AMAZONIAN MISTRESS

I first met Bonnie two years ago in a health club to
 which we both belonged, and I was immediately struck
 by her strength, beauty and femininity. The only thing
 I could think of was what it would feel like to use
 her. The thought of fucking her silly kept running
 through my mind as we exercised together more and more
 often.

 An inch taller than my own 5'9" and with a powerful,
 muscular, yet shapely body that outweighed my own by
 a good ten pounds, I was fascinated at the way she
 could out lift most of the men at the club and struck
 up a conversation with her.  When she invited me to
 come home with her I accepted eagerly.

 However, I soon discovered what she had in mind for me.
 Quickly changing into sensuous black tights that
 revealed every muscle and curve of her fantastic body,
 she challenged me to a friendly wrestling match.

 Almost drooling at the prospect of physical contact
 with this gorgeous Amazon, I readily agreed, and before
 I realized it she had me downstairs on a wrestling mat
 in her game-room.  We closed, locking hands, and I held
 my own for a moment or two while she tested my
 strength, but after that I never had a chance.  She was
 stronger and faster than I and knew every trick in the
 book.

 She put me through a dozen holds in as many minutes,
 maintaining each hold just long enough to ensure that I
 couldn't escape and then moving into the next one.  She
 finished me off by getting behind me, wrapping her
 powerful arms around my chest, pinning my arms to my
 sides and lifting me completely off the mat in a crush-
 ing bear hug that I thought would cave in my ribs until
 I was completely limp with exhaustion.

 Then she put me across her shoulders and gave me an
 airplane spin that left my mind reeling.  She finally
 ended the contest -- if you could call it that -- by
 gripping my neck and buttocks and heaving me up over
 her head, her arms fully extended, to hold me there,
 seemingly ten feet in the air, my nose inches from the
 ceiling, while I struggled feebly to escape her grip,
 and then tossing me on my back, straddling my chest and
 pinning my shoulders to the mat with her knees.

 After I had regained my breath and some semblance of
 composure, she asked me if I thought I could beat her
 at anything. I told her that I had done some boxing in
 college, but that I would never dream of fighting a
 girl.  She laughed and asked, "What's the matter?
 Afraid I'll clean your clock for you?" and produced two
 pair of boxing gloves.

 I hesitated, but finally decided this girl needed a
 lesson, so I put them on and we squared off. Initially,
 she seemed content to fight defensively;  I used every
 trick I knew, but she was incredibly fast, and her
 bobbing and weaving caused me to miss almost every
 punch I threw. The few that were on target she easily
 slipped or blocked. 

 Finally, in desperation, I threw a roundhouse right,
 but she stepped inside it and, taking the initiative,
 began peppering me with jabs and hooks to my face and
 body that came with blurring speed and sent me reeling
 backward. 

 I tried to cover up and dodge her blows, but she seemed
 to anticipate my every move, and the accuracy of her
 punches was phenomenal.  In the next few seconds she
 hit me thirty or forty times, and, although her punches
 weren't hard, my head was reeling from their cumulative
 effect.

 Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, her onslaught
 stopped, and she stood watching me, a smile decorating
 her lovely face as I swayed back and forth in front of
 her.  "Nighty night, lover," she said softly.  "No more
 lovetaps.  I'm going to put your lights out with one
 punch."

 Alarmed, I started to back away, but her body became a
 blur of motion, and then something slammed into my jaw
 with the force of a sledgehammer, spun me almost com-
 pletely around and tumbled me backward into oblivion.

 When I came to I was lying naked in her bed, and she
 was lying on her side next to me looking down at me and
 running one hand lightly up and down my body.  Seeing
 my eyes open, she chuckled and leaned down to kiss me
 lightly on the tip of my nose.  "Welcome back, baby,"
 she said.  "I was beginning to think you'd never come
 around."

 "How -- how did I get here?" I blurted.

 She laughed.  "Why, I carried you up here, of course.
 After I took your clothes off.  You know, baby, you
 have a very nice, body, just the kind I like to play
 with.  And you made a marvelous armful as I carried you
 up here, so cute and cuddly.  I think I'm going to have
 lots of fun with you."

