature: whenever I'm excited by a man - and I do find you exciting, in your way - I like to practice my Aikido on him... See how good I am at it! You didn't know what hit you! I'll bet you're all mixed up inside, right now... Just feel how nice it is to have my belly pressed against your ribs... but you can tell how easy it would be for me to break your back like this!"

Roland tried to kick out, he tried to push her away with his free hand, but he was badly off balance, the pain in his back was agonizing... and he couldn't even see his adversary or what she was doing to him! He felt as helpless as a newborn babe in the woman's diabolical hold, ensured now only by what seemed an effortless one-handed grip on his aching wrist.

"Relax, friend, not even an expert can get out of this... and you might hurt yourself, struggling like that. I won't break your back, don't worry... I'll even make up a little for the fear and the pain..."

She laid her free hand on Ronald's crotch and her fingers probed provocatively.

Again he heard that titter.

In spite of his anger and his shame, Ronald felt himself coming alive again. As she well knew, he was torn between fear and desire as his trousers began to swell.

"It doesn't take much does it, to get a man going," she mused... And then her tone changed: "But you know, friend, this isn't the sort of thing I'm supposed to be doing at this point... It's just you look so pitiful and vulnerable laid out across my knee like this that it kind of gets to me! Normally when an Aikido expert gets a guy in this position, she fixes him, like maybe with a hammerfist to the pubic seam" (she illustrated the blow, lightly enough, but the impact on his lower abdomen was painful enough to make him squeal with fright and surprise), "or else a spear-hand to the throat" (a playful poke to the Adam's apple with stiffened finger-tips made him gag violently) "or how about... yes, how about an elbow strike to the sternum!" She touched this sensitive target delicately with the hard bony tip, but then he felt her body tense and knew she was going to hit him in earnest. There was a split-second pause and then the sharp body-weapon drove like a piston deep under his diaphragm: the breath whooshed out of his lungs and a red veil descended on his brain just as his lithe tormentress suddenly withdrew her knee, dropping her hapless prey heavily on the hardwood floor... where he lost consciousness altogether.

CHAPTER 2: PINT-SIZED WHIRLWIND

It seemed like only a few seconds had elapsed when Ronald regained a semblance of consciousness: he felt sick to the stomach and a corset of pain encased his back, from tailbone to nape of neck. Gradually he took in his surroundings: he could hear sighs, kisses and a rustling of leather cushions. With considerable effort, he turned towards the sounds and saw a sight which even through his numbed consciousness caused an unmistakable shock: two women were making passionate love on the couch where he had been sitting with Cornelia only minutes before.

Soon his wits returned sufficiently for him to realize that one of these women was Cornelia herself, still wearing the black body stocking, but which now gaped open to the crotch. Busily sucking one of her perfect breasts, was a small, remarkably muscular peroxide blonde with short-cropped hair. She wore only a waist-length kimono jacket made of heavy white silk, of which she had discarded the sash. She ceased her oral caresses and lay her cheek against her lover's bosom so that her face appeared in profile and Ronald saw that she was Japanese!

The two lesbians seemed to have been going at it for some time: obviously Cornelia had put him out for longer than he had thought. And he suddenly remembered what she'd done to him, her lightening expertise, her cool, condescending superiority as she held him helpless over her knee... And he felt sick to the stomach again.

With great difficulty he managed to sit up. While evidently enjoying her partner's ministrations Cornelia, he now realized, was looking at him. There was a faint smile playing about her lips. Finally, she spoke... in a tone that was almost kindly:

"Does this excite you? You can watch us, you can touch yourself if you like, we don't mind..."

But by now, Ronald was on his feet. He muttered bitterly: "Thanks, but no thanks... I don't like the games you people play, I'm getting out..."

Cornelia's affable tone seemed to belie the sinister implications of the words that followed: "No you're not, I haven't finished with you yet... I wouldn't want to have to turn Akiko loose on you! She learned her judo in Japan... from the time she was five years old! She knows jiu-jitsu, too! I'm "bi", but Akiko doesn't like men at all and she really plays rough! What I did to you just now was gentle by comparison!... So now just sit down quietly until we've finished... If I'm in the mood, I might even let you fuck me!"

