Samantha




Having finished with the phone call that came just as the class had "bowed
out," my wife, Samantha, returned to the dojo to find her star pupil, Carrie
Jenkins practicing the technique that Sam had just introduced.

Pausing at the entrance to the large room, Samantha hooked her thumbs into her
belt, and straightening to her full five-foot eight inches, puffed out her
chest and scolded, "Carrie, if you stroke him one more time, he's going to
blow...and ... honey ... it is bad form to jerk off the teacher's husband ...
no matter what the technique we were actually going over."

Carrie's hand leaped from my penis as if she'd received an electric shock.
Already on her knees - I had been paralyzed and laid out on the floor in the
center of the dojo - she immediately turned away from me and lowered her eyes.

"I ... I am so sorry, Mistress Wallace," the nineteen year old college student
stuttered, "I was practicing the technique ... and my mind must have wandered
... "

As she began to untie her black belt from around her waist, my forty-four year
old wife gave her student a motherly smile. "It's okay sweetie ... stand up,
stand up ... it happens ... but that's a good illustration of what I was
talking about ... concentration with these techniques is paramount."

Carrie kept her eyes on the floor. Near tears, the sandy blonde whispered, "I
know, ma'am ... I ... I just ... it's well ... I haven't touched that many ...
you know ... penises ... and he's so big ... "

Samantha smiled and with a small scold in her voice said, "The technique is
entirely scrotal; your hand shouldn't have been on his penis at all."

Carrie must have caught the smile in Samantha's voice, because when she raised
her eyes, she was smiling. "Well," she chuckled, "I kind of have a date later
... and I guess I was doing a little daydreaming."

Samantha paused. "Alright, then, that's enough for tonight ... but, listen ...
I hope you're not planning to paralyze some poor, unsuspecting boy ... you're
not ready for that type of thing outside the controlled environment of class
... I don't want a call in the middle of the night tonight to come help you
unlock whomever he is ... "

"Don't worry ... it's a first date ... he'll be lucky if I let him feel me up
... over my shirt, of course ... besides, boys who push too hard on the first
date usually get leg scissored and boob smothered ... it's amazing how much
less aggressive they are when they wake up ... "

Samantha smiled wistfully at the pretty young woman who had been her student
since the younger woman was in kindergarten. "Well," smiled Sam, "You're
certainly well-suited for that type of defense."

Carrie, who had already removed her uniform top exposing a no-nonsense white
lyrca sport bra, blushed and unconsciously cupped her massive tits. "Yeah ...
just last week I finally broke down and bought some bigger bras ... double E
... I'm now officially bigger than you."

Now Sam, who had also removed her uniform top (her sport bra was dark blue)
cupped her own breasts. "Sweetie, I'm only a double D ... you've been bigger
than me for a year now ... although," and she glanced over at me and smiled,
"that breast smother thing sounds like a pretty good idea."

Both women chuckled.

"Okay ... go change ... I have some paperwork ... do me a favor and turn off
the main lights on your way out."

The two busty women exchanged quick pecks on both cheeks. Carrie headed out of
the room and Samantha turned to me.

Kneeling down next to me, she stroked my cheek tenderly. "Poor baby," she
cooed. "You're still as big as a house...and helpless as a kitten." She gave
me a sober look. "I'll take care of your poor (and she stroked me hard),
rock-hard (and she stroked me hard again), gigantic (and she bent low and
licked my shaft from its base to the tip of its head) penis in a minute, but
first, we have to talk," she said.

"Good night," Carrie called as she went out the door.

I flashed on the first time Sam had said "we have to talk" to me, at the end
of our fourth date, nearly twenty-three years ago.

We had met for the first time ever in the lobby of the campus library. She had
been sitting on a bench and my casual question about the book she was reading
had turned into a four hour conversation about every subject under the sun ...
which ended only when we were surprised by the night janitor requesting our
exit so that he could lock the library's main doors.

As Sam rose from the bench that night, she reached her hands high above her
head in big yawning stretch. When she was finished, our eyes met and we both
burst out laughing because there was no hiding what I had been looking at.

Cupping her massive tits, she looked me right in the eye and displaying the
sense of self that made me fall in love with her right then and there,
deadpanned, "Do you think my tits look big in this sweater?"

I handed her her coat and said, "I really wish you hadn't done that."

"Why?" She was still smiling because she could tell I was being only half-
serious.