 I gasped and tried to get up, only to find that both my
 wrists were locked back over my head in the powerful
 grasp of her left hand.  As I continued to struggle I
 felt her other hand slide between my thighs to firmly
 cup my nuts in her palm.  I stopped struggling in a
 hurry.  "What -- what are you going to do with me?" I
 stammered.

 She grinned at my helplessness.  "Can't you guess?  You
 know, beating you up really turned me on in a big way.
 And that soft, sexy little body of yours -- well, it's
 enough to drive a girl wild.  I damn near raped you
 just carrying you up here.  But now that I've got you
 in bed, baby, I'm going to bang you like you've never
 been banged before.  And you're going to love every
 minute of it."

 I gasped in dismay.  That would be the final blow.  Be-
 ing raped by a girl!  The thought sent chills down my
 spine.  "That -- that's impossible!" I croaked.

 She laughed.  "Wanta bet?  I'll bet you your paycheck
 I can do anything I want to with you.  Watch!"

 Still holding my wrists pinned above my head with one
 hand and my crotch firmly in the grip of her other
 hand, she lowered her head to capture my mouth with her
 own in a crushing french kiss that took my breath away.
 
 Then, before I could recover, she was biting and kiss-
 ing my face and neck with a passion that amazed me.  As
 she did so, I felt the hand cupping my crotch start to
 massage and stroke me intimately, tickling the inside
 of my thighs and caressing my testicles while I strug-
 gled helplessly in her grip.

 Then I felt her hand grip my penis firmly, her thumb
 over its tip, as she began to masturbate me.  I gasped
 and redoubled my efforts at resistance, but she quickly
 locked her legs around mine and I was encased in a
 steel vice from which I could not escape as she con-
 tinued to manipulate my body at will.

 I had never believed it possible for a woman to rape a
 man, but Bonnie had me writhing with a throbbing erec-
 tion within a minute, as pangs of sexual desire flooded
 my body.

 I heard myself moaning in mingled shame and passion,
 and as she finally mounted me and took me inside her I
 thought I was going to climax right then and there.

 Somehow, she stopped me.  Something about the way her
 hands held my body, that I haven't figured out to this
 day, brought me back from the brink until she was
 ready, and then I heard her breathe, "Now!" and the
 world exploded in an orgasm that filled my entire
 being, lifting me with her and carrying me on a wave
 of ecstasy to heights I had never known before.

 When it was over, I lay limp and quivering beneath her
 as she grinned down at me.  "I think you just lost this
 week's paycheck, baby," she told me softly.  "And don't
 tell me it wasn't worth it.  From the way you were
 moaning, I'll bet it was the best you've ever had." 

 Despite being red-faced with shame, I had to admit she
 was right, and when I said so she laughed.  "For what
 it's worth, baby, you were pretty good yourself, good
 enough that I think I may take you around a few more
 times before the night is out.  After that, well, we'll
 see how you hold up."

 She was as good as her word.  She held me helpless on
 the bed and raped me again and again, so often I lost
 count.  Even when I thought I had no more to give her,
 somehow she brought me to climax after climax, some-
 times when it seemed that I was only semiconscious,
 controlling my body with her hands and lips in a way I
 would never have thought possible.

 There was no question of my failing her -- she wouldn't
 let me fail her; even when I was moaning and begging
 her to stop, although I swore my body could feel
 nothing else, she would just laugh and force me into
 another, incredible orgasm.

 Finally, after what seemed like hours, she let me up,
 forced me to sign my weekly paycheck over to her as
 payment for the bet she had made me (I didn't recall
 accepting her bet, but with my left arm twisted up be-
 hind my back I really had no choice), helped me to get
 dressed and guided me on unsteady feet to the door.

 As I opened the door she suddenly put her arms around
 my waist and pulled me forward, crushing me against her
 and bending me backward in a french kiss that took my
 breath away.  Then, stooping slightly, she wrapped her
 arms around my hips and straightened, lifting me
 several inches off the floor, and backed me against the
 door, looking up at me with a smile decorating her
 lovely face.  "You were good tonight, baby," she said
 softly. "So I'll pick you up after work next Friday and
 we can spend next weekend having some more fun.
 Wouldn't you like that?"