But Ronald was too hurt and too angry to be intimidated. He knew where the door was and he made a dash for it: running hurt his back terribly, but if he could get out into the hall, he reasoned, they wouldn't dare follow him in their present state of undress.

He was soon to discover how mistaken he was.

Even as he reached the door, he heard Cornelia speaking urgently in an unfamiliar language he supposed to be Japanese: his blind date was proving to have more than one unexpected talent, he thought wryly.

The apartment door opened easily enough and he found himself in the long, soft-lit carpeted hallway. At the far end, the steel doors of the elevator shined...

Despite the pain, he began sprinting for all he was worth... but now he heard the pad of bare feet racing after him. He realized that what he was doing was stupid, he would never have time to wait for the car: he had to find the stairs. He glanced frantically about but saw only apartment numbers on the doors. He shot a glance behind him: Akiko had not taken the trouble to belt her kimono jacket, which flew billowed behind her as she ran, revealing her firm little fruit-like breasts and a dark triangle of pubic hair.

Roland lunged desperately for the nearest doorbell, but he was off-balance and in great pain: he missed. His hands scrambled towards the button but now Michiko was upon him. He tried to fend off that compact, hurtling body but was soon to realize it was useless. He had seized her shoulders thinking his superior weight cold force her to the ground but the edges of her hard little hands chopped into his biceps with precision... and both arms went numb.

Fear dispelled his last shreds of pride: he opened his mouth to shout for help, but the little judo expert slipped her hand behind his neck, seized his collar and with the other hand jerked his coat collar across his throat for a vice-like grip that rendered him voiceless. At the same time, she broke his balance with an expert shove and applied some cunning footwork that swept his legs out from under him. They fell together, but the half-naked Tom-boy remained in full control as she lay on top of him preparing he knew not what. His paralyzed arms still wouldn't do his bidding, the choke-hold still kept him from shouting, but he bucked with all his might to throw the young woman off, reminding himself that she couldn't weigh more than 1O0 lbs.! Michiko compressed his Adam's apple and expertly shifted her hand-holds, seemingly ignoring his bucking... but then he became aware that she was also worming her dainty little feet under his buttocks... a strange thing to be doing, he thought... until he realized that she made him lose all contact with the floor and his bucking had seized for lack of purchase! She had his collar in a crossed-wrist grip now and was rolling her knuckles into his neck arteries: there was sudden dizziness, weakness, a sense of falling...

He was only barely conscious when she released the terrible pressure and he was unable to resist as she rolled him over on his stomach. At the same time he could feel her reaching between his legs and wiry fingers closed around his enfeebled wrist. Her other hand slid down the back of his shirt collar: a sharp twist and again he felt that stifling pressure he had come to dread. She stood up and pulled at his wrist from behind: the painful pressure on his crotch forced him to raise his rump and now she easily pulled him to his feet with the double grip. He was on his feet but he wasn't standing: because of the wrist she held trapped between his legs, he found himself in a ridiculous stooping position and although he hoped for some neighbor to appear, he also knew how embarrassed he would be. He tried to pull free with a sudden wrenching motion, but the judo-girl merely let her hand slide over his an inch or so before applying an excruciating thumb-lock which subdued him utterly. For the second time that evening he was the helpless prisoner of a diabolical hold.

The little Japanese - she couldn't have been more than five foot four, he surmised - levered him forward and he could only submit to her rule, shuffling along ridiculously, kept from falling on his face only by her twisting grip on the collar that choked and silenced him so effectively.

Soon they were back inside that damned apartment, which he had been so pleased to discover less than an hour before... The door slammed shut behind him and all hope of outside help had disappeared.

He advanced across the floor, head bowed so low he could not see ahead. With a shove at his collar and a jerk on his captive hand - he squealed as his testicles were brutalized again - the Japanese girl sent him headlong on the carpeting, where he scraped his chin and noise painfully on impact.