"Well now when I ask you out, you're going to think it's only because that
sweater makes your tits look big."

Our first date ended with kissing.

Our second date ended with topless petting.

Our third date ended with a home run.

Our fourth date ended in total body paralysis.

One of the things that I had thought was really cool about Samantha was that
she was a martial artist. She was already a black belt when I first met her.
Not knowing anything about the martial arts, I figured a black belt is a black
belt.

Sam and I were on her bed. I was completely naked. She was in a bra and
panties. I was flat on my back and she was kneeling to my left, rubbing my
penis.

Suddenly, she placed her fingers in what I could have sworn was a random array
under and around my balls. Exerting pressure with her fingers in what appeared
to be a random sequence, I thought she was just giving me more pleasure. Then,
I realized ... I couldn't move. I could still feel things ... my groin was
still pounding where her hand had now come to rest on my penis ... but I
absolutely could not move.

"Sam?"

She ran the fingers of her right hand through my hair ... the fingers of her
left hand continued to gently flutter over my penis ... and she looked me dead
in the eyes and said, "Sweetie, we have to talk."

An hour later all that Sam had said could be distilled down to:

1. The historic details of the art Sam practices, as well as the explanation
of how she came to be a practitioner, are unimportant;

2. The physical aspects of the art (traditional punching and kicking) vary
from other art forms in terms of only degrees;

3. Her prowess at traditional punching and kicking was not to be trifled with;

4. The paralysis techniques were known of and taught to only the most skilled
practitioners, of whom Sam was the youngest ever to be taught;

5. All of the art's practitioners were (ever) women, of whom there were only
four in the world that had paralysis training;

6. Sam could paralyze her victims systemically (as she had just done to me);
or locally (hard to fight back when only one arm is working), and her victims
remained paralyzed until Sam "unlocked" them;

7. The paralysis techniques included techniques that could cause unrelenting
pain (also systemic or local), unconsciousness, and susceptibility to
suggestion;

8. In every other way, Sam was a normal everyday woman; and, lastly,

9. She had no intention of unlocking me until I agreed to marry her.

We were married the summer after graduation and Sam received permission to
start her school soon after. Sam found Carrie in her eighth year of teaching
and received permission to begin grooming the youngling almost immediately.
(Sam is medically unable to have children; more on why that fact is important
later.)

Fourteen years later and Carrie is at the start of her paralysis technique
training. Sam had asked me very nicely to play the role of Carrie's first
"victim." Interestingly, she was sitting rather primly on top of my face at
the time (having paralyzed me prior to mounting up). I, of course, agreed to
help in any way I could ... and Sam has rewarded me by sucking my cock after
each of the three classes in which I have helped out.

But tonight, we have to talk first.

It turns out that the call Samantha had taken at the end of class was from her
Mistress, Madame Lu. I have never been privy to Sam's relationship to her art,
but I do know that Sam became Madame Lu's prize student only because Madame Lu
had no daughter of her own (and thought that she could not have children) when
it came time for her (Madame Lu) to begin the training of her successor.

For countless generations the art's GrandMistress had trained her own
daughter; traditionally beginning her protégée's training on the child's fifth
birthday.

Madame Lu, however, became pregnant just three months after beginning Sam's
training. Having already begun Sam's training, Madame Lu was ordered by her
mother, Madame Chen, to continue. (Ordering her daughter to finish Samantha's
training was Madame Chen's last act before retiring from her position as
GrandMistress.)

Madame Lu's daughter, whose name is unpronounceable by a western tongue, has
always been called Mimi. Mimi is thirty-eight years old and is ready to start
training her five year old daughter, Mae. As such, it is time for Madame Lu to
pass the title of GrandMistress to her daughter. (Despite Samantha being older
and longer trained, there has never been any question that Mimi would some day
be GrandMistress, and that the line would continue through Mae.)

The call came because Madame Lu wanted to touch base with Sam regarding
logistics, pick-up times, etc. Madame Lu and Mimi are due to arrive tomorrow.
Mimi is making a tour of all of her North American Schools (the art has
thousands of practitioners in hundreds of schools, though currently only four
women (Madame Lu, Mimi, Sam and Carrie) are even aware of the paralysis
techniques.

Sam spoke as she absentmindedly rubbed my penis.

"Tomorrow, when Mimi gets here, the first thing she's going to do is beat me
in front of my students." (I couldn't say anything because in addition to
paralyzing me, Sam had first showed Carrie how to turn off my vocal chords.)
My face, however, which was not paralyzed must have shown some concern.