 I gasped.  "I -- I don't know..." I stammered.

 She chuckled.  "I do.  I'll pick you up next Friday. 
 Bodily, if necessary."  She set me down and, with a pat
 on my backside, sent me on my way.

 That was the beginning.  Every Friday night after that
 she would be waiting for me after work in her conver-
 tible to take me home with her.

 A couple of times I tried to resist, but she simply
 reached out to take my wrist in a bone crushing grip
 and force me into the car.

 At her home, she would strip me naked, change into
 tights and, after making me bet her my paycheck that
 she could do whatever she wanted with me, spend the
 next hour or so doing whatever she wanted with me.

 I tried to reason with her, pointing out that she was
 leaving me nothing but my savings to live on, but she
 simply laughed and told me to let her know when my
 savings were exhausted.

 After a few weeks, when it became apparent that I was
 completely defenseless against her, she stopped going
 through the formality of betting me and would simply
 take my paycheck and whatever else she wanted away from
 me.

 After she had finished with me, and I was lying at her
 feet either unconscious or sobbing and begging for
 mercy, she would pick me up, throw me over her
 shoulder, carry me upstairs to her bedroom and spend
 the rest of the night raping me until I finally fainted
 from sheer exhaustion.

 She would make me spend Saturdays helping her clean her
 apartment, and Saturday nights she would take me out,
 either to dinner or to a movie before taking me to my
 apartment, tossing me into my bed and raping me a
 couple more times for good measure, leaving me Sunday
 to recover from my ordeal.

 To make matters worse, after several weeks she started
 taking me out with her friends, to whom she would brag
 about how easily she could beat me up and rape me at
 will, paying no attention to how embarrassing her
 boasts were to me.

 After a while, her friends made no secret of their
 contempt for me, referring to me as "Bonnie's battered
 boyfriend" or "Bonnie's love toy."

 Then I began to notice that every couple of weeks or
 so she would have added new weightlifting and body
 building equipment to her game-room (purchased with my
 money, undoubtedly!).

 During this same period, subtle changes in her body
 began to become apparent; her chest and shoulders be-
 came broader and deeper, her body harder and her arms
 and legs bigger and more muscular, until my own arms
 and legs seemed like broomsticks by comparison.

 She even gained a couple of inches in height so that,
 now at an even six feet, she towered three inches above
 me which, since she always wore 5" heels when we went
 out together, made me feel like a small child when I
 stood next to her.

 Moreover, as she became bigger and stronger, overpower-
 ing me on the wrestling mat or beating me into submis-
 sion in her new boxing ring became such a quick and
 effortless exercise for her -- and even more painful
 for me -- that she seemed almost bored.

 Finally she discovered that she could arouse herself
 sexually by simply picking me up in her hands and,
 holding me at arms' length, tickling, squeezing, bend-
 ing and twisting my body at will while I screamed and
 thrashed about helplessly in her grip.  In short, she
 had become a complete sadist, and my body had become
 her defenseless toy, to be used or abused at her
 pleasure. 

 Yet, after each of these sessions when she had me in
 bed raping me, she gave me such intense ecstasy that I
 found myself more and more willing to endure the pain
 and humiliation which preceded her lovemaking.

 There was one aspect of our relationship, however, that
 I could not endure.  That was the way she treated me in
 public.  In every way she made it clear to anyone
 watching us that, in addition to towering over me, she
 was the stronger and dominant partner.

 She would always walk ahead of me with long strides,
 forcing me to trot to keep up with her.  She would open
 doors for me and order for me in restaurants.  On the
 dance floor, she would lead, with her right arm firmly
 around my waist bending me backward and molding my body
 to hers as we danced, my eyes about level with her
 throat.

 Worst of all, she thought nothing of fondling me in
 public, squeezing my buttocks or tickling the inside of
 my thighs, or running her hands up and down my body
 sensuously to stimulate an erection.

 Several times when we were standing at a bar and a
 stool vacated next to us, she would reach down, slide
 one hand under my buttocks and lift me effortlessly off
 the floor to place me on the empty stool, much to the
 amusement of the others in the bar and to my embarras-
 sment.  When I would plead with her to be a little more
 discreet, she would laugh and ask me what I thought I
 could do about it, and I could only lapse into helpless
 silence.