She seized his hair and forced his head back while what was probably a knuckle burrowing into his spine. Again he experienced an electrical shock, but one much worse than when Cornelia had playfully poked him in the same spot: it went on and on with a terrible, debilitating effect, the strength drained out of his body until he was completely paralyzed.

"Michiko taught me to locate that pressure-point on the spine, I gave you a little taste of it before, remember?" He found himself looking up at Cornelia, regal and towering above him on the leather sofa, exquisite breasts peeking through the half-zipped body stocking.

"Now you understand that you're in real trouble, don't you? The fact is that I am not a law consultant at all, at least not any more: I'm a professional dominatrix and your friend Steve is one of my slaves. Do you know gay parlance? Do you know what rough trade is "

Ronald was silent: he was damned if he'd give her the satisfaction of responding.

"Careful, friend, the situation is no longer the same" and she added a word in Japanese. Michiko abandoned the nerve-centre in his spine but he had no time to rejoice: a hard little palm was jammed against his jaw, twisting his head at an impossible angle. Ronald screamed: he thought his neck was going to snap...

"Make her stop! Please! Please! I know what it means, yes, I know!"

"Then tell me..."

"It means men who aren't gay but who don't mind taking it up the ass just the same!"

"That's better... A bit vulgar, but accurate..." A word in Japanese and the ominous tension in his neck was eased. "Well, Michiko and I like a bit of rough trade from time to time - especially the unwilling kind! - and Steve and others steer them our way... You can't imagine how boring it gets hurting men to order: just so much pain and no more, only this and never that... How many times I've wanted to hurt the turds more than they like, but of course I can't afford to lose customers... But besides, they never ask for what Michiko and I do best and what we enjoy doing best! So from time to time we have fun with one of my blind dates! You may have fun too, later on... First, it's our turn..."

Ronald was frankly terrified... What were these harpies going to do to him? Never in his life had he felt the helplessness that goes with absolute physical submission to another human being and here he was experiencing it at the hands of two women with skills he never dreamed of encountering in real life, skills that made a mockery of his 180 lbs. of bone and muscle!

Cornelia gave another low order in Japanese.

Michiko released her grip on his jaw altogether and unceremoniously pulled him to his feet by the hair.

His hands being free, he instinctively reached back, trying to ease the fire in his scalp. The wily Japanese had apparently been expecting just this, because he suddenly found both arms trapped behind his head in an exotic vice-like grip that combined the effects of a full Nelson and a strangle-hold: one slender forearm was crushing his Adam's apple while a terrible leverage seemed about to tear his arms from their sockets. He cursed and screamed, but could emit only an obscene gargling sound.

"Tsk, tsk, that sounds like terrible language, friend... I wouldn't have thought you were such a bad loser, really I wouldn't."

Michiko frog-marched him into another room, her knees butting painfully into the back of his legs: once again he was only too aware how useless it was to resist her skills.

The new room was decorated with black velvet wallpaper and dimly lit by concealed spotlights. Standing in the penumbra were bits of bizarre equipment, some of which he recognized from medieval torture scenes in movies. He remembered now Cornelia's proclaiming herself a dominatrix, but Ronald had led a sheltered life as a computer technician and had only the foggiest notion of what that was.

Michiko tripped him deftly and sat on his back as he hit the floor headlong. She released one of his arms and twisted the other into a kind of hammerlock between her calf and thigh, then slid to the floor: Ronald vocal chords were no obstructed: he screamed... and found himself unable to move a muscle. He saw Cornelia coming forward with a length of soft black cord. Michiko took it from her with both hands and he realized that this paralyzing armlock was applied with only one leg.

A loop of cord slip over his head and around his neck...

Cornelia spoke to him: "Michiko is an expert at" (he heard some word ending in ‘jitsu’), " the Japanese art of bondage: you must be very careful not to struggle, the technique she's using on you is designed to choke the prisoner if he makes any attempt to free himself... That can be a little torture in itself, but you'll be all right as long as you keep calm." Her voice was soothing, she was clearly trying to help her prisoner relax. With deft, quick movements, Michiko was winding the cord around his ankles and thighs. Now, disengaging her leg from the trapped arm even as she pulled the cord tight around his thumbs and wrists, she began tying complicated knots in the small of his back, just below the shoulder-blades. When she had finished, she rolled the captive gently on his side, stood up and wagged a finger at him. Her gesture was almost comic: "You no move, you OK... you move, you die."