"It's a ritual," Sam continued, "to show that the GrandMistress' skills far
outstrip even her most senior followers ... Traditionally it was a real fight,
but too many senior balckbelts were getting crippled. Nowadays, I'll be
expected to put up token resistance as Mimi tosses me around, strips me and
renders me unconscious, using a traditional technique, of course ... at the
end, she'll tie me up with my own belt and dump me back in my office ... then
she'll conduct a class for all of my blackbelts ... That's the way it's
supposed to happen ... but tomorrow ... I'm going to fight back."

Sam was now giving me a rather vigorous hand job as she spoke ...

"It's the only time in the history of the art that two woman are capable of
being named GrandMistress ... if I beat Mimi, Madame Lu will have to
reconsider ... it's only fair ... "

By now Sam was lost in her own world ... most of what she was saying was
actually just her thinking out loud ... the only thing that brought her back
was the first jet of my orgasm ... Sam had failed to follow her own advice and
had lost concentration ...

Early the next day, I was introduced to Madame Lu and Mimi in Sam's office.

Sam had paralyzed me and stripped me for the occasion. My wife, as tradition
required, offered me to her Mistress.

Madame Lu, an incredibly well put-together woman for her sixty-seven years,
sucked my cock for about two minutes, before politely complimenting Sam on the
quality of my penis. Sam then offered me to Mimi.

Mimi is perhaps the most beautiful woman that I have ever seen. She is an
absolute porcelain doll ... five foot two, long straight black hair, an
absolutely perfect womanly figure with full C-cup breasts, perfect features
and a sweet and gentle disposition. I figured Sam would eat her for lunch.

Mimi also sucked on my cock, but only for about one minute. In that one
minute, she brought me to orgasm in the first ten seconds and then sucked me
dry for the next fifty or so. It was, however, different than any other orgasm
I have ever had. Mimi's tongue touched me in ways I had never before felt. She
sucked the cum out of me as if she were drawing a soda through a straw. I have
never felt anything like it.

She swallowed every drop and let my cock out of her mouth, inch by inch, until
it plopped down onto my stomach just as hard and ready for attention as when
Sam had initially primed it up for this ritual.

I was left in Sam's office as the three women exited to address the assembled
blackbelts from Sam's school.

It was less than two minutes before I heard Madame Lu's unmistakable command
for the art's two most senior practitioners to begin combat.

Less than two minutes later, the door to Sam's office opened and Mimi entered
with a naked Sam slung over her shoulder. Sam was unconscious and her hands
were bound behind her back with her own belt.

Mimi, who was clearly annoyed, dumped my wife in a heap on to the office
couch. Placing her hands on Sam's throat, she quickly performed the technique
to turn off Sam's vocal chords. Then she reached into Sam's pussy area and
worked her fingers around a little bit both inside and outside of my wife's
vagina.

As Mimi straightened up, Sam's eyes flew open. Her face contorted in pain ...
tears sprang into her eyes, and she began a heart-wrenching silent scream.
Mimi had, of course, paralyzed Sam, and had also used one of the techniques to
cause my wife unrelenting pain. The pain was so intense that it instantly
broke through Sam's comatose state. Apparently, despite the element of
surprise, Sam's plan had failed.

After turning Sam's head to face in my direction, Mimi then turned her
attention to me. Walking around the table on which I was laid out, she
positioned herself so that she could look Sam in the eyes as she placed her
right hand over the top of my balls. Sam was mouthing the words, "no, please,"
over and over and pleading as best she could with her eyes.

In all of our time together, my wife has paralyzed me hundreds of times, but
she has never put me into pain. As such, I was entirely unprepared for what
came next. The pain was everywhere ... every cell of my body cried out ... it
was unrelenting, mind-numbing, indescribable ... Tears were rolling down my
cheeks before Mimi had even removed her hand.

After positioning my head, so that Sam and I were staring into one another's
eyes, Mimi left the room. Shortly, we could hear the sounds of her bowing in
the blackbelts.

As the sounds of the class filtered back to us, Sam and I suffered silently.
Through her tears, Sam repeatedly mouthed the words, "I'm sorry." I tried as
best I could to be brave, and mouth back some words of encouragement, but the
pain was too intense. I was going out of my mind ... and the only thing I
could think of was what might be in store when Mimi finished the class and
returned her attention to us.