 Finally my savings gave out and, when my landlord was
 threatening to evict me, I tearfully pleaded with
 Bonnie to let me keep enough money to at least pay my
 bills.  Instead, she announced that I would move in
 with her and become her housemaid and personal, live-in
 playtoy, and that for the privilege of sharing her
 quarters and giving her my paycheck every week, I would
 be obliged to take care of her home after work.

 She paid off the balance of my rent and other bills,
 sold my few pieces of furniture and moved me in with
 her.  Although I was initially concerned that my body
 could not stand the kind of treatment to which she had
 been subjecting me each week, she obviously had the
 same concern, for on week nights she contented herself
 with lifting, tickling and fondling me, and only
 occasionally making love to me, but always being care-
 ful not to hurt me.  Only on weekends did she give me
 the full treatment.

 Nevertheless, I still found myself rebelling against
 her fondling me in public, and the matter came to a
 head one night, after I had been living with her for
 about six weeks, when she was entertaining her friends
 at her home.

 I was circulating through the crowd serving drinks and
 hors d'oeuvres when I heard one of Bonnie's girl
 friends asking her when she was going to marry me. 

 Bonnie threw back her head and roared with laughter.
 "Marry him!" she exclaimed.  "Why should I marry him?
 I own him!  He's my little toy.  You don't marry a toy;
 you play with it, and when you get bored with it you
 throw it away."  Turning to me, where I was serving
 drinks several feet away, she said, "Isn't that right,
 Baby Buns?"
 
 I put the tray down and went over to her.  "I didn't
 hear that," I said.

 She chuckled, put one arm around my waist and pulled
 me against her.  "I made up a little poem about you,
 Baby Buns. Want to hear it?"

 I flushed.  "Well, I don't know..."

 "Well," she said, "you're going to whether you want to
 or not.  It's called 'My Little Instant Erection'.
 Here's how it goes:

               When I tickle him he laughs.
               When I spank him he cries.
               When I squeeze him he screams.
               When I fondle him he sighs.
               He's my personal playtoy
               With an instant erection;
               A snap of my fingers
               And he's ready for action."

 She slid one hand down under my buttocks and lifted me
 several inches off the floor to plant a kiss on the end
 of my nose. "Isn't that right, Baby Buns?  Tell my
 friend Jeannie what you are to me."

 Beet red, I tried to spin away from her.  "Bonnie,
 please..."  But her hand slid around my hips and forced
 itself between my thighs to firmly encase my crotch and
 again lift me an inch or two off the floor.  And this
 time her voice had an edge to it.  "Tell Jeannie what
 you are to me," she said again.  "And don't make me
 tell you a third time."

 My voice quivering with embarrassment, I said quietly,
 "I'm your playtoy."

 "My LITTLE playtoy. Right?"

 I nodded, looking at the floor.  "Yes. Your little
 playtoy."

 Bonnie chuckled and turned to face her friend.  "See?
 Even he knows what he is.  And he loves every minute of
 it.  Don't you, Baby Buns."

 Red-faced with shame, I nodded humbly.

 Bonnie put her hands on her hips, looking down at me.
 
 "Well," she said quietly, "since you're being so agree-
 able, why don't you get down on your knees and show the
 girls the only way I'll let you kiss me."

 That was too much.  My face burning with embarrassment,
 I whispered, "Bonnie, no.  Please."

 She laughed and, placing one hand on top of my head,
 forced me to my knees in front of her.  She stepped
 forward, straddling my body with her powerful legs, and
 then pulled my head up under her skirt to mash my face
 firmly into her womanhood.  "Open your mouth, Baby
 Buns, and show the girls how you give your mistress
 pleasure."

 I had no choice.  My nose was buried between her legs,
 and I couldn't breathe.  As I opened my mouth, my head
 was mashed up even tighter into her hairy bush as she
 gave a deep sigh and then released me.  "That was
 pretty good, Baby Buns," she chuckled. "Any of you
 girls want to try this with him?  If you get his nose
 up there just right, it's almost as good as the real
 thing!"