Ronald lay terrified, hardly daring to breath. These women's various skills were terrifying. How long was this nightmare to last? What were they going to do to him next.

He soon realized that for the moment, at least, they would leave him alone, as again he heard the sounds of their love-making in an adjacent room.

He made a tentative effort to move his hands: perhaps Cornelia had just been trying to intimidate him. But panic rose in his throat as he realized that indeed the slightest effort even to relieve his uncomfortable position drew the thin cord tighter about his neck.

He cried out feebly: "Please! Please! Cornelia, untie me, please!"

But there was no response. He decided to try to follow Cornelia's advice, he sensed that if he panicked, he was done for . He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. Some yoga he had done many years ago was coming back. He was so tired... and he'd had such a lot to drink...

Before he knew it, he had dozed off.

CHAPTER 3: MAN-HATER

He was roused out of a fitful sleep by a faint door-squeak.

He opened his eyes and with a sinking feeling in his stomach, saw Michiko standing a few feet away. She was wearing tiny black ballerina slippers and tight silk pants to match her kimono vest. This was now drawn tightly across her muscular frame and the broad black sash was wrapped about her slender waist. She moved towards him, wearing a typically inscrutable expression. Was she here to release him? He begged to God she was, but he dared not make a sound: did she understand English at all?

She sat beside him with her legs folded under her in and looked down at him, smiling a little. Finally he dared to ask:

"Will you untie me?"

She seemed not to hear... or not to understand.

"Where is Cornelia?"

Michiko's hand darted to his throat and seized his windpipe in a probing steel grip that silenced him utterly.

"Connie, she sleep. She much tired loving," came the whispered response.. Now she slipped her hand under his shirt, seemed to caress his belly for a moment and then... pinched the flesh on his stomach between the navel and the sternum.

His scream was choked back by the pincer at his gorge; he thought he had never experienced such pain in his life, it was like fire burning into his vitals and went on and on for what seemed an eternity. Cornelia's words came back to him: "Michiko doesn't like men at all." Would Cornelia awaken in time to save him from this sadist and her cruel tricks? If merely pinching his belly could cause agony like that, he shuddered to think what other oriental tortures she might have up her sleeve. Michiko withdrew her hands and the pain began to abate. Ronald lay whimpering, his ravaged throat unable to do more than croak.

"You make noise, Michiko hurt you bad again..."

He had learned to take everything she said very seriously, he was starting to fear for his life. If Cornelia didn't come soon, there was no telling what this crazy bitch might do to him... But he didn't dare try calling out to waken his erstwhile blind date, his impression was that Michiko was just waiting for a pretext to bring up the heavy artillery...

If only she would untie him! This helpless vulnerability was hard to bear.

Michiko reached behind his back and he feared the worst, but miraculously she answered his silent prayer! She pulled on the cord here and there and those invincible knots fell away as if by magic. He stretched his limbs gratefully and rubbed his wrists. Could it be that the cruel Japanese had actually taken pity on his plight?

Michiko watched him massaging his limbs back to life. After a few moments, she said in her inimitable pidgin:

"Now you me rassle..."

Ronald was sure he hadn't heard right... "You mean... you mean you want me to wrestle with you! But that's ridiculous!"

Michiko was unperturbed by his opinion. "You big man, me little lady, you rassle me. You win, you go free, me win, me kill you. You make noise, me kill you now, Connie come too late! Anyhow, she not mind..."

He wondered in passing if the terrifying creature was right about that. He wondered if she was just trying to frighten him.