 At that point something in my mind snapped.  With a sob
 of frustration and humiliation I spun away from her,
 rose to my feet, whirled completely around and tried to
 backhand her across the face.

 Although caught completely by surprise, she reacted
 instantly, catching my wrist in a bone crushing grip
 and bending me backward across her thighs.

 "Did you see that?" she gasped. "My little toy actually
 tried to hit me!"  With that, she slid one hand down my
 back to grasp my belt firmly and lift me bodily off the
 floor, holding me at arm's length like a sack of
 feathers while I thrashed about helplessly in the grip
 of her single hand. 

 Carrying me to a high chair in the center of the room
 and slamming me face down across her lap with a force
 that took my breath away, she quickly pulled my pants
 and underwear down to expose my bare buttocks.  "Boys
 and girls," she announced to her guests, "you are about
 to witness how a real woman handles a naughty little
 man toy who gets out of line."

 And with that, she proceeded to spank my bare bottom
 with the palm of her hand as though I were a child.

 I don't know what hurt the most, the stinging power of
 her big hand as it descended again and again with
 sledgehammer force against my bare flesh or the
 realization that I, a grown man, was being publicly
 spanked by this beautiful Amazon in front of all our
 friends.

 Regardless, within moments I was screaming and sobbing
 with pain and humiliation as I thrashed helplessly in
 her steel grip, unable to even slow the tempo of her
 blows.

 How long she continued to spank me I don't know; all I
 remember is that toward the end my body was engulfed in
 a swirling cauldron of pain and I was sobbing and beg-
 ging incoherently for her to stop. 

 Finally she did, lifting me off her lap and setting me
 on my feet only to grip my buttocks again with a single
 hand that sent fiery fingers of pain shooting through
 my body and marched me, with my feet barely touching
 the floor, to a corner of the room and stand me there,
 facing the wall with my nose pushed firmly into the
 corner.

 "For the rest of this night, little toy," she told me
 grimly, "you will stand in this corner with that
 blistered rear of yours in plain sight for all the
 girls to see and play with, and you will not take your
 eyes off that wall.  Do you understand?"

 "Y-yes," I sobbed.  "Whatever you--you say."

 And so for the rest of the evening I stood there, fac-
 ing the wall, my nose firmly in the corner, with my
 pants and drawers down around my ankles and my
 blistered rear exposed for all to see and fondle.

 And they did, much to my physical and psychological
 discomfort.  Finally, after several hours, they left,
 and Bonnie came over to the corner to get me.

 Sliding one arm around my waist, she picked me up,
 tucked securely under her arm, and carried me to the
 center of the room, where she stood me on my feet in
 front of her, my eyes barely reaching to her shoulder
 in the six inch heels she was wearing. 

 Cupping my chin in her thumb and forefinger, she tilted
 my head back, forcing me to look up at her.  "Now,
 little toy man," she said grimly, "you're going to
 clean up this mess starting right now.  And when you've
 finished, I'd better be able to eat off the floor or
 you'll get another session across my knee that will
 make the last one feel like love pats.  I'll be waiting
 for you upstairs when you're finished, and I don't want
 to have to wait too long.  So hop to it!"

 As she turned to go, she hesitated.  "And by the way,
 if you ever try to hit me in public again, I'll break
 you in two like the ten cent toy you are.  Any
 questions?"

 N--no," I said, and started cleaning up the mess.  When
 I was finished, I went upstairs, where she made me
 sleep at the foot of her bed, under her heel where, as
 she had said earlier, I belonged.

 For the entire next week, as further punishment for my
 attempted rebellion, she forced me to satisfy her with
 oral sex, permitting me absolutely no sexual pleasure
 or satisfaction whatsoever.

 When she finally did relent and take me to bed with
 her, however, she gave me orgasm after orgasm at
 heights I had never before experienced, even at her
 hands, and by the time she had finished all I wanted
 was to please her and to be taken into her body and
 become a part of her.

 We have lived together ever since.  Contrary to what
 she said that night, she has never tired of me, at
 least not yet. And I am content to be the male love
 toy of my beautiful, Amazonian mistress.