She got down on all fours next to him and seemed to be waiting. Now as it happened, Ronald had done some wrestling in high-school, he had even made the second varsity team as a heavyweight and he knew that Michiko was in the classical position for the resumption of a fall after the referee has called a halt. A few dimly remembered holds came back to him, as well. It was hard to believe that this woman was actually going to kill him if she bested him... But after all she had done to him, it was also hard to imagine that he could defeat her, despite his considerable advantage in height, weight and reach. He sighed, got on all fours next to Michiko, put his left arm around her supple waist - at any other time, the embrace would have seemed voluptuous, Michiko had a beautiful body - and seized her left wrist with his right hand. It was Michiko who counted... in Japanese and sotto voce... but he heard every syllable.

It sounded like: "Chee... Nee... San!"

At "san" he pulled hard on her wrist and was surprised at the ease with which he flipped his opponent over on her back and pinned her shoulders to the carpet with his far superior weight. She smiled up at him almost voluptuously, making no effort to escape. This time, it was he who began to count, unable to believe that it would be as easy as this but unable to anticipate the riposte. He had reached 6 when suddenly it came.

How did she do it? One minute he was pinning her shoulders firmly to the mat, the next minute a ballerina slipper was hugging his neck, a knee was jammed against his chest toppling him inexorably, his wrist was trapped and twisted by two little hands.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on the carpet with one arm held firmly between her gently curved breasts, his elbow locked painfully against her flat belly, the edge of her foot crushing his throat so that his head was pinned to the floor.

"Me one fall!" Michiko announced softly as she released him, sprang to her feet and stood waiting.

He decided his only hope was to catch her by surprise. Pretending to be groggier than he was, he got to his knees... and lunged: his big head rammed her in the belly as his muscular arms went round her legs and she fell on her back.

"Good... good... you try," was Michiko's condescending remark. "I let you win fall two."

Lulled by her "kindness" he released her and stood up... Michiko rose and faced him... They jockeyed for position... Ronald was beginning to imagine he might have a chance after all, but he had to be very careful... He darted a hand towards her, withdrew, backed away... He dared neither run nor shout, he somehow felt that if he stood up to the dangerous little athlete, she might yet spare him.

Machiko finally let him grab her shoulder... and that was his downfall: her arm snaked under and over his, trapping the wrist under her armpit and gripping his elbow in such a way that her thumb seemed almost accidentally to dig into the "funny bone": the pain paralyzed his arm and had him helplessly standing on tip-toes. She sadistically enjoyed his helplessness for a few seconds and the thought crossed his mind that the rules of Greco-Roman wrestling had been discarded! Then she stabbed him unexpectedly under the armpit with stiffened finger-tips: his chest contracted frighteningly, he couldn't breathe for a moment and his heart skipped a beat. That was the moment she chose to throw him: she whirled, stooped and levered him effortlessly over her shoulder. He landed on his back with a terrifying jolt and she was on top of him instantly. She crossed her thumbs as children will to make a bird-shadow on the wall, and dug deep around his trachea, while vice-like fingers clamped a nerve centre at the back of his neck. He immediately began to feel faint. "Jiu-jitsu very powerful, yes? Me win, you die... How you like butterfly hands?"

There was a throbbing pressure in his head, he couldn't breathe, his sight dimmed, and he realised he was dying: "The nightmare ends here," was his last thought before he slid into a black pit that could only be death...

CHAPTER 3: CORNELIA'S EYES

"Ronald, do you hear me?" Someone's face was being slapped.

A not unfamiliar voice was calling from very far away. He really knew he wasn't dead when he began to feel the slaps.

He opened his eyes: Cornelia was bending over him.

"I'm not dead!" was all he could say.

Cornelia smiled: "Michiko has a macabre sense of humor. She would probably get a thrill out of killing a man, but as far as I know she's never done it... yet. But she likes to tell our playmates she's killing them when she puts them out with a sleeper hold, she loves to scare hell out of them but that's all."

"Well, she sure scared me," he croaked.

"Tsk, tsk, poor Ronald," There was still that irony in her voice but at the same time she stroked and the torments so recently inflicted were rapidly growing remote. He peered about the bedroom and was relieved to discover that Michiko was not in sight.

"You've been a very good boy and now you get your reward.," Cornelia undid the belt that held her dramatically flowing blue velvet dressing gown and sat on the bed facing him.

"You may begin with my nipples..."

Ronald instantly forgot his sufferings altogether as the gates of paradise opened at last. He gratefully buried his face in the exposed, perfect bosom, and began by delicately tonguing round the areola. Almost immediately the full nipple came erect.

Cornelia deftly undid the top of his trouser, lowered his underpants and felt his enormous erection as he moved to the other breast.

"Hmmm, this feels good! I love the feel of a nice fat cock when I knowing I can tie its owner in knots!" and she emphasized her point by bending the rigid organ sharply. Ronald went "Ha!" expressing pain and pleasure in the same breath... and wondering why she felt the need to remind him of his humiliation.

"Now you may go down," she whispered. He shifted his position on the bed, put his head between her legs and began running his tongue delicately around the moist lips. Cornelia was giving his member gentle, teasing little squeezes which were calculated to have a maximum effect... He touched the swollen clitoris as gently as he knew how. Cornelia gave a sigh of pleasure.

And then the shameful thing in Ronald's life caught up with him, the thing he always managed to forget about when he went "a-courting": he was premature ejaculator.

He felt submerged with despair, he felt like crying. Cornelia accompanied the orgasm with kindly strokes. She did not seem overly distressed.

"Tsk, tsk, what a shame... Does that happen often?"

He was only briefly tempted to lie: how could he keep the truth from such a woman? A woman from whom it seemed so natural to take orders.

"Almost always..."

"Really! Poor you! Well, perhaps I can do something about that... if you'll trust me... Will you trust me, Ronald?"

It was the first time that she had used his name: he felt a flood of gratitude.

"Oh yes..."

"Then lie back and relax..." She arranged the pillows in a motherly way and carefully adjusted a small bedside lamp so that just the upper half of her face was lit.

She put her hand on his forehead... "Now, I want you to concentrate on relaxing, I want you to feel how the bed supports every part of your body... Now I want you to think about relaxing your left foot, you're to let all the tension go out of your left foot... All the tension's going... Now the right foot..." And she designated thus in turn each of his members. Ronald was beginning to feel heavy and slightly somnolent... As she talked on in an even, monotonous tone, telling him to relax his hands, his arms, his shoulders, he became dimly aware that he was staring fixedly at the beautiful oval of her face standing out against the dark background, that he was increasingly fascinated by her dramatically made-up eyes... "Now the neck, the neck is relaxing too, all the tension is going out of the muscles in the neck, little by little the tension is going until it's all gone, all gone... And the scalp... And the forehead and the jaw and all the muscles in the face... And now you're completely relaxed, you're whole body is limp, think how the bed supports your body all over... Now I want you to listen carefully, Ronald, I am going to count to 20... at 10 your eyelids will close, they are already so heavy you can hardly keep them open but you must keep them open until I reach ten and then you may let them close and when I reach 20 you will go into a deep sleep... Are you ready?"

He heard himself answering "Yes" and it occurred in passing to him that this was what it must be like to be hypnotized, but it was neither frightening nor thrilling, it was merely a fact.

Cornelia laid her fore-fingers on his temples, which both comforted him and made him feel even drowsier: "1, 2, 3, 4," went the throaty, monotonous voice: at "10" his eyes seemed to close of their own accord and the last number he heard was "17."

............................................................

The elevator pinged and the burnished steel door slid open. Ronald stepped inside unthinking, but he was perplexed. "What...?

And then of course he remembered the wonderful evening he'd spent with Cornelia, they'd had terrific sex, she had turned out to be an extraordinarily expert loved and he’d had the feeling she'd enjoyed herself too, and he knew they were supposed to see each other again, but he couldn't quite recall when. Well, maybe she was going to ring him, or he her...

He laughed when he remembered how she'd boasted in the restaurant about knowing some kind of judo. She must have been bluffing... And she was so attractive.

He went whistling down Wilshire, looking out for a cab. It was late but this part of L.A. was not really dangerous, he knew. And anyway, he felt big enough and strong enough to face any danger.

(To be continued if there’s a demand…)